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chapter forty-eight. tenerife sea.

 tenerife sea

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MY LIPS WRAP AROUND the straw of my vanilla flavoured ice coffee. Saturating with its creamer, spoonfuls of sugar, ice in a plastic cup. It's morning, early morning. Or at least too early in the morning on Saturday for an adolescent that transitions between work and schoolwork practically six days out a week.

Harry's sat right across from me at the coffeehouses table we've decided to meet up at. To discuss the terms of our relationship, civilly, before Harry leaves to Tenerife in the span of a few momentary days. The news is saddening because there's no exact information on his day of return, but I'm no longer -- intentionally -- standing in the way of Harry's future.

So when he's all around Spain as I continue to reside in Manchester, Harry will be accomplishing any internal goals that'll make him well-known. It's a benefit but I am a bit afraid. Lost and afraid that Harry'll become a big success and leave me behind. I'm afraid that his Instagram account will be verified and he'll have the attention and interest from the typical boy and girl.

Thumbs rub against my knuckles pulling me from my trance of pessimism, and concern truthfully. Harry presses an assuring kiss the skin covering my bones. I manage to flash my boyfriend a succinct smile. One that causes Harry to jut his bottom lip out at me. Prominently he coos at my exterior state.

I can't help but reminisce. To the day Zayn told me I didn't deserve Harry as I fired back he didn't deserve Louis. But looking at Harry right now with this unreadable look upon his face, maybe Zayn is accurate. I definitely agree Harry deserves better than the constant on and off switch of our relationship status.

It's almost viewed as this tight rope, me, holding onto Harry so he couldn't possibly move a small step. I weigh him down from everything — his dreams, university, him, and these frequent trips he'll be taking as an upcoming professional model.

"Zayn's right," I muse fondly, softly. "I don't deserve you, Harry."

My words make Harry frown at me. He shuffles in his seat to situate himself. "When'd he say this to you?"

"Over a week ago."

Harry shakes his head stiffly. "Well he's wrong," he tells me reassuringly. "Niall, I'm in love with you and I'm glad it's always been you to love. Falling for you was a no brainer. We're meant to be in love."

Harry reaches across the table for my jaw. His thumb caresses my skin before we meet into an entranced kiss. One that leads us out of the coffeehouse to mine. A kiss that leads to entangled limbs and faint heartbeats. Octaves of noises and whispered 'I love you's,' until the two of us are cuddled into each other for the remainder of the night.

anobrain // narry auWhere stories live. Discover now