you’re 19, believe me you don’t know what you’re going to want in a boy when you’re 26 and believe me you won’t figure it out right now. so stop planning who you’ll end up with, or who you’ll want in seven years because you don’t even know what you will want, to begin with. stop making promises to yourself and your boyfriend. because who the fuck knows who you will like seven years hence. but you know who you like right now. him. so cherish that. make plans, eat ice cream in bed with him, hug him, take walks in gardens, go on dates, go to art galleries. cherish it without making promises. cherish it without promising each other a future. you’re just 19. you don’t know who he will want and you dont know who you’ll want in seven years.
my mom always told me sweetheart you can’t ever expect other people to love you as deeply as you love them. i should have listened to her. i am not saying you don’t love me but maybe you don’t love me as much as i love you. its no competition. love isn’t a competition. but i took your word for when you said you loved me. i took it by heart. i just didn’t know you didn’t love me enough to save me before you saved yourself. you just didn’t love me enough to save me from myself. you didn’t love me as much as I loved you but then again love is not a competition. if that were the case why’d you say i love you more every night before sleeping when you didn’t.
Harry Potter and His Complete Lack of Shower Etiquette.
Harry tossed his uniform over the back of the sofa as he flicked open the top few buttons of his shirt and entered the kitchen to get himself a long drink of water. He was hungry; Draco had already ordered Chinese. The take-out containers sat on the table, neatly arranged in the centre under a Stasis, with two plates, forks and the paper-wrapped chopsticks laid out ready.
But it was a sudden craving for something cold and sweet that hit him and after pointlessly digging around in the freezer for a few seconds, he gave up and went looking for his boyfriend. He could hear the shower running now, as he walked further into the flat and the muffled humming that seemed strangely magnified as it echoed off the wet tiles.
The bathroom door was ajar and Harry elbowed his way in. Draco was a long, blurred form in the tub behind the curtain, his hands in his hair as he lathered. He hummed the chorus of the song for a fifth time - he was pants at memorising the rest of the lyrics.
Snorting softly, Harry curled his fingers around a fistful of the damp curtain and pushed it aside with a careless, “Hey, are we out of–”
But his question was drowned out at Draco’s vague humming morphed into a severely high-pitched shriek as he turned around to face Harry, both hands flying down between his legs to cover his bits. Sweet smelling suds of shampoo ran down the sides of his face and his hair was sticking up in wet bunches. The shower was still running, pouring onto his shoulder and back, the steam rising around him like a cloud. His eyes were huge and round with shock and his mouth was open in a scream that went on and on.
He was frankly completely adorable.
“Stop screaming.” Harry rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Draco, it’s just me. Are we out of ice cream? I saw a tub in there last week–”
“GET OUT!” Draco shrieked, lifting one hand to violently point a soapy finger towards the door, spattering Harry with streaks of apple scented water. “YOU ILL-MANNERED WRETCH! GET OUT!”
“Oh my god, I fucked you in here only this morning!” Harry reminded him incredulously. “I’ve seen you naked literally every single fucking day for over three yea–”
“HARRY, I WILL STAB YOU IN THE FUCKING EYE!” Draco bellowed, eyes bulging manically, hands curled into fists. “I HATE YOU! GET OUT! GET OUT!–”
“Fine!” Harry was already backing away. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath as he exited the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind himself so that the continued screams of have you no sense of propriety whatsoever and how is it that I’ve ended up with a shamelessly indecent, completely uncouth piece of shit like you faded away to muffled screaming coupled with the steady gush of the shower.
I love those ‘character’s instagram’ posts, because they’re always so pretty and artsy, but when it comes to OMGCP characters you know Chowder’s would just be blurry pictures of Sharks games or just pictures of normal sharks with facts, Nursey’s would be “look at this cool leaf I found”, Dex and Jack wouldn’t have one, Ransom and Holster’s would just be pictures of each other/their teammates asses with detailed analyses. Like these boys are fucking messes.
You convince yourself that your better off without him but you know that the moment he texts you late one night saying he’s sorry, you’ll be crawling straight back to give him the pieces off your heart he left behind the first time he broke it.