It’s just that sometimes he looks at Harry and he feels like Harry’s so much more than a boy. Like he goes on forever and ever. It’s just that sometimes he wants to take every stupid love song he’s ever heard and rewrite them all so that they’re all about curly-haired boys that smell like grass and then sing them until his lungs give out. It’s just that sometimes when he wakes up in the morning with Harry’s arm around his waist and Harry’s nose buried in the nape of his neck he thinks he’s closer to the person he wants to be. It’s just that he’s delirious and happy and it’s four in the morning and sometimes it feels like Harry’s the best thing in the entire fucking universe.
These Inconvenient Fireworks