“Can’t Get Me” Aka Harry Is The CUTEST Indianapolis 7/31/15

(love wins)  12 Sept 2015

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pro harry wearing pink blog 💕

favorite THROAM scenes in no particular order → a kingdom by the sea (book ii, chapter 6)

Mike returns after a few minutes, and I hold my breath for some news. But – Mike doesn’t look reassured. He looks paler coming out than going in. He eyes us, clearly feeling uncomfortable, and worry tightens in my guts again. “Bren’s fine,” he rushes out because clearly that look of concern on his face is visible to us all. “He’s fine, uh. He’s pretty out of it from the fever, it’s hard to make sense of what he says. He, uh. Does, however…” He looks at Dallon. Then he looks at me, and I don’t know why. Then he hangs his head and sighs. “Bren’s asking for you.” He looks towards the door like he wants to avoid eye contact with everyone. “Bren’s asking for Ryan.” I stare. Can’t process the words. And then I do. […] In the next second, I’m already in the bedroom. A lamp on the bedside table is on, being the only source of light in the dark. The curtains have been drawn, Brendon’s suitcase is in the corner, and he, god, he’s under the covers. And then I’m there, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking him in fervently – which is ironic, considering. His eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. His breaths are shallow and irregular, his chapped lips parted. He was pale before, but now he’s flushed and sweaty. His cheeks are red, but it’s not a healthy shade, it distinctively looks like he’s burning up. It’s hard to tell if the wet hair stuck to his forehead is the result of the show or the fever. The worry remains even at his side, feeling unbearable, and my hands hover, not daring to touch. He’s been stripped of his stage clothes that I spot in a messy pile on a chair. He’s left in a grey undershirt that he uses as a pyjama top on the bus, and a bare ankle sticks out from under the duvet, his white jeans also having been removed. I pull the covers over his foot so that he doesn’t get cold. This stirs him slightly, and I whisper, “Hey.” His eyes flutter open. My stomach drops. He looks at me for a few seconds before recognition seems to kick in. “Hey,” he breathes out, sounding relieved. He breaks into a smile, and I almost laugh from how relieved I feel, how desperate. God, hey. Fuck. His eyes close again. Tired. His hand reaches out, and I clutch it instantly, feel the way his skin emits heat. I bring our hands to my mouth, kiss his knuckles softly. Close my eyes. Breathe. Feel him alive. Feel the way his hand grips mine – weakly, but it still does. Reassure myself. He’ll be okay. “You’re so fucking stubborn,” I tell him, and he laughs weakly like he’s amused. I join him even though my laugh is slightly pained. “God, what am I gonna do with you?”

White. 

Petals float on it, a patchwork blanket. 

Cherry Blossom. 

Schofield is swept through the white petals. Schofield raises an arm from the water and sees the petals clinging to him.

Blake.

1917 (2019) dir. Sam Mendes

excuse me if this makes very little sense as i have been drinking and it is almost eleven pm on a wednesday but today i walked into my favourite cafe and the frenchman who makes my coffee, didier, told me about how he had just discovered that the woman who had left as I came in happened to live on the same street as his brother, “isn’t the world remarkable?” he said to me. I laughed, “don’t you wonder about how many people you meet on a daily basis that you have something in common with without realising?”

Tonight I had beers with a couple of guys, they were old friends. “How long have you known each other?” I asked. They laughed, “guess!” Turns our they shared a wetnurse, a connection their mothers didn’t discover until they became friends years later.

As I walked to the train I texted my housemate to ask where she was, if she wanted to meet up before we headed home. Suddenly I heard my name called as she ran across the station towards me. “Oh how strange, I just messaged you!”

Sometimes the world feels very large and our differences seem unbridgeable. Other days we run into one another over and over again, and I am glad to recognise friends.

it eats me alive.