jordanstypayhorlikson-blog - Tumblr blog

jordanstypayhorlikson-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Words on Weary Nights

“Night, bubby.”

Harry hears a sleepy mumble from you and that his queue to think that you’d be out as fast as light judging on how your face down to his pillow, arm reached out to drape over his side and it’s really thoughtful of you to put something of yours on top of his as something resembling a cuddle, making up for your fatigue over the day that wasn’t that exhausting to begin with, but it still is — and he loves it.

Sleepovers. He likes them. Loves them when they’re spent with you.

His house is the venue this time and he thinks he outranks you every time you come over for a proper one, because he doesn’t spare a single thing from you that you’d never want anything underneath his roof.

Made you come over as early as breakfast so he could stuff you with the waffles he’s made and it has whatever in them that makes them all delicious and that. Cooked you your favorite meal for lunch as if breakfast wasn’t enough to make you full.

Even gave you cake for dinner and that was it for you, Harry knowing that he’s succeeded once he took sight of your lip in a pout and your eyes all awed.

“Night, lovie.”

He says too to his best friend, and that’s you, and never did he see someone look so precious when they’re fast asleep, and he’s pretty sure that you’ve heard nothing of his bid of good night to you and he doesn’t mind at all.

He adjusts himself so his head’s higher on his pillow and his body so his waist is right underneath your arm, his right hand pressing your back closer so you’d be closer to his chest, and that he’d be sure he’s gonna be a big spoon this night because he had a habit of being one for atleast thirty minutes then wake you up slightly to ask if he could be the little spoon.

Gets some weird stares here and there when he tells them that he cuddles with you, as in sleeping and cuddling at the same time, with his best friend. Gets asked why, yet he always answers why not.

And that’s exactly what his point is; why not sleep and love on someone as precious as you when you have every chance to?

He always gets a bit fed up when he’s replied with something that says you aren’t his special someone to do it with, and it truly is none of their business, but aren’t you that special enough? Special to the point he always says you’re his favorite and that you want to make his heart burst?

“You’re really precious.”

Harry says in a volume above a whisper and he isn’t afraid either to say it because you’re a deep sleeper, and by the looks of your eyelashes not fluttering and your chest steadily rising, he knows he’s good.

“And I hate it that I only have the courage to say the things I want to say to you — when you’re asleep on me.”

It’s true, though. No matter how straightforward he can get, it always ends up with him being passive simply for the fear of rejection and he knows he couldn’t blame himself for that.

Always wanted you for himself, that’s what he’s sure of. Although you’re unknowingly his as he feels, he never really mustered up the will in him to make that know to you, and god does he not want to be too late.

“I think I fell in love with you.”

Harry admits and it feels different; tonight feels different — compared to all the nights he’s done this before because that’s when he only said some sweet nothings and that’s it for him. Say you’re beautiful underneath his breath and go to sleep right after.

“Falling in love with you more by night, I think.”

He thinks too, because he isn’t sure at what time does he fall in love deeper with you because there’s just so many points he could present to justify when but night is the surest answer he could also think of.

Nights were the hardest and most vulnerable for him ever since he came to a conclusion that he looks at you a lot more lovingly and endearingly than a best friend would.

Could practically feel it in his heart.

“Those are the times I can pretend you’re really mine, y’know. Cuddled up to me and on my bed.”

Harry always wanted to feel what it’s like sleeping with you. Not sleeping with you as in proper snogging you, but sleeping at peace and in content with you by his side.

He’s got it all planned-out and everything’s almost into place, just as he’s cuddled up with you at the moment and he has to breathe deeply just to not drown in your perfume because he feels like he’s gonna have his heart implode even before he can finally close his eyes to actually sleep.

You’ve unknowingly always slept on the side he always thought that you’re gonna sleep on; and it’s practically all for you now as he thinks of it.

Never really brought home a girl and let her be placed on your side so he’d be forced to take it on his, and when’s all done and they lay he’d be forced too to lie on your side and that’s what he thinks makes him the guiltiest the most.

Never really wanted to taint what’s already yours — yours that you’ve never known and yours that he’s always thought that would forever belong to you.

“I think the world of you.”

The words are from his heart and not from his hazy mind that’s weary from this day ans he’s exhausted, and the words that slip from his mouth don’t show them at all, and he thinks it’s because this could be one of the only things he’d never get tired of.

“Friend of mine said I shouldn’t make a world out of someone.”

That’s true too, and he didn’t know how their conversation got to that point but the only thing he does remember was that his mind drifted to you, and only to you, and he didn’t know why back then.

But now it’s like he thinks of that as a premonition for what’s going to happen between the two of you because he’s done the exact opposite of that, and he sometimes can’t really believe that he did make a world out of someone who he doesn’t see every single day and atleast rolls their eyes at him atleast once a day too, and hugs him either in the lightest manner or as if he’ll be gone when they didn’t do it.

“But that was too late too, I guess. Already did.”

Harry’s awake, more than awake, and doesn’t feel any hint of sleepiness overcoming him no matter how much his body feels heavy, and it may have been he’s been like these for the past days.

Or because he’s used to sleep so late from the years he’s been like that.

Or simply because you keep him up at night.

“Y’also look very good in m’yellow shirt. Reminding me of sunshine.”

He remembers and he smiled to himself, his hand twirling around the shirt you’re wearing that’s his, and you’ve borrowed it for the reason you forgot to bring your pajamas with you.

So of course he gives a dozen to you yet you only use two of them as you insisted, and he makes the mental note to pack them in your bag so you could take them home after remembering on how good you look in his clothes; no matter how stretched or bright his shirt is on you and no matter how fuzzy his pajamas are from the wash.

The yellow never really does get old on you as you explain, and he doesn’t care if you wear that yellow shirt he’s bought you at winter because it truthfully makes his heart bend and break and he’s doesn’t know if he’s already maxed-out his love for you in that color.

“M’sorry too if I get overly-jealous — sometimes for the wrong reasons.”

Harry apologizes because he doesn’t have this halfed-out pride when you argue to him about this exact situation, and truly that he is a ticking time bomb when he gets jealous as you point out to him.

He gets passive-aggressive with it at first and the way you’re talking to this lad, which isn’t any different from the way you talk to him (so maybe that’s one of the reasons he is jealous) and next thing you know is he has his arms crossed across his chest burning holes at the side of both yours and the guy’s heads, and he’d be a wanker about it when he talks about that in the car ride back to make the rash decision to have you straight to your place instead of his.

He gets all soft about this particular one, and it makes him grip your shirt and tug on it slightly, twisting the fabric as he momentarily buried his head on your neck.

“Just don’t wanna share you.”

His voice cracks and the thought of the actual concept of having someone near or even far from where he stands in your life, or someone competing for your attention against him or someone even exceeding him was too much.

“And you’re not mine.”

This would be the thing he’d think of every single night after coming into light with all his thoughts about you, and he’s all vulnerable in trying to wrap his head around it.

You’re his, but you’re not his his, and he can do something to change that but he’s too scared of something that wouldn’t favor him.

He’s selfish of you but he’s being selfish to himself in a way that he thinks of yet couldn’t explain.

“But I want you to be mine.”

Harry would piss himself if he said this right in front of you while you’re awake and conscious and realizing to his words but he’s glad you’re asleep, and he can’t feel his heart either.

It’s longing but in the same time it’s not, when the thing he yearns for is right underneath in his grasp.

He basks in the silence and he doesn’t know what time it is, tucking some strands of hair at the front of your face to somewhere else as he tries to focus.

“I love you too if that’s what you’re saying.”

A voice gently says and god does it make Harry jolt, not for the surprise right now as his eyes suddenly widen and his hand to be put on top of his chest, and he realizes it’s you.

There’s the flutter of your eyes and you look at him so surely, a little smile on your face and he badly wants to think that this was all his mind and not in real life.

“You — what the fuck? Y-you’re awake?”

He stutters and you have to comb his hand through his hair to remind him that you are, and the way you’re looking at him is just of adoration and something that tells him to calm the fuck down, because there’s no reason for him to panic now.

He’s in shock of course, and he finally brought his surprise down as he gulps and observes you for a while.

You’re beyond sleepy but he knows this isn’t of unconscious actions either, and Harry’s head tilts as he observes you more.

Your head lifts up and the press of your lips is gently put on his, having to close his eyes just to calm himself down and there he feels it — the taste of you and your lips, the sleepiness and the love in them, and on how his heary feels like it’s gonna explode now.

“Gonna tell you on how mornings are the worst for me just like how nights are the worst for you, tomorrow.”

You must’ve heard it all, as he thinks. And he has so many questions and things else to say because the I love you that you’ve said — he felt that. He really did, and there’s no denying it wasn’t of something that a friend says in that way.

“Sleep, lovie.”

His jaw’s kissed gently and there’s a pat on his chest, and he throws his head back as he releases a sigh and slowly nods, turning his figure more so he could take you closer to his chest, and there are no questions asked on his head besides the fact on how did he get so fucking blessed.

Harry doesn’t regret making a world out of you.

467 notes · View notes

jordanstypayhorlikson-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

It’s currently nearing 3am where I live (somewhere in Australia) I’m laying eyes wide open, with so much on my mind, that I need to spill out.

Louis Tomlinson released a song called Just Hold On, dedicated to his beloved mother. When the song was released, it went around like wildfire, everyone got attached too it so quickly - fell in love with they way it sounds ; the deep meaning behind it. So many people found a piece of it resembling them.

I’m what you can say, a recovering suicidal victim. I’m severely depressed to the point where I have attempted to end my life multiple times. I’m not going too go into the big details about all of that - nows not the time. But I’m a bit fucked up in more ways then one; like struggling too make it through another day.

When I first heard the song Just Hold On, I was knocked back a couple of steps from how completely deep and soul wrenching this song really is. Not only did it make me cry - it made me stronger. When I heard the first lines of “Darling, Just Hold On” its when I completely broke down into tears.

This one line is singing about when everything is crumbling around you, falling to pieces, losing the ones you love, it’s telling you to hold on, please. You’re strong, you’re a fighter, you can do this. Just Hold On. And it’s how I was feeling, I was losing grip on reality, my life, friends and family, I was losing my faith. Until this song came along.

I have never related to a song and a specific lyric line before then I have now. I never heard one particular line that I would want tattooed on my body. This tattoo not only represents the masterpiece of a song by Louis Tomlinson, no it’s also represents that I am holding on.

When I feel so down, depressed and hating everything. When I’m in my dark stage of feeling like ending it, I look at my tattoo. I read it, over and over until I feel myself lose the tension and start to calm down. This lyric grounds me.

The style of the tattoo was done in Louis handwriting, I refused too get it done any other way.

It’s placed above my heart, it’s another sign to show me that my heart is still beating, that I’m still here, that my heart is still holding on for me.

This tattoo has become my personal favourite, and Louis Tomlinson’s song has become my ultimate favourite song. I honestly hope Louis song has helped as many people, as it has helped me.

Thank you, Louis.

Sincerely, a fan among millions.

(I put multiple photos to show its real, its mine, and hope no one steals this to try and make it their own.)

138 notes · View notes