I had a very hard realization today. I don't necessarily want Harry Styles because he's, you know, Harry Styles. All I want is a boy that shines the way Harry does. Is that too much to ask? 

Side note: Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

This one is for @roscoelajeep. 

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away.

Two weeks have gone by, two weeks of me spending all my extra time with Aliza. I go to work and rush home the moment I finish, shower, and then make my way to her. Sometimes I manage a short run.

She always has something planned for us to do. Somewhere to go or something to explore, we built a pillow fort yesterday.

It's as easy as breathing when I'm around her, and within a couple of weeks, she's changed my whole life.

I don't know what time it is; I'm as high as Kilimanjaro. I'm lying on the carpet with my feet on the couch. Aliza is sitting next to me; her body is facing my side.

"How are you coping with your gift?" I wonder out loud. "Years of therapy and an unhealthy amount of weed." I playfully shake my head. 

"The piano helps. It soothes me." She explains further. "It soothes me too. I want to ask you something." I'm slightly nervous now.

She gives me her full attention. "The band, we have a gig coming up soon, do you... Would you like to come with me?" I know it's hard for her to go out, especially when there are so many people involved. I feel selfish even to ask her.

"I'd love to come, Harry; I'll smoke a lot of weed; it helps to feel less." She reassures me. "I promise I won't mind if you don't want to," I tell her. 

She smiles at me; her cheeks are puffy from holding in her breath, tinted red too. "I want to; I'm excited to meet the band." She says, and as far as I can see, she's speaking the truth.

"Do you remember when we used to sneak out to sit in the field near home?" She asks. I turn my head to the side, opening my eyes slowly until her face came into view. 

"Yea, we were so innocent. We truly thought we were delinquents." I shake my head at the memory. "That's where the flowers in your hair started." She muses. "Hmm, it's a good memory."

I ask the question that's been heavy on my mind. "Did you get away?" My voice is small; it's like the boy from twelve years ago is asking the question. "No, grew out of the system." She whispers, not making eye contact.

A fist clenches around my heart. Aliza doesn't deserve what happened to her. "I don't understand it at all." She's always been such a positive person; even as children, she was a role model to everyone. "If I could choose, I'd change places with you back then," I tell her seriously, and I mean every word.

"I think, I think if you stayed then maybe... I don't know how to put it. I think the universe knew that you needed stability. Maybe you wouldn't be here if you didn't leave." Her words hit me hard, but it also just proves my earlier statement about how she deserved it more than I did.

"I think you may be right. My parents are, God Aliza, they're saints. They took in a teenager with more issues than Vogue." She snorts at me but replaces it with an enduring smile. "It makes me so happy that you had a good life, Harry." She tells me honestly.

"They still live in England. I have a sister too, Gemma. She's two years older than me, it took about a year for us to get along, but now she's one of my best friends." I can't help but gush about them because none of my friends know I'm adopted.

It's the first time in years I can freely talk about it to someone who knows what it's like to be in a foster home.

 I stop abruptly, feeling stupid for telling her all this. "I'm sorry." I blush. "Don't be sorry; you were there longer than me, Harry. I aged out two years later. I promise I'm not feeling sad about it anymore." She shifts closer to me.

"You're even more beautiful now." I stutter. Her dark straight hair looks like velvet against her pale skin. The weed intensifies my eyesight, and the small freckles on her left cheek look like moon dust.

 I stare at her face a little longer; her full lips are soft and pink. Her big expressive eyes are hooded, with red circles around them but still as impressive as before.

She's tiny, but there's a firmness to her body. She looks like someone who exercises regularly. I yank my eyes from her, feeling creepy for staring so long. 

My eyes move to find hers, but they're closed. Aliza's leaning on her hands and her face is up to the sky. "You've always been the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." She sighs, not moving from her position. "Beautiful, sweet creature," she adds, and I have a megawatt smile on my face.

The time moves along, but we don't. We talk for ages and drink all the tea she has, I stand on her balcony while she plays piano, and I think back to the story I created. She'll always be my Lisa. She plays 'Meet me in the halfway' again, and I smile with closed eyes.

It's hard for me to say goodbye to her. I stand in the doorway for a long time, not ready to leave her just yet. "Come back tomorrow?" She asks me wearily, and I nod. "Of course," I tell her. I leave her then, already excited for the next day.

***

I dream again, but for once, it's a good dream. It's cherished memories of Aliza and me that my mind unlocks from seeing her again. It's different scenarios about how this will all play out between us. I wake up feeling tired, but the anticipation of seeing her again also knots at my stomach.

I sing in the shower and take time to eat breakfast before I'm out the door and on my way to work. 

"Morning, doll." I greet Amy at the counter. She jumps in shock and gives me a skeptical look. "Hi, finally got laid last night?" She asked with a raised eyebrow and a yawn.

I scoff at her. "Can't I be in a good mood?" I ask her. "You can; you just never are." I roll my eyes at her because she's right, so I can't say anything to her. I continue my work around the bakery, emerging myself until Amy pulls on my arm and drags me to lunch.

"Is it drugs?" I cringe but don't say anything. "Too soon, Got it." She has an apologetic look on her face. "Did you get a humidifier for your room?" She's been asking me these questions for almost half an hour. 

I'm sitting at the picnic table out back, sipping on some water as she eats her lunch. I shake my head with a stern look in her direction. "Bitten by a poisonous spider?" She tilts her head.

I gasp. "Don't use that word in front of me; shame on you." I wet my fingers from the bottle and flick her with water. She scolds me while wiping it off but laughs anyway. "Okay fine, I'll wait for the mystery to unravel itself." She settles down and finishes her food in silence.

We get busy after lunch; there's no chance to take a breath between managing the front counter and keeping the bakery going. We are short-staffed after lunch, one of the bakers fell ill, and Augustine isn't here today.

The people keep pouring in. The line is almost out the door.  Amy and I run around until the moment she closes the front door. I let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from my brows. I lean against the counter. "God, what a day." I groan as my back cracks. "Yea, we had a huge rush." She says.

 She walks towards the counter. "It must be flowers." She jokes, and my head snaps up to where her voice is coming from. "What flowers?" I demand, walking to the end of the counter.

"Someone bought us flowers; it must have been while we were at lunch." She shrugs. My eyes go wide, there on the end of the counter is an arrangement of sunflowers. How did I not see them? They are meant for good luck, and the yellow ribbon gives it away instantly.

She bought me flowers... she's fucking perfect... I swallow the emotions, and when I look to my left, Amy is staring at me with a look of caution. "Harry, are you okay?" She asks softly, reaching out to touch my arm. I smile down at her. "I'm perfect. Sunflowers just carry a lot of meaning for me," I tell her honestly.

She nods and puts her cheek against my arm; I unfold my arm and pull her into a hug. It's a rare moment between us where I let her close to me, but she is one of my few friends, and I love having her around. She understands me; she understands to never push for answers.

"Okay, let's get out of this place," I say after a while, and with a clap of my hands, we hurry to clean up and get home. 

She walks with me today, and when I stop at the flower shop, she asks me why I'm curiously looking through the window. I tell her it's my friends and she leaves it at that.

We part ways not long after, and once I'm home, I take a warm shower and make my way over to Aliza's apartment. It feels strange to think I'm living right next to her. I knock once, and the door opens swiftly before my knuckles make contact for a second time.

"You're not coming in today." She says, peeking through the door. "No?" I ask, unsure, and she only nods. The door closes, and before I can wonder too long, it opens again, and she walks out. I get out of the way quickly. "We're going out." She tells me, and I don't think I have a choice anyway.

She walks out, not saying a word, and I follow her. It's like she glides a few inches above the ground. Her jean shorts are tight, and I don't even feel ashamed for checking her out. She's not wearing shoes, and the heels of her feet are cracked.

I winch when her bare feet hit the concrete, but she doesn't seem to care. I walk faster until I'm next to her. "Any hints?" I ask, and she shakes her head. 

"Wanna show you a place." Is all she says. We walk for a long time, and she suddenly cuts into an alley. She walks very fast for such a small person, but my long legs keep up effortlessly.

She walks with a purpose, turning now and then until we're in front of a rusty gate. I look around me, taking in the surroundings. I didn't even know there were properties like this so close to us. "Am I getting shot today?" I ask her. She laughs and pushes the gate open.

"Nope, I know the owner." She says and makes her way up the dirt road. She suddenly picks up speed, and when we break through some trees, there's a field full of sunflowers.

 It takes me back to the field where we used to sneak to. "It's breathtaking," I whisper, afraid to disturb the atmosphere.

"It is, isn't it." She walks into the field, disappearing from my sight. I admire the sunflowers from where I stand; she's showing me something important.

 "It was Fred's." Her voice rings from a distance. I follow the sound, trying to get to her. "It's where he grew all his flowers." She specifies. She's standing in wonder in front of a row of flowers.

I can see tunnels in the distance; it must be where he grew the special ones. 

It's almost comical, seeing her small stature in front of the flower, she's not much bigger. The sun is setting, and it's throwing a golden blanket over her. It's a beautiful sight. "It's mine now, I have to fix the house, but I have to save some money first." She doesn't have to say anything else.

 "I'll help you," I tell her. She turns around with a smile, the rays hit her face, and it looks like she's the one casting the glow. Summer burns in her eyes.

"I'll get a contractor; I'm not in a hurry. I have a pretty cool neighbor." She teases, and I smile down at her. " I can help out; you can pay me in flowers." I reason.

 I already made up my mind. I'm building her a house even if I lose a finger in the process. "You always were good with your hands; remember the birdhouse you built me? " She turns around again.

"Pfft, that thing was shit," I grumbled, feeling a little embarrassed. I kick the dirt with my feet. "Hey, take that back! I still have it; it was perfect." She scolds me. 

I blush, biting my bottom lip. Her barr toes come into view, and I look at her. "Come along, sweet cheeks." She smiles up at me; she doesn't wait too long until she's prancing in a zigzag pattern around the flowers.

Tiny dancer. Her hair whips around her face as her childlike laughter echo's through the air. It's infectious, and I walk in her footsteps. We spend a long time there until it's dark, and she leads us home. She walks to the bathroom when we arrive back at her apartment and washes her feet.

Everything she does is magic; she puts meaning into the smallest things. We walk out to the patio together. "I can't get enough of this." She tells me suddenly, staring at the mountains in the distance. 

I move next to her, leaning my elbows on the rail. "I feel it too," I tell her. Every time she looks at me, I think I'm going to catch on fire. She turns her head to me, blinking slowly.

"It scares me." She says. I hum in agreement. "It's intense." I agree. "How will this end?" She asks insecurely. I sigh deeply, rubbing my hand over my face.

 "There was a boy; he was a skinny little thing. He had dreams of being a long-haired baker, but he never told anyone because boys don't have long hair." I take a deep breath, the fresh air opening my lungs. It still hurts; it's one of those permanent scars.

"He was lonely, isolated, and angry. He met a girl when he was nine; she was walking sunshine. She felt everything so deeply; it was a sight to see. They became inseparable, never left each other's side." I look at her; her eyes are closed in concentration.

"He had to leave her, had to go far away. He became a shell again, walking alone in a grey world until one day when he heard the most beautiful music coming from next door. He finds out it's the girl he once knew. He runs away, and it almost kills him." I blow out my puffed cheeks.

"Somehow, through one of the biggest miracles, he gets another chance. He's happy again, overjoyed by her presence. They've spent some time together, and he can't think of anything else but her." I clear my throat, taking another deep breath.

"He can breathe again because she's here now. She's his tiny dancer; she moves through this world, leaving everything untouched but changed forever. He's going to fall in love with her. They're going to build a simple life together, they'll never be rich, but they'll be happy. It's going to be a love for the books that only they understand."

She has tears in her eyes now, and I'm sure I do too. I'm not going to hide from her; I'm going to be as open as possible.

" That sounds kind of perfect." She breaths, and I crack a smile. "You said that maybe... Maybe you have to leave to be able to grow." She turns her body toward me. " I don't know anything. I just know that if I go... You're the place I wanna end up." I assure her. I can't say what I want to... I don't have the right words.

"The girl you're talking about, she's all in. She can't think of a better life for herself." She tells me. A shiver runs down my spine.

"One for the books Tiny Dancer," I repeat. " We're not rushing; books aren't written in a day. They can take years, and we have all the time on this earth to spend together."

She nods in agreement; she knows. She knows what I mean. She produces a joint from seemingly nowhere and lights it up. She drags the smoke through her lips and passes it onto me. I take my pull, and the smoke travels to my lungs; I keep it hostage for a moment and blow it into the pure night air.

We share it until she throws the bud into a dustbin. "Let's go make some music." She exclaims with wide eyes, and we make our way inside.

I settle onto the floor, lying on the soft rug. She starts playing a quiet tune. "Do you think you have what it takes to make it big?" Her question catches me off guard.

"Well, the others know their way around an instrument; I think maybe we do, but none of us wants it." We've talked about it a lot initially; for now, everyone is happy with how it is.

"We barely ever practice; it's just a hobby." She nods at me and continues the slow rhythm. "I can't wait to hear you sing." She says excitedly. "You used to sing me to sleep every night. Do you remember what you sang to me?" I do. I remember every song I've ever sung to her.

"I do. We cover some of them." She looks a little startled, but her hands never waver. "I used to lay in bed... When you... I used to pretend we were standing on the bridge, and you always told me if I'm anxious." She breaks away from her sentence and takes a deep breath.

"You used to sing to me and tell me I just need to count the headlights on the highway and watch my worries go past me with the cars." She reminisced.

"I remember singing to you when you had anxiety attacks because... it's the only way I could help." I tell her. "I've never touched you, but somehow you make me feel so much." I look up at her, tilting my head to see her eyes once again.

A familiar melody plays through the room. She's not looking at me anymore, but she's biting her lip to keep in the smile. I don't sing along like I know she wants me to. She doesn't stop, though, and with a sigh, I take a breath and wait for the next chorus.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.

I sing softly, almost whispering, afraid to disturb the peace.
Fear was a big thing for both of us back then; you live in fear every moment. Things change quickly and sometimes not for the better.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.
Please don't take my sunshine away.

I use to sing this on the tough days when she couldn't cope any longer, and her body gave way to her emotions. I use to pluck it on an old, beat-up ukulele I found in the storeroom. It soothed her as I sat next to her while she went through the most horrible panic attacks.

"I use to watch you fall apart. It use to break me inside that I couldn't help you." I whisper into the air.

"You were my hero back then. You got me through every time." My face scrunches up as I try to fight the emotions.

"Who got you through when I left. All those years?" I don't want to ask her, afraid of the answer. "Same one that got you through, Harry." She says, there's some sort of conviction in her voice—a hit of bitterness.

My eyes move to her, and she stops playing. She stares at me with tears in her eyes. It hits me hard, out of the left field. "No one." She nods, bowing her head in shame. Cause that's what we do, we think it's our fault. It comes with the territory, I guess. "I'll be here from now on. For whatever reason you need."

"I'll always remember you this way." She murmurs to me. "Carefree and caring freely." She tells me, admiration laced into her voice. I wish I can be like this all the time. "I'm like this because of you." She shakes her head in denial. "You're like this because of you." I don't argue with her.

Mkay Bye!