"Honestly, if you weren't here, I would strip out of this fucking annoying dress!"

"Please, don't let me stop you. I really don't mind at all."

I huffed, trying so desperately not to laugh but failing, of course, like I had been for the last hour or so.

The way up the crusty old stairs to the roof was a nightmare with this huge lower part of me, although the view was absolutely worth it. But now everytime I try to sit I look like an inflated balloon and Harry keeps laughing about how I take triple the size he does.

"Shut up," I finally accept my fate of looking like an inflated balloon and surrender to the breathtaking view.

To our grateful pleasure, a sunset pierced the sky and it bleeds beautifully, fire painted along the skyline. Hues of purples and pinks and blues and oranges at the sunset's tail. I stare in awe at the sight and I almost start crying again, but Harry's soft voice makes me turn to look at him instead.

"Can I say something really weird and slightly sexual?"

I blink a couple of times. "Erm..."

"I want to smear this sunset all over your skin."

I cling to each word that falls from his lips like a spider to a web, cheeks blazing, staring at his own flushed ones and the piercing green of his eyes. And suddenly this stranger I met an hour ago while awfully crying my heart out is more beautiful than the sun.

I don't know what to say, I don't even know if I should reply. My tongue has tied itself into knots and I'm struggling to beg my brain to work my respiratory system.

Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His over-whelming good looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he'd stop doing that.

Harry finally sighs and looks back out on the setting sun and I eventually follow soon, gulping down my nerves.

"What happened back there?" He shook his head, still not looking at me. "How.. Why were you crying at Prom?"

"Well," I took a deep breath and shrugged, "The dress was clearly a disastrous choice."

Harry laughs, shaking his head. I smile.

"So yeah, that's one. Erm," I chuckled when he gave me a look. "No, seriously! It was a bad choice and maybe, maybe that's why Caleb ditched me for The Hot Three."

Harry's grin faded and he frowned. "Don't tell me Caleb is your-"

"Date, yes."

"-and The Hot Three are-"

"Three hot Sophomores-"

"Holy shit."

"Yeah,"

"That's such a dick move, why-"

"Because the only reason he asked me to prom was because my friends told him I had a crush on him, so, and I quote, 'he thought he'd give it a shot.'"

"Fuck him." Harry spit in venom.

"Yeah- wait, no, ew."

We laugh, the two different sounds syncing together in rhythm and it's ironic, really.

I am sitting here, staring at the dimming sky and drunk with unexplained carelessness. Laughing like a maniac while feeling like I'm crying an ocean. Somewhere it feels like someone is caressing my heart and telling me it's okay and that it doesn't matter. While they are continuously pushing a knife, deep into my chest.

Sometimes you don't know how sad you are until you start crying or laughing at yourself.

But then I look at the guy who made feel this way and he's standing there laughing and I just know the flowers are blooming for him, because of him. We were laughing and I was flying, but my feet were on the ground.

"I just.." I exhale and narrow my eyes at him, his soft skin glittered with sunlight, his sharp jaw and his captivating features. "I look at you and I feel like you're a stranger I'm, like, supposed to know."

Harry raises his eyebrows. "We've been over this. I'm Harry, you're Aurora," He shrugged as I watched how his lips shaped around to form my name spilling from his lips. "We're not strangers."

"Right," I roll my eyes and look away, body warm all over. I can see Harry watch me before his lips parted and I had to look at him.

"Sometimes I imagine being the stranger you tell all your secrets to," he says quietly, slowly.

"There isn't really much to know about me," I chuckle nervously.

"No, like, tell me why you feel like a stranger in your own skin, why you're afraid to live for yourself, why you move like a ghost in a shell..." Harry smiles when I give him a funny look. "It's a song I wrote a while back. It's called Strangers For Life. This just reminded me of it."

"Oh," I grinned excitedly. "You write songs, too?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I used to write poems but when I made the band, they morphed into songs, you know?"

I nodded. "What's your favorite?"

"Song?" He asked and I nodded. "My favorite song is... probably Lethal Petals."

"Sing it," I say mindlessly and Harry raises his eyebrows at me, nervous chuckle thundering his chest.

"What? No."

"Why not?" I pouted. "Sing for me, come on."

"I can't just sing when asked to, I have to be in my element." Harry reasoned then gave me a suspicious glare. "And don't try to change the subject!"

"What?" I drop my jaw, playfully offended. "That's just disrespectful."

"Oh, yeah?" He chuckled then positioned himself so that he's facing my side, not the edge of the rooftop. "Tell me something crazy."

"This has turned into a melodramatic scene from some movie," I cock an eyebrow at him but he's stoic and determined and I sigh for the hundredth time tonight. "I have nothing to share, honestly!"

"Such lies," he shakes his head. "But okay, I'll start. I once stood on a rooftop just like this one and genuinely believed I could fly, but I plummeted to the ground and broke my leg."

"Oh, my God," I gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I actually still have a large scar across my leg but let's not show that."

I try to join in his laughter but I smirk at him. "Do you tell that story to all the girls?"

"Dammit, I'm exposed," he pulls a pissed face.

"How many sunsets have you watched on a school rooftop?"

Harry raises his brows.

"How many prom parties have you performed at?"

"A lot-"

"How many girls have you fooled into coming up to a rooftop with you then to bed?"

Harry smirked widely. "Are you suggesting-"

"Nope, I asked first. Come on." I cocked my head as if to tell him I'm listening.

"Well, you have uncovered me, I'll give you that."

My face falls, but I try to contain myself.

"I have talked with many girls at prom parties before, but never ones with mascara streaming down their faces and a sparkle in their eyes."

His smirk was all I needed to smack him playfully on his warm, hard chest, making him roar in laughter, me shaking my head as I try to fix the dead mascara on my face.

"I told you I looked awful," I wiped harshly at my cheeks. "And stop using your lyrics on me!"

"No, I'm sorry! Sorry, alright? Just playin', love." His grin was so wide, dimples implanted like two lanterns lighting the way in the darkness.

"Is it gone yet?" I ask him, wiping under my eyes again.

Harry chuckles. "Here."

A thumb travels from the tip of his tongue to under my eyes. One of his hands holding my head just above my neck, the other on my cheek with his thumb trying to work its magic. A crease is formed between his brows in concentration, lip poked out from the corner of his mouth. He switches hands so he gets to the other eyes and his gaze brushes over mine and maybe he notices how close our proximity has gotten because he freezes for a second or two before he continues, but his moves are slower now, more cautious. He's glancing at my eyes every three seconds and I can't help but stare at the flecks of blue and yellow inside his greens, the darker ring that surrounds his dilating pupils.

Our breath mingles between us as his thumb gradually comes to a stop. Our eyes blend into each other's and the world stops for a moment. Inside his eyes there are flowers blooming, rain flooding, thunder crashing, lightning clapping. All kinds of emotions stir into a single human being and it takes my breath away-literally.

Instead of wiping under my eyes, Harry's thumb is caressing my high cheekbone and I visibly have the chills. The darkness has surrounded us and we're engulfed in this precious bubble where I'm assuming strangers usually are all the time. (Note sarcasm please.)

Just as his eyes flicker to my dry, parted lips, Arctic Monkeys' Arabella springs between us and the magnetism of a spell is broken. Harry's hands leave my skin quickly, cursing and mumbling under his breath as he fetches his phone. I turn away and place my hands on my cheeks as if he had burnt me.

"Yes," he grumpily answers the phone. "Be right there. 'Mkay."

I look at him with flaming cheeks, struggling to stand up. Harry swifty pushes himself off the floor himself before offering me a hand. I take it with a grateful smile.

"That was Elijah, our drumer. I gotta get back, we're about to- hey, careful-" Harry catches my waist as I fall on him. I heave painfully.

"That's it," I shake my head eagerly. "I gotta get rid of this dress, I have to."

He laughs heartily at my expense. "I can fix you up with something."

"What? What am I going to wear, a drum kit?"

Harry rolls his eyes with a grin and ignores my sass. "We gotta be quick, though, or I'm for the dead. C'mon."