Whisper
Warning: Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter.
Pairing: Mike Newton/Harry
Word Count: 252 (only actual Drabble)
Whisper
They whispered about it for months, Harry and I, I mean. Us getting together, as in together, together, came as a huge shock to everyone, especially seeing as Edward Cullen had an interest in him, and really, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm not anything compared to Cullen—in looks, at least. Or money. Or elegance.
Fuck, okay. I just don't compare. No, not even that, I don't even make it onto the fucking same chart as him.
But Harry chose me. Me.
Eat that, Cullen.
But that aside, Harry really wanted to be with me. I thought I had been dreaming when he had come up to me one day (a Tuesday, at exactly two-thirty pm, I'll always remember that date) and asked me out for that Friday. I thought he had been yanking my chain at first, I mean, he was perfect. Gorgeous, Cullen gorgeous, rich, popular (well, I was popular too) and just...him...he was just something else. I never even thought I'd have a chance.
But he asked me out. And I couldn't have been happier. I mean, the guy I had been crushing on asked me out despite the fact that half thee school, Cullen included, had been panting after him. He chose me.
And a year and four months later, I can still hear people whisper behind our backs, but really, I couldn't care less.
I was the luckiest fucker in the world—so who cared what other people thought of it?