I can't read you
                            but
                                     if you want

          the pleasures all mine.

STERLING'S POV:

*Play Bags by Clairo*

    I walk down the stairs and pull out the frozen pancakes just like I had done yesterday. Today I have my hair in a braid down my back, and a flowy tank top this time. Still shorts though. I see my dad sitting at the table, and I'm already not wanting to hear him rant about me going outside again... So I don't say anything, I just make my pancakes.

    "Good morning." He speaks out.

    "Morning." I close the microwave, and sit back, waiting for the pancakes to finish just as I always do. "We're almost out of pancakes." I tell him.

    "Well why don't you make them from scratch like you used to do? You loved making pancakes." He tells me.

    "I'm still making them... I'm just making them.. with a microwave... Same thing." I tell him, and he shakes his head.

    "It's not the same Ster." He laughs, and I shrug.

    "Well it's less of a mess this way." I tell him.

    "I'd gladly clean up the mess if it meant you were doing something you used to love doing." He tells me.

    "I'm still doing something I used to love... Making the treehouse. I don't have time to cook pancakes." I tell him.

    "Did you meet the neighbors yet?" He asks, ignoring my comment about the treehouse, and I nod my head in response.

    "The guy my age? He keeps telling me stupid facts about the most random stuff... He's weird dad." I tell him. My dad turns around to me, and thins his eyes.

    "You... Sterling King are telling me that he's weird... You are telling me this? The kid who used to hold her moms bra over eyes and call herself a fruit fly?"

    "Okay dad, I was a kid, it's not the same thing... He's just odd." I shrug.

    "Well maybe he needs friends." He suggests.

    "He already has friends... That's what it seems like anyway." I shrug, taking my pancakes out.

    "Well it seems like you want some more friends from that tone of voice." He tells me.

    "I don't need friends. I have the treehouse, and the stars." I mumble to myself, starting to cut up my breakfast.

    "The treehouse isn't built, and the stars don't talk back Ster... I love you, I just want you to be happy again." He shrugs his shoulders, and I do the same.

    "The treehouse is built YET, and the stars can't talk back but they can listen.." I speak to myself, and he walks forward. He pulls my head into him, and kisses my forehead, walking past me.

    "Please be careful... I'm going to the office for a bit. Call me if you need me, you know I can be here right away if I have to." He speaks quickly, and I nod my head.

    "Bye Jason." I wave.

    "Sterling." He gives me eyes, and points his fingers at me.

    "Bye dad." I roll my eyes, and take the plate to the sink, washing it off. I hear the door open and close, then lock right behind him. I let Jon out of his crate, and open the back door, watching him run straight into the yard, barking at the birds, or the wind, or whatever the hell dogs bark at. "Jon!!! Inside voice please!" I yell out, walking into the yard.

    "But he's outside." I jump out of my skin at the sound of the voice.

    "Mother fucker." I speak out, and fold myself over so I'm propping myself up on my knee, my other hand pressed to my chest where I swear I can feel my heart beating out of my chest, and hear it too. "What the hell are you doing out here?" I ask him as he walks towards the fence.

    "I told you I'd come see you today... Remember... from our conversation last night?" He asks, and he holds the coffee mug in his hands.. I feel like that's a sight I'll see often.

    "I was hoping you were lying." I tell him truthfully as I stand up again, seeing Jon run right back towards me. I crouch down to him, taking the stick from his mouth. "Hey buddy.." I smile, and pet the top of his head.

    "You said his name was Jon? And he's a black dog... Are you a fan of Game of Thrones?" He asks me, and I turn my head straight to him, furrowing my brows.

    "You creep me out." I shake my head, and throw the stick back out into the yard.

    "I'll take that as a yes." He tells me, smiling.

    "No. I hate Game Of Thrones." I lie to him, hoping he'll take his conversation elsewhere, knowing exactly how bad the anxiety in my chest is right now. It's not even him. It's the aspect of a stranger wanting to speak to me without giving me a reason as to why...

    "Well that's a lie. I like Game Of Thrones too... But I like cats better than dogs... I have a cat. Have you ever had a cat? Or just dogs? Is it a family dog?" He tells me and asks me at the same time, speaking slowly, but keeping the conversation fast paced. It seems like he's trying to overshare dumb things so I can somehow open up to him. Does he know something? Did he hear something about me from someone?

    "Who's your family that lives here? What're their names?" I ask, ignoring his questions, and his mention of a cat.

    "The Bennings... Carson Benning is my cousin." He tells me, and I roll my eyes, my blood running cold, and instantly boiling up at the same time.

    "You can go now." I speak softly, and move to the treehouse.

    "Sterling-"

    "No. I get it, you see the weird neighbor, you want to know what's up with her or whatever... Then you go hangout with your friends and ask them about me and I know damn well they gave you an earful, but none of them know. No one knows, and you don't know either. You and the entire town wants to know why Sterling King is the way she is, well, news flash, you're not going to find out. You can go now." I tell him, and he furrows his brows, takes a sip of his coffee, and sighs, almost as if he's defeated.

    I continue to watch him. I see him staring for a few seconds before he turns around. I turn in response thankful for his prompt leaving. I climb on the ladder, and get on the slats laid on the top of the treehouse which will be a floor soon... I hope.

I breathe out, knowing I still have no idea where to go from where I am right now. I know I need to finish the flooring.. It'll make the rest of the building easier if I had a sturdy ground to walk on up here... I know I need to, but I don't really know how to get the long slats of wood up here, and balance myself while doing so. I hear shuffling, and turn to see the pest of a neighbor back again, but he has a chair in his hands. He sits it up right, and then sits himself down in it, staring right up at me as he brings his coffee mug to his lips from the other side of the fence.

    "Can I help you?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

    "Nope. I can help myself. Can I help you?" He asks, and I laugh inside my head. Well yeah, I need all the help I can get but it's laughable to think I'd ever let him touch this treehouse. This is my treehouse, it's my project... I don't even want my dad to touch it at this point.   

    "Nope." I sigh, knowing he's too persistent and cocky to leave.

    "I'd like to tell you that I know nothing about you Sterling King. Your friends-"

    "They're not my friends." I speak quickly.

    "Okay... Your not friends didn't say anything either... I just see you, sitting in a treehouse, though it's obvious you have no idea how to build one... But everyday you've been out here, trying to figure it out. You've got some type of persistence about you, and I do too. We're similar, and it'd be nice to make my own friends in this town." He tells me.

    "You already have friends." I speak out, pulling some of the tarps off of the back end of the flooring.

    "No. I have my cousin who has friends... I didn't meet any of them on my own. I didn't figure any of them out on my own. Those are forced friendships. Though they're welcome, they're forced. This is not forced..." He motions between the two of us, and I shake my head.

    "Maybe not for you." I mumble.

    "What was that?" He asks.

    "Nothing." I sigh out, and then throw my head back in a groan. "Don't you have plans today?" I ask, and he pulls out his phone.

    "Let me check my calendar, hold on..." He speaks out, and then nods his head. He raises his eyebrows, and gives out an "Ahhh" and then looks back to me. "Looks like I do.." He nods.

    "Thank god." I speak to myself again.

    "Sitting in my backyard all day, talking to Sterling King, is first on the list... and then after that it's nothing." He tells me in the most serious tone, and shrugs. I squint my eyes at him, and stare for a bit. "Sterling... You're just going to have to be okay with me sitting here, even if you don't want to speak... But I'd like to get to know you... If you'd let me." He tells me, and I sigh. He's harmless. I can tell he's harmless, he's just odd... Always spouting random facts, and being so persistent the way he is.

    "If I don't want to answer you I won't... On any question." I tell him.

    "That's fair." He agrees.

    "And if I find out that you went out and told Carson, or Claire, or Hallie... Mason... Any of them... I swear to god I'll... I don't know what I'll do but it won't end well for you." I point the hammer in my hands at him, and he lifts his hands up in surrender.

    "My lips are sealed." He promises with his voice, and though I have no reason not to trust him... I don't yet. I don't trust him, and I don't know if I will. "Are you from here?" He asks, and I sigh.

    "Are we going to start with boring things? That's what you want to know?" I ask, and he shrugs.

    "I just want to know you. All I know is that your name is Sterling King, and you don't do anything but sit in your backyard in a barely built treehouse.... Why do you do that by the way? Sit in the treehouse, and not build it?" He asks.

    "Because I want to... get a feel for the... wood or.. Something like that." I tell him.

    "I was right wasn't I? You don't know how to build a treehouse do you?"

    "You don't know how to build a treehouse do you?" I mimic his words, and his accent, and he laughs to himself.

    "That was a pretty good dialect." He tells me.

    "Dialect?" I ask, and turn to him.

    "Most people say accent but that's an improper use of the word... Accents are just how someone pronounces a word... So people native to New York will have a big city accent, but people from brooklyn have a dialect specific to brooklyn. Dialects are specific to a place... mostly used in theatrical ways or things like that.. When people are mimicking a style of voice."  He spouts more useless knowledge, and I just stare at him. "Sorry..." He shrugs, his shoulders, and instantly closes himself off from the situation.

    "Why are you apologizing?" I ask.

    "Because you don't care." He informs me as if it's true... As if he knows it's true, and I furrow my brows.

    "And who told you that Harry?" I ask, hammering down nails that have already come up.

    "I assumed.. Accumulating the response from most people that don't care."

    "Oh so now I'm grouped in with 'most people' I see how it is." I scoff, and continue on.

    "I didn't say that, I just figured-"

    "For someone who's incredibly smart you figure a lot you know? and you talk a lot..." I tell him.

    "I have social anxiety." He shrugs.

    "So do I... but I don't talk. I shut up." I tell him.

    "Well not everyone experiences it the same. Some people experience it, and they don't talk at all. They close themself off, and panic in their mind. Some people talk too much.. They feel like they have something to prove.. That they need to be liked so they talk a lot." He explains, and I nod my head.

    "I'm a choice A person." I tell him.

    "And I'm choice B."

    "When's your birthday?" I ask, throwing it in the conversation nonchalantly.

    "Why do you want to know?" He asks, and I groan.

    "Can't you just tell me?" I ask, and he smirks to himself.

    "No. Not until you tell me why." He informs me, and I sit, fiddling with my hands, pretending to be busy.

    "Why don't you guess?" I ask. He turns his head up in thought.

    "I haven't really thought about why... Maybe you're a very giving and kind person who loves buying people gifts, and you want to make sure you don't miss my birthday." He suggests, and I smile, and shake my head. "Alright let me think.... Ummm." He continues to think about it, and then he squints his eyes, and looks at me deeply. "Don't tell me you're one of those people who bases their entire life on that zodiac stuff..." He speaks out, and I scoff.

    "Do not insult zodiacs, they're very important, especially to someone like me because... Well it doesn't matter. They're important, and yes that's exactly why. I want to know what your zodiac is so tell me when your birthday is." I insist, and he sits back into his chair.

    "Nope." He shakes his head.

    "Why not?" I ask.

    "Because... I know you probably know everything about whatever sign I am meaning as soon as I tell you there's already going to be judgments based around me from that. I don't want you to base your opinion on me off of a silly star sign... I want you to base it off who I actually am." He tells me, and I sigh.

    "Fine. But I'll figure it out." I tell him.

    "I'm sure you will Sterling..." He laughs, and I shake my head looking back down.

    "I will...." I speak out confidently... We continue to sit, and I know he's not going anywhere so I decide to continue the conversation. "You said you had a cat?" I ask.

    "I do.. Her name is Evie." He tells me.

    "I don't like cats." I inform him.

    "Well you'll like mine." He tells me.

    "Doubt it." I tell him.

    "You don't have much optimism do you?" He asks, and I shake my head.

    "I'm optimistic only about my own ideas..." I tell him, knowing damn well if he cared about zodiacs that he would be able to tell exactly which one I am from that statement alone.

    "Sometimes other people have good ideas." He tells me, and now I'm somewhat questioning my guesses from before about Aquarius and Leo. "By that I mean me... I have great ideas." He points to himself, and I sigh. Nevermind. I wasn't interested in learning anything about this boy when my dad first mentioned him... But now that I've spoken to him it's going to be a mission for me. I need to know what the hell his birthday is, and despite what he says... I know he has plenty of things he's looking to learn about me too.

—————————————————
Song: Bags by Clairo

Would like to clarify something!!

I've never read the story Aerial. I've heard it's wonderful I just don't have much time to read stories right now.

In the last chapter Harry's MOM called him Sunny, which I later found out was also a nickname in Aerial. I wasn't aware of this and it has been removed.

I also spoke with the author and explained the situation. There's no problems and everything is cleared up. I'm not a fan of artistic dishonesty, or copying in anyway. I have had my art, plot lines, and content stolen before and I know the feeling. I would never intentionally do that to anyone else. I apologize to all of you if it seemed that way as well because it was never my intention. I will try to be more conscientious next time though it's complicated bc I haven't read that story or half the stories on Wattpad.

I would like you to remember that in writing fanfiction we all have one muse. One man who has 2 albums out.. ideas blur together sometimes and mesh between two people unintentionally because we're all writing about the same person. My stories have been compared to Aerial before, but in these similarities I have asked my close friend who has read the story and my stories about the similarities.. our plot lines are not even near the same. Our characters are not even near the same.. the stories are completely different in almost every single way from my understanding.

Once again I am sorry. I never meant for that to be a thing.. it was just intended to be something Anne called Harry because Sunny.. Son... idk. I thought it was cute but now I understand it was used in another story. It's been removed and changed and it won't be coming back.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

*Virtual hugs*