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I have a love-hate relationship with two things in my life. The term "best friends", and Harry Styles. Hear me out, I love my best friends. Niall, Liam, Zayn, they're my family. Without them, I'm nothing. Without them, there would be no Louis Tomlinson. But I hate being only best friends with one person, and that one person, is Harry Styles.Harry. I could only proudly call him my best friend. He has been my best friend since he was born. I was two years old, a grumpy, stupid, crying toddler who only knew how to scream, and throw shit. But this insane toddler, calmed down, and suddenly matured when the best friend of his mother gave birth to another soon-to-be crazy child. Ever since Harry was born, as if a guardian angel sent to protect me and keep me sane, I became the best version of me whenever he was around. Just his presence alone, was enough to make me want to become a better person. It has been that way ever since he wandered into my life, when I has calmed down, caressed his baby face with my tint hands, and smiled at the newly born child peacefully sleeping in his crib. I hated the fact that Harry saw me as his best friend. Only as his best friend. I was selfish, I wanted more. I wanted to call him mine, as a boyfriend, a lover, anything more than just a best friend. In his eyes, I was nothing more than someone who had been in his life ever since, nothing more than a "dearest brother". I hate Harry for that, hated the fact that I love him. Harry, the ever so perfect guardian angel Harry, with his pretty face and emerald green eyes that sparkled and his gentle, sweet and loving personality, of course had a boyfriend. He had a boyfriend so lovely, treating Harry so well, that I couldn't bring myself to hate him. As a best friend, I wanted the best for Harry, and Nicholas Grimshaw was perhaps the best person for Harry. The man was wonderful, really, perfect even. He was so in love that even I could tell that he genuinely loved Harry. As a best friend, I could not be happier than I am, for Harry. But as a secret admirer of him for more than five years, I hated it. I hated that Harry was taken by a wonderful man who, despite knowing about my more-than-a-silly-crush crush on Harry, still allowed me to stick around because he knew it'd hurt Harry and I. I felt ashamed staying around and not shipping myself to another continent, but Nick had convinced me to "only do it if that's what you really want". Funny how it was my supposed enemy who succeeded in convincing me to stay, such irony. I hated how deep down, I thought that I could be the better boyfriend for Harry. It was a selfish thought that I would like for it to be gone, but nonetheless a genuine one. Deep down, I believed that I was the person who Harry deserved, and not just some wonderful perfect guy who could treat him well. Nick loves him, he does, but nobody could ever love Harry more than I loved him. As a best friend, I love Harry. As his secret admirer (whom he calls creepy whenever he talks about "that guy" with me, and breaks my heart whenever he does so) who anonymously senes him flowers and homemade cookies, I also love him romantically, and in every other way possible. I have loved him since he was born, I have loved him since I realised I was gay as fuck, and I will continue love him till my very last breath. I am no hero, I am no selfless person. All I am, is a fool who is foolishly, hopelessly in love with Harry Styles. But since we're at it, I was so in love I would gladly sacrifice my happiness so that he can be happy. If Nick was the one for him, not me, then I will love him as the perfect supportive best friend I am. I will stay by his side as the best friend he has known for eighteen years, as the best friend who would do anything with him, anything for him. But he doesn't have to know, that this best friend secretly loves him so so much. He wouldn't have to know that, despite hurting himself in the process, his best friend will always be there for him, just for him, because he loved him so so much that it hurts more to leave. Maybe if I had been a little braver, then I would be the one to hold Harry's hand, to tell the world that he is mine. But I was a coward, and now Harry would never be mine. But maybe, if he had spared me another thought, he would've seen my countless efforts in wooing him, making him smile, cheering him up. Maybe he would've realised that I loved him, more than anyone else could. I hated that I love him, and I hated that I could never stop loving him.