Weighted

8

Standing at the massive front door, Harry could already tell that his decision to come to Cal's house party unmedicated was a fucking terrible idea.

Cal greeted them with open arms and a gentle sway to his stance, indicating that he'd already had a couple of drinks by the time they arrived. JJ and Tobi soon disappeared into the crowd, and Simon found himself immediately herded off by a group of enthusiastic women wanting to be his new best friends, and some eager men just begging to get to know him. The music thumped loud, each heavy beat drilling into Harry's skull, and he couldn't even bring himself to be jealous that Simon's attention was being spent elsewhere.

He wandered alone for a while on the outskirts, sticking close to the walls and giving curt nods and polite smiles to strangers until he spotted Ethan, Josh and Vikk. He made a beeline directly to where they sat in the living room.

Ethan noticed his approach first, shuffling on the plush leather sofa to allow Harry room to sit, and offering him a hand in the drinking game they'd just started playing. Vikk leaned over to insist that it would be totally fine for him to drink something else instead of alcohol to play, words slurring slightly and breath reeking of cheap beer, the scent overpowering.

Ever the lightweight, Harry thought, offering a courteous half smile as he declined the offer, opting to watch instead.

Harry sat for a little over an hour, barely paying any attention to the game playing out in front of him. The consistent pounding of the music, combined with relentless shouting and the nauseating smell of dozens of different types of alcohol and perfumes in the air became far too much far too quickly. Harry shot up out of his chair wordlessly, excusing himself with a weak gesture and attempting to push his way through the crowd in a desperate search for fresh air and space.

With each bump and jostle from the drunken horde of partygoers, Harry felt his heart rate skyrocket and his breath quicken to a point of near hyperventilation. The edges of his eyes began getting fuzzy with fear, leaving him with just enough vision to recognise Simon's figure approaching him from the depths of the crowd.

"Hey, Harry are you okay?" Simon shouted, attempting to make his voice heard over the music.

Harry couldn't answer. He could barely even register what Simon was saying to him.

"Harry. Harry what's going on? Are you okay?" Simon shouted again, the concern in his voice growing. He reached out to grab Harry's wrist in an attempt to get his attention.

The moment Simon's hand closed around his wrist, he snapped. Eyes widening, Harry fled in a panic, not caring who he knocked over in his escape, the only thought in his mind was simply to run.

***

Simon quietly walked across the road to the playground opposite the house, the muffled sounds of sobbing directing him to his destination. The streetlamps illuminated the area in a yellowish haze, just bright enough that he didn't trip on the timber sandpit edging as he approached the playground.

Harry sat in a tight ball under one of the taller platforms, leaning uncomfortably against the back of an activity panel, hidden away from anyone passing by. One of his hands was busy furiously picking and scratching at the other.

Simon looked at him sadly, heart absolutely breaking at the sight. "Hey," he spoke softly, trying not to startle Harry too much.

No response.

"Here, I think this will help. Can you take it for me?" Simon squatted down and held out a disposable party cup of water in one hand, in the other, a small blue pill.