Sidemen Shots

Forget Him ~ Minishaw

Starts with Kshaw, ends with Minishaw.

I got the basic idea for this as I was reading a oneshot from Mercury1Red2 Sidemen Smut book. The oneshot is from a two-part series called How Could You.

-Cheating.

Harry grunted, frustrated, as he continued searching through his bag for his keys. At this point, the old rucksack was only filled with random shit Harry obtained on his adventures, along with the odd bits he'd need at the time. Like his keys, for example. The ones he still couldn't find.

"Ugh!" A single, aggressive stomp as he yelled.

Harry turned, his face already turning pink, as he heard laughter approach him, accompanied by the soft thumping sounds of long strides, if the rhythm of the thumps were anything to go by.

There was Simon, walking along the corridor towards Harry, dangling his own set of keys from the index finger of his right hand.

"Don't worry Bog, Simon to the rescue."

Harry humphed as he zipped up his bag, swinging it back on to his back and adjusting it into place.

"My hero." Harry said, his voice dripping with as much sarcasm as his frustrated brain could muster. So, a lot.

Simon chuckled, stepping up to the door once Harry had moved out of the way. He unlocked the door with unconcious speed, pushing it open and gesturing for Harry to go in first.

"Nonce." Harry muttered, eyeing Simon's gentle smile warily.

Harry couldn't see, but Simon shook his head, his smile turning fond as he closed the door. He decided against re-locking it.

Simon took his shoes off in the entryway before heading past Harry to his room, ruffling his hair as he passed him.

Harry rolled his eyes, slipping his shoes off before following the older boy. He held the straps of his bag securely in his grasp, pulling them forward slightly as he walked to his boyfriend's room.

He knew JJ wasn't in. (Knew because the door had been locked and JJ had told him, just last night, that he had a last-minute session at the studio booked.)

Harry paused outside of JJ's room, bewildered. He turned to Simon across the hall, a small empty cardboard takeout box in his hands.

"Simon?"

Simon hummed, indicating for Harry to talk as he walked away, into the kitchen. Harry didn't start talking until he came back, his hands now empty.

"Do you hear that?"

Simon's eyebrows furrowed, his head shaking as he walked closer to Harry. When Harry pointed to JJ's door, Simon stepped closer to it, drawing his ear to the wood.

"Nah. Can't hear nothing."

Harry scrunched his lips, pushing them up and to the side in a sort of thoughtful pout, eyebrows furrowed.

Thinking nothing of it - after all, Simon couldn't hear anything - Harry held the handle down, opening the door in a single push and stepping in as soon as there was room to do so.

Harry's whole body stilled, frozen, as his face dropped. His eyes stared at the scene in front of him in horror.

There, on the bed Harry himself had woken up in this morning, was Harry's boyfriend; caught in a rather compromising situation. Except, Harry's boyfriend wasn't the only one in the bed.

Harry stared on in shock, his eyes wet and mouth open.

"Harry," Simon muttered, "Harry, come on."

Harry could feel the hands on his biceps, seemingly pulling him back and away from the scene in front of them.

"Harry." Simon said, again. The door was closed; Harry hadn't closed it. Simon was still stood behind him, but not for long. The taller boy spun Harry around with ease, despite the dead weight the younger boy had surely become.

Simon's arms were still on his biceps, Harry noticed.

"Harry..." Simon paused, unsure of where to go from this. Hesitant as to which direction he should steer the conversation. "Come on, let's have some tea, yeah? I'll even make it your way, you terror."

Harry nodded numbly, forced to register Simon's fingers between his own, their hands clasped together as Simon dragged him towards the kitchen.

Harry stood in the kitchen, watching Simon boil the kettle and prepare the tea. At the same time, however, he was also watching his boyfriend love his ex in a way he'd never even come close to with Harry. It was all replaying inside his mind, like a movie on repeat that no one could be bothered to turn off. Or pause, at least. Why bother?

"Foregt it, Harry." Simon swallowed viciously, saliva caught in his throat. "Forget him."

Simon couldn't pinpoint whether that had been too easy to say, or too hard to. Maybe a little bit of both was the answer.

Harry nodded, paying no mind to Simon as the detail of his memory doubled.

Distantly, the kettle pinged, signalling it was done. Simon made the two teas in silence, popping the milk back in the fridge before walking over to Harry with a mug of steaming, hot tea. Made just the way Harry liked. (Unfortunately.)

Harry took the mug from Simon, completely unaware that he grabbed it by the burning crock, Simon's hand still wrapped around the handle.

"Harry..." Simon whispered, his voice soft and gentle - comforting.

"Mhm?" Harry hummed, looking up at Simon as he took a gulp of drink, simply not caring when he found upon first sip that it was currently to hot to drink. Obviously, he drank it anyway, blistering or not.

"Stop. Put the mug down. Please."

Confused, Harry did as told, his arms dropping to his sides uselessly.

"Come here." Simon said, delicate smile on his face as he opened his arms wide for Harry.

Harry needed no convincing, stepping forward and slumping against Simon's body. His arms, absolutely hopeless, stayed at his sides as Simon's own wrapped themselves tightly around the younger man's body.

His bag lay on the ground now, dropped to the floor before he even took the first step.

The two stayed like that, pressed together, stood in the kitchen until their legs burnt and their teas had gone cold.

Barely five minutes in, Simon's t-shirt had dampened, hot tears sliding down Harry's face one by one. Soon, they seemed to be falling in fives.

At one stage, Harry had sobbed dolefully into Simon's neck until the considerate circles being rubbed into his lower back reduced him to silent tears once more.

Simon didn't say it was okay, not once. Because he knew it wasn't. This situation would build a bridge between him and JJ, him and Harry, likely between JJ and the rest of their friends too. And if they were unfortunate enough, it would drive Harry away from them all.

"Harry," Simon muttered, just as the sound of a door opening down the hall reached their ears. "My legs hurt, you prick."

Harry giggled wetly, face buried in Simon's chest, smashed against the wet fabric. He didn't hear the sound, but Simon did.

As heavy footfalls reached his ears, Simon pulled Harry closer to himself, grip tighter.

The footsteps stopped. The front door opened, then closed again.

The very same footsteps - this time only one pair - retreated back into the safety of JJ's bedroom.

Harry, understanding, sobbed again. How pathetic he was.

(Harry, not JJ.)

Part 2???