Needle and Thread

18

Lunch the next day is an awkward affair, but it's no worse than Harry is used to. The four boys sit in the booth of a local greasy spoon, menus propped up between them as they decide what to eat.

"Why would anyone want warm tuna mayo?" Alex shudders, grimacing in disgust as his eyes scan the menu. Beside him, Luke pulls a face of concern, flipping frantically through his own menu until he finds a hot lettuce salad, and promptly gags.

The other side of the table isn't nearly as chaotic. Harry sits across from Alex, feet firmly tucked beneath his seat lest his shins fall victim to an accidental battering from his tall friend and his absurdly long legs. Brandon sits to Harry's left, staring blankly at the specials board and avoiding interacting with Harry at all costs. How they've ended up seated next to one another, god only knows. And Luke. Luke knows everything these days.

After a few minutes of silent deliberation, Alex slides out from his seat to place the lunch orders, leaving Luke to have a crack at easing the tense atmosphere of their table.

"Wow, great weather we're having," He tries.

"It's raining," Harry says.

"Way to state the obvious." Brandon mutters.

"Well, I just so happen to love the rain. A lot," Luke says, far louder than appropriate in such a public setting. "If it was real, I'd marry it."

Harry and Brandon exchange befuddled glances. It's the first point of contact either of them have made in weeks, but it makes sense that Luke is the cause.

"Luke, I don't know how to break it to you, but the rain is very real," Harry explains.

"Very much so," Brandon adds.

The truce is silent, but it exists. Harry offers Brandon a small, apologetic smile, and he accepts it with a short nod. The curtain closes on their argument, and from there, normality takes centre stage.

A little while later, Alex returns with their food- a collection of messily constructed sandwiches and paninis, with sides of ready salted crisps, coleslaw and limp lettuce leaves. Harry sceptically peers down at his lunch, as do his friends with their own food. It was suspiciously cheap, that much they can admit, but almost anything is better than the lunches served in the school cafeteria.

"So, who's the girl?" Brandon asks once Harry has taken a suitably large bite out of his panini.

Mouth full, Harry's face twists into a confused frown. "What girl?"

Brandon points to an indistinct area on Harry's neck. "The one who gave you that?"

Alex and Luke burst into a round of poorly disguised snickers, hiding their smiles behind the leafy outcrop of their chicken salad sandwiches, and Brandon's mouth twitches with a grin of his own. Harry, on the other hand, doesn't find the situation so amusing. His face burns red as he recalls the events of yesterday afternoon, tucked away in the private haven of Jj's family library. It was meant to be a private moment, something for Harry and Jj to share, but their carelessness has opened up a can of worms that Harry isn't willing to deal with. Not until far into the future, when he's far away from this town and its ever running rumour mill.

"Oh. You wouldn't know her," He mumbles, taking a surreptitious sip of his lemonade.

Brandon remains unconvinced, Luke chokes on his laughter, and Alex has never looked more confused in all the years Harry has known him. No one pushes Harry for an answer, not after the disaster that was Alex's party, but neither do they hide their dissatisfaction with their answer. Lunch ends in a series of pointed stares, stage whispers, and god awful food.

"Tell Jj he's got good technique," Luke whispers once they're on their way back to school, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning fiendishly. Harry gives him an unimpressed glare, the effect of which is dampened by his violently flushed cheeks, and attempts to shove his friend into the nearest roadside ditch.