Counterbalance

Chapter 3

Harry's finally comfortable—legs stretched across the couch, a pillow perfectly placed behind his back, ice packs and remote in arm's reach—when someone knocks on his front door. He grunt-roars at the ceiling, then starts the arduous task of standing and walking clear across his house. He's not even sure what he bought recently that would be delivered to him. He hopes it's not another pre-portioned, high-protein meal delivery service that his dad secretly signed him up for. He's perfectly capable of cooking his own damn dinners.

He opens the door with a scowl, then blinks a few times when he sees who it is. "What?"

"Hi to you too." Standing there with a grocery bag and an amused smirk is Tommo. "That's exactly how I sound after a crash."

Harry sighs as he leans against the door frame. "Tommo, what are you doing here?" He doesn't have the energy to trade barbs. Least of all with Tommo. He has a couch and a gorgeous shade of cherry blossom pink calling his name.

"Can't a guy stop by and see how his greatest competition is feeling without it being suspicious?" Tommo asks, smirk still firmly in place.

"Seriously, Tomlinson. What do you want?"

Tommo's face falls and Harry reminds himself that Tommo's the one being rude in this scenario, showing up uninvited and being a general pain in the ass.

"Seriously? That was a hell of crash and I didn't see you afterwards. I was worried." He shifts his weight, then lifts the grocery bag. "I brought treats? In case you were up for hanging out?" A six-pack of beer dangles from his other hand.

A breeze chills Harry's legs since he's standing there in shorts. Tommo shivers. Harry should close the door and walk away. "Did my dad send you?"

"What? No. Why?"

"You two seemed pretty chummy earlier. Thought maybe he'd ease his guilt of not stopping by himself, by sending you instead."

"Oh. No. I—Sorry. This is weird. I know we're not, like, friends, but I thought... I don't know. I guess, I don't know."

"I don't need a friend." It comes out snappier than Harry really meant. But also it's true.

"Whoa. Okay. Sorry. Again. For bothering you." Tommo takes two steps back, hands in the air and lips pressed tightly together.

Tommo's in black skinnies and a blue hoodie. With his hair down and unstyled, swooped across his forehead, and hood up, he looks young. And sad. Damn it.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm being a dick." Harry steps back and motions for Tommo to follow him. "Thank you. For checking on me."

"Of course." Tommo takes a cautious step forward. "You sure?"

"Can't promise I'll be good company, but you're welcome to sit for as long as you can stand to be around me."

And just like that, Tommo's inside Harry's house.

"I knew what I was getting into when I offered," Tommo says.

Harry hobbles back to the couch as Tommo takes off his shoes. "If you want some water or something, help yourself. I'm sure you can find your way around the kitchen." He's still getting himself comfortable when Tommo walks in with two beers, placing one down in front of Harry. He looks around for a place to sit, since Harry's taking up the entire couch. Too late, Harry remembers the Bio Seaweed Gel nail polish set up on the table in front of him, complete with UV nail curing lamp. He doesn't want to draw attention to it now; there's a good chance Louis doesn't even know what it's all for.

"You can move, uh, that bag." Harry points to his dance bag on the lone chair; it's full of tights and leg warmers and his dance belt. It's normally stashed at the bottom of his closet, which he always chalked up to paranoia because surprise visitors randomly stumbling upon it—and his secret—was ridiculous. His heart pounds as Tommo picks it up, even though Tommo already knows that he dances. But it's probably one thing to see him in tight-fitting sweats and a tank top teaching kids, and a whole other thing to see what he really looks like in his element. He can feel his cheeks flush. The one thing he's scared of, and it's over in an instant, as Tommo moves it without inspecting it at all, just drops it on the floor right next to the chair.