Got the sunshine on my shoulders - by: hattalove

chapter seven

He wakes up at – Jesus, eight in the morning – to his phone ringing. He frowns a little as he paws around on his bed trying to silence it, and it takes him a few seconds to register the time.
It's late back home; it's probably bad news.

He almost strangles himself with the duvet trying to get it then, and finally spots it on the ground, kicked halfway under the bed.

He barely registers his splitting headache as he looks at the screen.

Marcus, it says, alongside no fewer than eight heart emojis.

"Hello?" Harry picks up, panting.

"Babe," Marcus' voice comes through the line. He doesn't sound hurt or worried or—anything, really, other than cheerful. "Were you just on a run?"

A run. Right. Because Harry likes to do that in the mornings, at least when his life is not being turned upside down.

He tries to slow down his heart, and in turn his breathing.

"No," he replies. "Just got a bit scared, isn't it midnight over there?"

"Oh," Marcus laughs. Harry can hear his friends making a ruckus in the background. "I guess it is. We're just on the move, and we had reception for a bit, and I just missed you so much, so I talked Johnny into lending me his phone."

Right. Right. He's on another retreat. Wilderness in the middle of nowhere, his mates, a couple of guitars, writing. That's what he does, and that's why he hasn't called.

Harry hasn't really had time to miss him yet, but he doesn't want to think about that.

"It's good to hear your voice," he says instead, and it's the truth. He feels immediately relaxed, and he falls back into the sheets with his limbs splayed. "When are you coming home?"

He asks someone in the background, or at least that's how it sounds. "Is it Saturday today?" he asks.

"Uh," Harry blinks. He has absolutely no concept of time. "I think so?"

"Right," Marcus laughs. He's—very happy. "If it is, then Wednesday afternoon. Do you think you'll be back yet?"

Harry bites his lip. "Probably not, I'm sorry."

He says something to someone else again. "That's okay, don't worry about it. I told you you wouldn't want to leave when you saw your family after so long."

His family. That's right, Harry, remember the lie you told your fiancé about why you're flying out here?

"Yeah, it's just—yeah. It's really nice to be back."

"How are they?" Marcus asks. He sounds so interested, and Harry doesn't have the heart to tell him no. "Did they miss you a lot?"

"Of course they did," Harry smiles, drawing mindless shapes into the wrinkled duvet. His finger catches on a sheet of paper, and his thoughts stutter. "It's been a few years. I'm worried they won't let me go back."

"Just call me if you need saving," Marcus laughs. "I don't want my first time meeting them to be when I have to tell them off for hogging you so long, but if I need to do it, I will."

"My hero," Harry says, ignoring the barely-there edge to Marcus' voice. They've been together for two years, and Marcus took him to meet his parents only a few months in.

They don't like Harry, but that's beside the point. Marcus clearly wants him to return the favour, and it's only right that he should. They're getting married soon, for Christ's sake.

"Anything for you, honey," he says. Harry blushes a little, uncomfortable. "Listen, I have to go—"

"Already?" Harry pouts. This is the first time they've talked in almost a week. Now that he was able to stop, and think about his fiancé, he's greedy for his attention.