be there for you

twenty .

When Harry steps through the door to their shared apartment, he's met with an empty and silent living room. He expected it, but it's always been odd coming home and not being met with Simon blasting his music while he moves around the apartment.

A quick glance at the entrance to Simon's room, however, shows him that he's home, just as he said he would be. If he listens hard enough, he can hear the faint sound of his voice singing along to his music.

His own room door is also shut, with a note taped to the middle of it.

'Text me after you see what I prepared for you.'

Harry furrows his eyebrows, taking the note off of his door and wondering what it could possibly be. It's not anywhere near his birthday, or any special occasion, so he wonders what the surprise is for.

When he opens his room door, however, his breath catches in his throat and he stops dead in his tracks. The note in his hands falls to the floor, and he can't move.

There, on the wall adjacent to Harry's bed, is a collage.

It's not just a collage, it's more than that. It covers nearly the entire wall, some rows separated by strings of fairy lights.

The photos are the most important part. There's hundreds of them, from polaroids to print outs. They're all of Harry and Simon, most of them together but others individual shots. The photography is obviously Simon's, but Harry recognizes a few that he himself took when Simon offered him his camera, or photos taken by friends.

Looking at every photo awakens a new memory. Harry and Simon smiling cheekily at the beach from last summer, Harry with snow in his hair from two winters ago, Simon's bright grin as Harry tries out using his camera for the first time. He even recognizes the most recent photo, himself playing with Tilly. It's overwhelming, the rush of memories that flood through each of Harry's veins as he stands awestruck.

When he glances down, he spots another note on the bed, this one with more written on it. He forces himself to peel his eyes away from the wall, opening the note with careful hands.

Haz,

There wasn't ever a photography project. Well, there was, but it wasn't for school, I came up with this project on my own. You probably noticed that it's a memory wall.

It's not for no reason, though. I really like you, Harry. I wanted to use this as an opportunity to get my feelings out through photos, and I hope you can see that. I wonder if it's true that you can always tell someone's in love by the photos they take.

Maybe you could look back and see for yourself.

Harry pauses reading, looking back at the wall. He fixates specifically on the photos of Simon, and then the photos of himself, and he gets it.

The photos he and Simon took of each other are always natural, with bright smiles and lack of filters. There's happiness embedded in each of their gazes, a certain brightness to every photo.

Yet, the photos that other people have taken just aren't the same.

With trembling fingers, he reopens the note and returns to where he was reading.

Do you see it, Harry? I've been in love with you for years, can you see it?

I understand if you don't return the feelings, but I know you, Haz. I've known you for years, and if I'm correct, I think you feel the same. It could be wishful thinking, but I guess I don't know until you see this.

Let's not let this change us. No matter what, I'm going to be your best friend, you hear me? That's a promise.

Also... I know you're probably wondering why I love you. You doubt yourself so much, Harry, I know you. I love you because you're you, and that's it, that's what matters, right? Everything about you. Your flaws are simply parts of you, and I love them all the same.

  —Simon