be there for you

sixteen .

There, trembling, completely drenched in rain, is Simon.

"Simon, what are you—"

"I lost my key," Simon says out of nowhere. "I'm really cold, and-"

Without any warning, Simon's voice breaks and he chokes out a sob. There's a pang of pain in Harry's chest, and seemingly no hesitation whatsoever as he immediately tugs the elder inside.

He pays no mind to the water soaking Simon's clothes, pulling him into a tight hug which is immediately reciprocated. Harry's nails dig into his waist, but it's easily ignored.

In all honesty, Harry is absolutely terrified. He's never seen Simon like this, so vulnerable, crumbling apart before his eyes. Simon is always composed and smiling, no matter what, so having him sobbing in his arms is extremely scary.

"I got kicked out," Simon hiccups. "So did Chris, he's with- he's with Tobi, I brought him to Tobi."

"You got kicked out?"

"Yes, my parents wouldn't let me take my- my stuff, my phone is dead, and-"

"Simon, hey, breathe."

Simon stops talking, on the verge of hyperventilating. Harry searches his brain for techniques that Simon himself uses, when Harry is struggling, and he pieces together a rough plan of what to do.

Carefully, Harry repositions his arms, hugging Simon tightly. He's unsure how well compression works on the elder, but Simon accepts it, so he continues.

"Can you say the alphabet backwards?" Harry asks quietly. It's something Vikk taught him- a way to distract yourself on something complex enough to need focus, but easy enough to not cause frustration.

"Can I say- huh?"

"The alphabet. Backwards."

Simon is silent for a few moments, but before Harry can repeat himself again, he slowly starts reciting letters. His voice is shaky, hoarse, but Harry listens intently as he goes through it.

Somewhere between N and M, Simon's voice steadies, and by F, his breathing is normal again. He's still shaking like a leaf, but that's most likely from the cold rain. Despite his apparent coherence, Harry still doesn't ask any questions, wanting to give him time to fully compose himself.

"You should change your clothes. You're freezing." Harry says, attempting to remove himself from Simon. It fails, due to the others death grip on him. "You're going to get sick."

Simon tightens his grip. "Chris came out as bisexual. To my parents."

It takes all of two seconds for Harry to understand the implications behind Simon's words, and when he does, his blood runs cold.

"Clearly, they didn't- they didn't take it well." Simon gets out. "You know, I didn't take it well either, not when they called him a disgusting queer."

"Oh, Si..."

"Didn't think I'd ever punch my dad, but I guess we all do things that we never thought we would." Simon's laugh is strained, quickly cut short by tense silence.

Simon pulls away from the hug, finally releasing his hold on Harry. His eyes are puffy, dried tear tracks on his blemished cheeks. "I told them I was gay, and that was their final straw. They threw me and Chris out without warning. I drove him to Tobi and Vikk's."

When Simon meets Harry's eyes, he puts on a weak smile, wiping his eyes and laughing to himself. "It's okay. I'm okay. I'm sorry for going silent with no warning."

Now Harry's even more scared. He just watched his best friend go from a total mental breakdown to smiling and apologizing in a matter of minutes, and it's scary how fast Simon bottled himself up.

He never thought Simon would bottle himself up like this, he's always been honest, and seemingly open. Yet, as the elder stands in front of him, he's starting to realize some things about him.

"Be honest with me, Simon," Harry says, meaning to sound solid but his voice comes out weak and pleading. "Please, be honest, are you okay?"

Simon's smile falls, and he shakes his head, looking down at the floor. His shoulders start to shake, and Harry quickly reaches forward to support him when his knees buckle.

"My parents made Chris cry, they- they said he was a poor excuse of a son. If they had told me that, I wouldn't have cared as much, but Chris- he's just barely seventeen." Simon rambles, burying his face in Harry's neck. Harry lets him get it out, supporting his weight as he rubs circles into his back.

It takes fifteen minutes until Simon finally breaks away and goes to get changed. While he does that, Harry changes out of his shirt into a large hoodie, not bothering to change his tracksuit bottoms since Simon didn't transfer any water below his chest.

When Simon appears in Harry's room, Harry thinks this is the weakest he's ever seen him.

He's wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, paired with pink and white plaid pajama bottoms that seem to be from Harry's closet. His hair is damp, and Harry doesn't want to look at his face, because it hurts to see him.

He's not smiling like he usually is, lips pressed into a thin line. His cheeks are puffy and splotched with red, and there's swelling around his eyelids from crying. Harry immediately looks away.

Without a word, Simon pads across the room, sliding next to Harry in his bed. He lets it happen, allowing Simon to curl up next to him and cuddle close. His arms wrap around Harry's waist, face buried in the crook of his neck. When Harry moves closer, he can smell the rainwater in his best friend's hair.

His hand subconsciously comes up to run through Simon's dyed blonde hair, and he relaxes. "Do you want to talk?" Harry asks quietly, looking down at the elder.

Simon's eyes flutter closed, and he exhales against Harry's skin. "No."

"Okay."