“You know”, Harry starts, “When I wasn't here yet, I used to play this game with myself. Like try to figure out what people did, where they lived, stuff like that.”
I nod, moving just a little closer to him so our shoulders touch again. It’s become a tradition, watching TV together every evening, pausing every now and then to talk about the episode or other random things.
It’s a thing I enjoy a lot. I like being in Harry’s presence, it might be one of my favourite feelings ever, having him close.
“I used to think you were older when I didn’t really see you yet. I didn’t notice how small you were.”
I roll my eyes and he giggles quietly what makes my heart flutter with happiness.
“Anyways”, he continues, “I was so sure you had like this really disgustingly perfect life, you know. I just couldn’t comprehend how you’d have the money to pay me for everything. Still don’t know to this day, considering your flat isn’t exactly the most expensive one.”
I decide I won’t tell him about my situation, not now. Decide that will have to wait a little longer, until I really am sure I can trust him with everything.
Harry continues talking anyways. I like how he talks a little more, a little faster every day, not thinking about every word anymore. He’s making progress.
“I also thought you had a girlfriend.” Harry slaps his hand in front of his mouth and laughs.
“What’s so funny about that?”, I shout.
He laughs again and shrugs. “I don’t think you’re the girlfriend type.”
I shake my head in agreement. I really am not. Even though, according to my friends, I’m not a relationship type at all.
“More like a boyfriend type?”, I ask.
He nods slowly with a smile on his lips. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t continue talking and keeps staring at the paused screen. I’m pretty sure there’s something on his mind. There usually is when he stops talking mid story.
“Hey, Louis?”, he then breathes, quietly.
“Yes, Harry?”
“What if I was more like a boyfriend type as well?”
He says it quickly and quietly, as if I’d judge him for that. It’s not like I knew. It’s just that I noticed how open he was towards watching series with gay couples in them, how he sometimes stared at my rainbow bracelet for a few seconds, how he never once asked about me being gay.
“Then that’d be fine as well.”
He shrugs, not looking convinced. “I don’t know. That’s your opinion.”
“Yeah, it is. But other opinions are wrong, Harry. It’s fine not to be straight.”
He shakes his head slightly. “Some don’t think so.”
It hurts a little bit because I am pretty sure he didn’t get accepted back home. I’m pretty sure he had bad experiences with that topic.
“Whoever told you that, love, it’s wrong. It’s okay to be openly queer.”
“I don’t know if I can. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of people I don’t trust.”
I smile a little. It means he trusts me, doesn’t it? Maybe he’ll open up to be one day. Maybe the closest thing we do won’t be talking about work one day.
“I’d be okay with being openly queer in front of you though. I think I would.”
I smile. “Thank you. For trusting me.”
“Thank you. For accepting me.”
“Of course, love. Always.”
And then he searches for my hand under the cover and locks his pinkie with mine as if he wanted to make a promise.
Maybe he just wants me close physical too. Maybe he’s promising. To always accept me as well. I’d like both options.
“Maybe one day I’ll be as brave as you are”, he then whispers with a smile on his lips.
“I’m pretty sure you already are.”
He just shrugs lightly and keeps smiling. “Maybe. Probably not.”
“Probably yes.”
He rolls his eyes and unlocks our fingers again. My finger feels really cold afterwards, as if there was something important missing now.
“Shut up.”
“Yourself.”
He snorts and grabs the remote before turning the TV back on with a small smile on his lips. I wonder if it could be me what makes him so happy. I think he’s the reason for my constant good mood and tingling in my tummy.
“What else did you think about me?”, I interrupt the series after a few minutes again, talking to him just is more exciting than that boring episode, “When you played your game, I mean.”
Harry frowns, thinking. “I thought you were an asshole, kind of. I don’t even know why. Guess I hated everyone who had it better than me. I also thought you had a job already, not that you went to uni. Maybe even had kids yet. I don’t know, you seemed older when I was only looking at your shoes.”
I laugh. “What seems so old about vans?”
He shrugs again. “Probably thought you had to be old to spend money on food for a stranger. It’s not like students usually are rich.”
“I’m not rich”, I say, hoping he’ll drop the topic again. It’s not like I enjoy talking about my father, not at all.
“I figured”, he replies, looking at me afterwards. He doesn’t ask, but there’s questions in his eyes. I know he’d probably like an explanation to why I’d spend money on him when I didn’t have enough for myself sometimes.
“My dad is.”
It slipped out a little bit. I hate talking about the situation and besides Zayn, no one really knows. I feel like owning Harry an explanation though and besides that, I also feel like trusting him.
“He sends me money. I usually don’t take any of it, only if it gets very hard to pay rent. I took some of his because I felt sorry for you. Sorry about that.”
Harry shrugs. “I don’t mind who’s money it is you gave me. It probably saved me so you have nothing to be sorry about. Sorry about your dad, though.”
He smiles carefully and I smile back, moving my hand a little closer to his in hope to find his finger again.
“It’s okay, most times.”
“You know”, he says, “If it ever isn’t, I’m always there.”
I smile even more now and have the short desire to press a kiss to his cheek. I don’t know why.
Then his finger is touching mine again and for a second, I feel like there’s fireworks erupting under my skin.
~~~
<3
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scarred wings (l.s.)
FanfictionLouis studies teaching at university. On his way there, he passes a homeless boy every morning. Harry has scars, they can't always be seen. Some are covered by the dark ink on his skin. Louis really likes Harry's butterfly tattoo.
