Security

Chapter 2

Three days later, at the shoot for another Sidemen Sunday video, Harry has a meltdown and consequently ruins the day for everyone. (Simon assured him he's exaggerating, no, Harry, you haven't ruined the day at all, mate, I promise, but Harry can't get the glare of the cameraman he exploded at out of his head.)

He feels guilty, struggling to look anyone in the eye as the crew bustles about sorting last-minute preparations in order for the shoot to still go on; the majority avoid so much as a glance in his direction. He feels bad for JJ and Tobi specifically, all their hard work practically for naught as Harry apparently can't keep a cap on his emotions despite being a man in his late twenties - he's near enough in his thirties!

"Hey, Harry," Tobi utters as he approaches him, the 'hey' slow and emphasised in a way that makes Harry's gut feel queasy, "Feel free to step out at any moment if you need to, yeah?"

Harry nods once as Tobi inclines his head in a gentle gesture towards the exit of the large, spacious studio space they've rented. He understands that the offer is well-meaning, but it twists something ugly in the pit of his stomach, scratches something angry at the back of his mind. His eyes burn a hole in the bleached flooring to stop himself from succumbing to those sensations. The last thing he wants to do is take his misplaced frustrations out on Tobi, who definitely wouldn't deserve it.

"M-mayb-be la-later." He proffers, scuffing the toe of one trainer against the floor and then the other trainer. The action leaves a mark that he ignores in favour of walking off, away from Tobi. He needs to not be anywhere near the other with his kind eyes and caring tone.

(He suddenly feels like screaming. Again.)

He impulsively decides that he will take Tobi up on his offer, then hastily heads towards the exit before anyone else can take the chance to catch him and talk to him.

"Watch it, Harry," Comes as Harry feels himself bump into someone, his stomach immediately settling when he processes the fact that it's just Simon. (Well, it's never quite 'just' Simon, but at the same time, it's 'just Simon'. The differentiation makes sense in his Harry's subconscious mind.)

Simon looks at him for barely two seconds before he reaches out to grasp the smaller man's arm and tug him towards the door. As they walk past people - Simon purposely ignores their stares and Harry feels too dazed to even notice for once - Harry manoeuvres his wrist out of Simon's strong hold, shuffling his hand until it rests against the other's palm. Their fingers intertwine as they leave through the doorway one by one, but only because the space is too small for the both of them to walk through it at the same time.

Less than five minutes later, after weaving through multiple corridors and descending three floors, the two men come to lean against the outer wall of the studio building. The ragged, burnt sienna bricks scratch against the backs of their hoodies and feel rough against the skin of their hands. Harry refused to separate their interlocked fingers as they squeezed in and out of the crowded lift, so of course they're still clutching at each other now. They have no reason to let go of each other, neither literally nor figuratively, and have no intention of doing so anytime soon.

"What would you do if I bit you right now?"

"What?" Rather than recoiling and exclaiming, aghast, that Harry better explain this instance what he means, Simon raises an eyebrow and tilts his head until he can get a proper look at Harry's face. His voice sounds a mixture of fond bafflement and amused intrigue.

Harry flushes, looking faintly embarrassed as he drops his head so Simon can't see his eyes. "Sorry, that just came out. I'm not feeling right just yet and," here he shrugs, actually looking up to make eye contact with Simon, "I dunno, for some reason I had a thought that if I bite you I might feel better."