Security

Chapter 11

"How do you really feel about me, Simon?"

The question is the first thing Harry says when he steps foot into Simon's living room, his tone no-nonsense and demanding as he drops onto the large corner sofa.

It's his eyes, and the down-turned twist to his lips that have Simon left feeling bowled over, like he's a part of the group of ten pins knocked down after Harry scores a strike.

"I-" His heart is in his ears at the moment, beating incessantly against his temple and ferociously at his throat. He's come as close to as well as saying it before, yet the words have never been spoken aloud, let alone left his lips in the presence of another person. The best he's ever done, the closest he's ever came to saying as such was that one time he used his thumb to spell the words out against his duvet, his eyes clenched shut and his quivering lips resting against Harry's forehead as the other slept on peacefully. "I'm... in love with you."

Somehow, Harry's face reads like the answer Simon gives isn't the one he is looking for. His eyebrows furrow the most miniscule amount, only noticeable to Simon as someone who has spent so much of their shared time in recent years observing Harry, whether from afar or up close. Harry's pupils, dilated in the dim lighting of the room, divulge an apparent sense of deep distress. Shiny tears pool in the corners, a glassy film of them mutating the alluring shade of his irises from a bright cornflower blue to a muted cerulean.

"Fuck."

Slowly, so as not to frighten Harry or spook himself even further, Simon approaches the sofa where Harry sits. He purposely maintains a small distance, lowering himself onto the cushion a little ways from Harry, leaving enough space for two people to sit between them comfortably. He can't help but stare, his eyes already aching to reprimand himself if his brain so much as even thinks about looking away from the shorter man.

"Is that... not what you wanted to hear? Because either way, it's the truth. Has been the truth for a little while now, if I'm totally honest."

"No," Harry starts, his voice as wet as the stain the first fallen tear leaves as it stutters down his cheek whilst he speaks. He wipes it away with his sleeve when he continues, only for another two to replace it in quick succession. "No, that's actually exactly what I wanted to hear. Probably the best news I've heard all year, even. Just... fuck. You really messed me up the other day- you and Ethan messed with my head a bit too much. It wasn't even that big of a deal, you were both just creating content. The fans will find it funny, even, I know they will."

Simon frowns, listening intently to what Harry has to say. He hates to see the man he's in love with cry, but this is definitely something they need. It is something they have needed for a while now, even before the main channel shoot yesterday and the unfortunate falling out it resulted in. Hopefully said falling out will only be short-lived.

"It doesn't matter if the fans will love how we behaved – if it upset you, it upset you. You're allowed to feel things irrespective of Sidemen fans."

"I know," Harry whispers, sniffling as another tear glides down his face, elegantly singing the ballad of his sudden sadness. Simon understands that as much as they all tell themselves otherwise, the opinions of their fans – both the good and the bad – will always take a toll on them, will always have them clutched dangerously in their nasty claws of criticism. "I just. I just felt really hurt by what you did. I overreacted, Tobi told me I did, and I can see that now. But... my emotions were running so high yesterday because we keep getting separated in shoots recently, and I feel really stupid because we haven't even given whatever it is we are a label yet, so I'm just spending hours agonising over my feelings for a rando."

Simon tries not to let the word 'rando', and Harry's decision to describe him as such, get to him. He knows he fails as he speaks, a raw bitterness underlining his words as he bites out, "You know I'm not just some rando to you." Almost as an afterthought to himself, but an evident extension in real time, he adds, "Never call me that again. I'm being so serious."

Boundaries. That's part of what they need to establish by the end of this conversation, at least by half. Even though they have known each other for over a decade by now, been close friends and more within that time frame, clear boundaries had never been set between them: they had always either been inferred or presumed by the other, sometimes even imagined. It had previously worked perfect for them, but Simon was once again learning that a relationship is much more complicated than the media portrays it to be. Even the pre-relationship stage has already kicked his arse to the emotional equivalent of Narnia and back.

"I'm sorry." Harry apologises, and it's as he chokes on a sob at the end that Simon lunges forward, his arms outstretched as he pulls Harry's body towards him, sparing a momentary thought to the fact that he had probably yanked the other against his chest a little too aggressively, his hold tight and constrictive. The thought is quickly abandoned, replaced by the realisation that his own eyes feel wet, traitorous tears fighting against his dignity as they silently shudder their way down his stubbled cheeks.

"Don't be sorry, Harry. I screwed up yesterday by trying to test your commitment to me." The truth sounds fucked up even to his own ears, or maybe especially. "I'm still holding on to past relationship issues and I let them affect my relationship with you before I could even call it that in places that weren't just in my dreams. We both should have had this conversation a while ago, before I let things get out of hand the way they did."

Harry's skin is slowly drying from his tears, his eyes rimmed with pink as the tears cease but his eyes remain glazed with physical feeling. "You were trying to test my commitment to you?"

"I know it sounds bad, and it is," Simon murmurs, the jury still out on whether he says it more to himself or Harry, spoken softly against Harry's hair since his chin currently rests against the top of the younger man's head after he forcefully roped the other into a hug. "I was reminded of something and it left me testy and miserable, which resulted in me acting out against you in an attempt to drive you away from me. I'm the one who should be saying sorry."

Harry makes the effort to pull away from him then, and Simon of course has no reason or right to disallow him the option. Once he removes himself from Simon's hold, he moves back enough to look over at the older man with a wounded gaze.

"Do you not trust me?"