A Boy Named Harry

Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I REALLY WANT TO THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT. THIS STORY HASN'T BEEN UP LONG, BUT I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS ARE ENJOYING. I'M REALLY TRYING NOT TO RUSH IT. THERE IS STILL SO MUCH MORE TO GO AND I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU GUYS TO READ IT. PLEASE BE SURE TO COMMENT, VOTE, AND SHARE THIS STORY. I'M WORKING REALLY HARD ON IT!

            Candance was my live in nurse when I was younger. We hired her again for this round of chemo that I was soon to undergo. When my mom drove me home after being discharged from the hospital, Candance met us there. She had set up my room for emergencies and her to be able to work in. When we arrived at my house she was there with a wheelchair in the drive way and had set up a portable ramp on the porch stairs to help me into the house. Candance took ahold of my chair as soon as my mom helped me into it and wheeled me into the house and to my room. When I wheeled through the door I noticed someone on my hospital like bed. Looking up, I recognized the curls that I had only once seen before.

“Harry?” He smiled and waved to me and my mom, then realizing Candance was there and acknowledged her.

“You said Monday,” he reminded me.

“I did. Harry, this is Candance, my live in nurse,” I introduced her. “She’s gonna be here until I get better.”

“That’s soon right?” I could tell having a sick friend was already messing with him and he has no clue of the truth, yet.

“Yes, soon. Candance will stay out of the way, don’t worry. It’s only if I need anything I will call her. She’ll chat with my mom and catch up on some work in the living room while we hang out,” that’s what Candance usually does. She only comes in if I call or need something or I’m scheduled for something. Before leaving, she helps me onto the bed and inserts an IV with fluids to help keep me hydrated while I am home.

“So, feeling any better today?” Honestly, I couldn’t answer this. I looked better, and was told I was actually doing better, but I could feel every inch of my body deteriorating, wasting away and dying. Inside, I felt worse.

“Yeah. Doc wouldn’t let me go home if I wasn’t,” I smiled at him. My smile wasn’t genuine, and I wasn’t trying to make it. I don’t want to lie to Harry, but I’m not ready to tell him the whole truth.

“That’s good. So, you said you sing, too? Like me? Well, I brought a song, I wrote. It’s stupid, it was for someone. But, I’m kind of stuck, on the words. If you want to read it. Maybe you could help?” I wasn’t much of a writer, let alone with lyrics.

“Honestly, Harry, I suck at writing. I’ve never written a song in my life. But I’ll sure read it.”

He hands me the piece of paper with words on it. My eyes scan real quick and begin on the top of the paper. It was beautiful, his words and the way they were written. How melodic they were just as a poem. His writing and path of the phrases made me view life differently, I must add. Continuing on with the art he allowed me to view, I stumbled upon a word I didn’t expect. Him. Him? Was this about another guy?

“Harry? I don’t mean to sound rude, but are you..gay?”

“Wait, what?” His cheeks flushed and eyes widened, snatching the paper from my hand. “I’m sorry,” he says and he runs his hand over his face and through his hair. “I gave you the wrong one. Please, I’m sorry. Just, don’t tell anyone.” He seemed worried about this. I inferred that his own mum didn’t know, let alone anyone else.

“It’s fine, Harry. I’m not judging. You’re secret is safe with me.”

“Can we just-can we change the subject?” I understood why he would want to.

“Absolutely.” Just as I answer, Harry’s eye catches to the picture by me bed, a picture of me and Liam. We had both just turned 15 in it, right before he became cancer free.

“Who’s this,” he grabs the picture.

“An old friend.” I smiled at the remembrance of him, but my face soon changed, realizing that the boy is gone.

“Were you guys close?” Harry looks over at me and notices my face.

“Yes, very. But he died a few months ago.”

“Oh, I’m really sorry, Louis. I had no-“

“It’s okay. He was really sick. But he fought really hard. Maybe someday I’ll tell you more about him.”

Harry could tell how the subject of Liam made me feel, and from then on he never really brought him up. For the rest of the time Harry was over we enjoyed some video games and a movie. It was really relaxing, and Harry was a great companion.

Sitting on the bed, Harry looks over to me. “Bisexual.” My head snaps immediately at his remark and he looks away. “I’m not gay, I’m bisexual. But, I’ve never told anyone. You’re now the only one who knows.” I smiled at the tall boy, knowing he had shared something deep and personal with me. I only knew him about and week and a half and he felt comfortable enough to share something with me he had never told anyone before.

“Okay.” I wanted him to know I didn’t care. I didn’t care what gender he liked. Harry was Harry, and that’s all that mattered. The more I found out about Harry, the more he intrigued me. The more of a connection I felt with him. There was something different about this boy that I couldn’t put my finger on, but I knew I liked it.

Harry left a few minutes later, his mom picked him up. We continued to text and learn little things about each other. This week I now know his favorite food and favorite song. Little things I keep learning. I don’t mind taking my friendship with Harry slow. After losing Liam, I wasn’t sure I was up to making a friend ever again. My worry is them losing me, just like I lost him. Losing someone isn’t the greatest feeling, and I didn’t want to put anyone through that. It was enough that my family will feel the pain, but Harry didn’t deserve it. Harry was different, he was special, almost fragile. I felt like I wanted to protect him. I think I loved him long before I truly realized it, maybe even from the moment I met him. I knew he loved me then, he told me once. I smile every time I think about it, the moment we first met, the moment he shared his secret with me. Those two simple things mean more than I’m sure I will ever fully comprehend.

The more I got to know Harry, the more I felt bad for not telling him about me, what I was dealing with. But as time went on, I began to feel better, stronger. Almost as if I were never sick, just like Doc said. I thought, if I could beat this disease, then maybe I wouldn’t ever have to tell him. But keeping the secret killed me. Because as much as I hated to admit it, I cared about Harry, a lot. I cared about a lot of people, but not like I cared for Harry, and not like I would later realize. Even as just a friend, Harry meant much to me.