camp cherry | hs

seven

he looks like a baby grandpa

✩︎

HANA

"I have loads of movies!" Harry exclaims excitedly as he flings himself backwards onto his comfortable bed, both of us now in the fragile security of his cabin, all too aware that anyone could walk past and see me here.

"Good for you, that concerns me because...?" I remark playfully, taking a seat at the edge, his feet kicking playfully at my back.

"Want to watch one with you," his tone is childlike, a matching innocent pout adorning his features as he holds up a TV remote and several packets of candy and chocolate, his other hand gesturing to a stash of sodas in his drawer. "Please? You can choose," his kind words and easy smile persuade me as I sigh and snatch a chocolate bar from the bed.

"I have to leave by half seven, need to make sure my cabin is tidy," I compromise, his back pressed to the wood behind the bed as I rifle through the available films in a chest by his desk.

"Mhm, make sure you don't have anything you shouldn't." I can feel his gaze burning into the side of my head, my cheeks flushing from his words and the implication of them, knowing he knew full well about the condoms.

"Maybe you should make sure you don't have things you're not meant to," I quip, taking a bite of the chocolate.

"I'm a counsellor, I can have what I want."

"Sure. Do you want a horror movie?" He tenses, giving me an uncomfortable look and an awkward smile before nodding tersely. Slightly perturbed by his odd reaction, I continue eating as I flick through the few horror movies I can see, deciding on The Poltergeist, which, although I've watched it a thousand times, jumps out to me the most. About ten minutes in, Harry's leg began to shake, his foot tapping the mattress and eliciting a soft, short thud each time, "you alright?"

"Fine. Just really excited for the movie. It looks really good," he rambles, stuffing a handful of candy in his mouth as if to shut himself up.

"Harry? Are you... afraid of scary movies?"

"Psh, no. I'm a man, I don't get scared," his voice is high and rushed, such a contrast to his usual tone.

"Ah, right. Why are you shaking then?"

"'Told you, I'm just excit—shit! Fuck!" A jump-scare plays on the screen. Harry's voice increases a few octaves and his hands fly to cover his face in terror. He glares at me as I giggle at his reaction, not expecting the boy beneath the tough and confident demeanour he presents, to be so terrified of a film.

"Harry, calm down," I reassure him through my laughter, tears of amusement slipping from my eyes each time he gets scared. At some point when he isn't screaming, his hand finds its way to mine, intertwining our fingers and a soft smile playing on his lips at the contact. I spend at least ten minutes studying and mentally tracing the cross on his hand, right next to his thumb, before Harry catches me and squeezes my hand, averting my attention back to the movie.

✩︎

"It's half-seven, Harry, I need to go," he had begun to drift into sleep, his head falling to rest on my shoulder and his hand never ceasing its hold on mine.

"Stay. Just ten more minutes," he mumbles, his voice muffled as he speaks into the fabric of my shirt. I sigh in defeat, stroking his fluffy hair delicately and twisting a stray curl around my finger. I feel him smile against my shoulder, making me roll my eyes to myself as I struggle to fight my own beaming contentment.