Short Stories

Give Me Warmth Give Me Holiday Cheer (Narry)

Why now? People were supposed to get colds in between the changing seasons, not right before Christmas, a time for cheer and happiness, but instead he's shuffling down the soup aisle, one hand clutched to his brown trench coat, the other stuffed into his pocket.

Broccoli and Cheddar Soup, that's all he needed, one small tin of miserable curing medicine that will wipe away the massive headache and dry throat. Harry had taken pills all night long, canceling his parents invitation to dinner to stay at home and cough his vocal cords out. He just wanted to get better and curl up by the Christmas tree, opening presents and watching other people open presents that he was happy to give.

But no, he was in a deserted gas station-the only thing opened-with two day old socks on, some stained pajamas and matted hair, and a big red nose and droopy eyes just tying his miserable appearance up. He was almost glad that there was just an old man reading the news paper at the front counter, obviously having nothing else to do on Christmas Eve.

But wait, God dammit, he sees the bell ring and almost ducks but realizes that would just give him more attention, the sound of dragged slippers and never-ending sniffles gradually comes closer till a boy around his age, in the same state as he is, is walking down the soup aisle, both hands clasped around a dirty and ancient jacket.

The boy doesn't bother looking up, but he can see the piercing blue eyes through the curtain of blonde hair, focused all gloomy and tired down at the floor.

And he almost forgot the soup, an alarm going through his mind as the boy goes for the exact can, which, seems to be the last one, and Harry's stubborn and cold and so done with Christmas and body shivers that he just flings his hand out and grabs it, hands clutching it to his chest.

"You dumb shit head." He growls in his mind, staring down wide eyed at the fragile looking boy, who lets out a surprised wheeze and then a lung-rattling cough. Clasping onto his chest while slowly lifting his head, dazed and exhausted eyes just stare blankly at him.

"I-I'm so sorry, God I'm such a bastard, here-cough-have it." Harry croaked out, hands coming out to fiddle awkwardly with the other boys, his mind dazed and on cloud nine staring at that boys face, how memorizing it was.

He places the can of his beloved soup into the boys palm, the boy weakly clutching onto it. But then he softens his hold and shakes his head, floppy and knotted blonde hair shifting off his face. "No, you seemed-cough-seemed pretty sincere on having-wheeze-it." The boy shakily brings out his hands and takes a hold of Harry's, but Harry holds tightly-as tightly as his weak state can hold-onto the boys hand and re-grasping the can into the boys hands. "You look like you need it more then me." Harry says and gives the boy a weak smile, patting the boney and flushed knuckles and then moving past him, walking down the aisle, just ready to go home and forget about the world, have another disgusting cup of coffee since he had no money to buy tea, his plans for soup in bed were crushed, but a flutter in his chest made him smile, because that beautiful boy should be smiling, it would look way more better on him. He kind of felt a pang of jealousy, sad that he didn't get to meet the boy in his happiness, see those electrifying blue eyes even more lively then they already were. He wishes he could be in the shoes of the people that got to be in his presence while he was shinning with smiles and wrinkly-cornered eyes.

Suddenly, a hand was holding onto his shoulder, spinning him around making him let out a surprised sniffle, seeing that beautiful boy once again, giving him a weary smile. "Uhm, I-I'm lonely this Christmas, and since we're both sick and need a little soup, d-do you want to come to my house?" The boy was staring down at the ground, a dark blush spreading across his chubby cheeks. The flutter in Harry's stomach was now engulfed in flames, his whole body feeling hot with love and happiness.