“Hey there, little Ducky! I haven’t seen you all weekend. How was it?” Harry smiled at you, his eyes glistening. He always called you Ducky, ever since the third grade when you wore a sickly yellow ruffled dress to match your favorite stuffed animal. He never let you live it down, but since it was Harry, you didn’t mind. “Get over it, Haz. With those shorts, I wouldn’t be talking.” You poked his thigh, clothed by the yellow shorts you had bought him as a joke two years ago. Needless to say, they were too tight for him. You didn’t mind. They fit your best friend perfectly.
You went to sit next to him. “Very funny, Ducky. Really, you crack me up.” You rolled your eyes. He was one to joke about bad jokes? Harry? The king of knock-knock, your girlfriend wants me? “Don’t sit there. Sit here.” He patted his lap and brought you down. “That’s better.” Your cheeks were red, but neither of you paid attention to the heat in your face. “But, to answer your question, my weekend was just as boring as this conversation.” He put his hand on your leg playfully, dimple in his left cheek showing, not that you could see it. “I highly doubt someone like you could have a boring three day vacation.”
You always sat home, watched whatever was on the television, ate, and then went to sleep. You spent this ‘holiday’ in your bedroom looking at your old yearbook. You and Harry were together in almost every picture, except on the pages regarding the school dances. Those photos were reserved for his girlfriend. She had never been nice to you or Harry, until the day that your best friend’s voice had developed. Suddenly, she was all over him. Their supposed love story sounded like a smut fiction someone had tried to write at one in the morning when they ran out of ideas. You could remember the day at your summer house with Harry when you had something important to tell him.
You had finally thought through all of your feelings for him, and just as you suddenly got up the courage, after multiple years of spending summers with his family, you brought him up to the attic to talk about it. Harry, however, had great news for you. He couldn’t stay to talk for very long because he had planned on sneaking out to his girlfriend’s cabin. It was their three-month anniversary, as if that was even a thing. Harry hadn’t told you, but he had plans for the night. Since his girlfriend’s parents would be out on the boat, she would be alone and waiting for Harry.
“So what did you wanna tell me, Ducky?” He questioned after he had already asked you to cover for him in any case that his parents found him missing. “I just wanted to say…” You hesitated. “I’m glad we’re friends, Y/N.” You nodded in response. “Took the words straight out of my mouth, Haz. You always do.” Unless he only twists your tongue, that is. “Is that all you wanted to say, babe?” Again, you nodded your head slightly. His arms embraced you. “Thank you for this, babe. It means a lot that I can talk to you about anything.” You tried to smile. “Yeah, Haz. Anything at all.” He left you there alone, missing the warmth his body radiated to your skin. Instead of the heat you deserved, it was about to be handled by the only girl you never could accept as his lover.
So, you sat there, in your pillow fort, the one you had built with Harry when you were eight, and you put your head in your hands. Harry was the first guy you would cry over. He was the only person who, in your mind, deserved your tears. Just as you had been the only one to give your best male friend a teddy bear at the first grade Valentine’s Day social, you were the only half to share your heart now. You hated when you weren’t being productive, though.
You didn’t want to cry over a boy. It wouldn’t ruin your life, only being friends. It would let you become stronger. So, you grabbed your old journal. It was pink with purple custom pages, not always your favorite colors, but something Harry had once bought when you took an interest in literature. It hadn’t even been your birthday, or Christmas, just something that Harry always did. He was nice like that, thoughtful. You grabbed the pen from the spiral binding and began to write.
