When You Turn Your Back [Drarry]

[8] Happiness is a butterfly

“It's not my fault — ”

“God Draco, I know it's not your fault!” Harry pushed his way up with a sigh. “I'm cursing my life.” 

“Oh,”

Draco plopped on the floor unlike Harry, pushing the curtain of hair off his face as a cue to think of something quick enough so that it didn't feel any more awkward than it already was. Although he doubted if anyone has ever faced something like it before, but as long as he was unaware of the same, he could not care any less at the moment. Glaring at the carpet did not made it whisper wise words at him to speak out, nor did biting his cheek wring out anything for the support; it only fuelled his anxiety.

The only way to recover from the stance had to be to restart moving the boxes since both of the men refused to speak about the matter any soon. For a matter of fact, Draco soon realised it tasted bittersweet to him. Being sure he would not be the one to bring up the proposal, his eyes started stealing glances at his side whenever they crossed paths while at the work and damning himself for being such a pansy.

Hence after all the forty minutes that it took them to move the boxes he grabbed the lonely bottle of scotch from the mantle with hesitant yet annoyed hands to let himself gain some gear to the situation. Sure he was going to attract some attention that he could skip but a few sips might save him from fainting around Harry the next time they walk past.

“That's proper hypocrisy.” Harry commented with his arms crossed.

“Then pardon it if you care.” Draco cleared his throat that burnt low under the alcohol. “Besides, you'll have the rest for yourself so you get to drink whenever you want.” he took another sip.

“That in no way excuses the fact that you did not let me drink and now you're chugging the bottle.” Harry demanded.

“Come on, I just took three sips.”

“Mouth fulls don't count as sips.” Harry sighed behind.

“Alright, what's the deal here? Why do you have a problem with everything that I do these days?” Draco turned a frown at the brunette.

“What?” Harry raised his hands to his sides, looking extremely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You have a problem with my job, me not being around just because I'm busy, or even when I — ”

“I have a problem with your job because it's exhausting you. I can see that. And of course I want you around, you're my friend — ”

“I am not your friend.” Draco announced to shut Harry off.

“What?”

“I'm not your friend, Harry. Friends don't sleep with each other.” Draco shook his head, putting the bottle back on the mantle.

Draco breathed with his back turned to Harry again. It might not have looked like it, but some emergency alarm had blown off somewhere in his mind that built up a state of panic inside him, telling him that he had successfully messed everything up just because he had too much to drink. But he wasn't drunk yet. He wasn't even dizzy from all the alcohol he had had in the past few hours. And that's when he reminded himself the reason why he did not speak too much around him anymore.

“Let's put it like this, then.” Harry started with another sigh. “I want you around me.”

“Why?” Draco faced him.

“I don't know that yet.” Harry shook his head. “But let's keep it like that for now, can we?”

With his head bowed, Draco eyed the spot where the boxes had been piled up previously. Amongst the layer of dirty carpet, the portions of floor could barely be distinguished from them to trigger his fussy senses to the peak. And he looked away.