Title: Defense Mechanism
Author: Skt23
Summary: He just wants to act like everyone else: living for instant gratification, making mistakes, saying sorry, and moving on.
A/N: Yes, I am well-aware that this is short. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed any of my stories, it's really sweet and I appreciate your kind words and support (although I really wish I could respond to them individually- grrr, this is why I am all about livejournal. But that's neither here nor there, so I'm gonna shut up and let you read the story now).
Harry has been through a lot in his life, and in all honesty, sometimes he just wants what he wants.
He doesn't want to think ahead, or contemplate the outcomes, or wonder what the consequences of each and every action he has will be. It's too much, and he's too young. He doesn't think he'll ever be old enough to accept it.
And he'll never want it.
He just wants to act like everyone else: living for instant gratification, making mistakes, saying sorry, and moving on. There's no blood on their hands for the mistakes that they've made, even when they've deliberately done things wrong. Even when he's right people seem to die. It just doesn't seem fair to him.
Which is probably why, when the opportunity presents itself, he practically jumps at it. It's his turn, and he's not going to sit around and watch other people take it away while he contemplates whether or not it's a good decision.
In the back of his mind though, he's not expecting it to last - because things never last long, not where he's involved. He saw a muggle television show a few years ago, where a doctor was telling the boy that he pushed people away because he was afraid they would leave him. The doctor said it was a 'defense mechanism'. Harry thinks he has one of those too. It always bothered him though, because the doctor never said how to fix it.
But then, Harry doubts he could be fixed anyways. He's become somewhat accepting of his own abnormalities, mostly because he has no ideas on how to fix them himself. And, really, they define who he is. Without them he's just a vessel, or a tool. Something to be used up and thrown aside, another savior who can spare the world and then disappear, so no one has to feel indebted to him for anything. His oddities make him a real person, and he finds himself clinging to them.
He also finds himself clinging to a warm body. Any warm body. They're bad decisions, each and every one of them, but that's the genius of it. Not knowing their names, where they come from or what they do, it's all part of the pleasure of it - anonymity at it's best. For once he's not the one being used, he's the one using. It's control.
The control is addictive, and in its own way, reassuring. It's nice to know he can control something, even if it is only his dick. But apparently even that is in a stage of revolt, because it starts to look at the one person Harry will never have. Not that he doesn't want to, because he does. More than anyone else, and over time, more than anything at all. But he won't let himself, won't make that bad decision.
With everything else, the losses were acceptable. They may involve bad feelings, guilt and angry words, humiliation and walks of shame, but none of those are new to Harry. He can deal with those with hardly a second thought, closer to second nature. But this, this would involve losses greater than he could stand.
So when Ron swoops down, one oddly cliched dark and stormy night, and presses his lips against Harry's just as the lightning strikes, Harry turns and runs. Despite the fact that his entire body, his very soul, is screaming to turn around, he runs.
He mentally curses and rails at himself, fighting a losing battle, without knowing which side is winning. Whatever he does, some part of him will be upset, saddened by the loss. It's either the loss of control and the illusion of freedom - or it's the loss of Ron. He's mostly afraid that he'll go back and lose Ron anyway. There are only so many good things in his life, and most of them are connected to Ron in some way. He's not sure what he'd do with himself should he lose that connection.
Addiction wins out, and going back is the easiest thing he's ever had to do. It's also the hardest, and he can barely stand the fear and pain that shoots through his veins as he sits down beside Ron, soaking his couch, still drenched from the rain that continues to pour. He can't look Ron in the eye, unwilling to show weakness, even to him.
When Ron's hand closes around his own, Harry squeezes back.
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