Harry Lockhart is a fuckhead. I swear, does he KNOW how big of a fucking idiot he can be? The most obvious things could be right in front of his fucking face, with him staring right at it, and he'd be focused on what kind of fucking animal the clouds are shaped like at that particular time.
I . . . I fucking LOVE him.
I don't even remember why I agreed to let him move in. If you've never met the guy, consider yourself lucky. Scratch that - he's fucking adorable when he's drunk. Just don't tell him I said that.
Anyway.
Fuckhead and Harmony are all lovey-dovey around me. If I told Harry how I felt, he'd just laugh. It's not as if I'm stalker-ishly jealous, but it's SICKENING. They usually look like their goal is to suck all of the skin oil out of each other's pores. Harry's remarks are starting to get a little un-fucking-neccessary.
That brings me back to our stakeout today. He points at my lap, where my tiny stake-out camera is stealthily hidden.
"What's that?"
"A CAMERA, dumbass." I'm starting to wonder how bad his eyesight is.
"Oh. When I was younger, I had a camera like that, and I would take it outside and take pictures of the flowers, and then I would take the camera, it was disposable, of course, to Walmart for their one-hour photo thingy, and then I'd take it back home, and . . . "
There he goes with the rambling again. I wonder what goes on in that pea-sized fuckhead brain of his. I've learned to tune him out. Suddenly, I see our target: the fucked up elementary school principal/pedophile, leaving, funnily enough, from Walmart's time efficient photo service. I wonder what that bastard took pictures of. Seriously, though; ask Harry, it'd take him a while.
"Harry! There! Look! It's him!"
"Who? Wait, who are we looking for? Wasn't it that demented pharmacist?"
"Yes; the one who got high off of the pills he handled and then went across the street to the zoo and smuggled a zebra into his garage because it reminded him of his mother-in-law."
"Wow, really?"
"No. Idiot." Is that a blush? Is he embarrassed? Well, I'd feel for the poor idiot, but he fucking needs to learn. I drive slowly, my eye on the target, and Harry is STILL talking.
"gasp Perry! Would you come to a concert with us? We have tickets for some band Harmony likes, I forgot what it's called . . . some weird alternative band . . ." Great. He's digging through MY glove compartment for some concert tickets or other shit he might've hid there. Probably stole them. What the fuck? He needs to fucking get a car. But, anyway, a concert? With Harry and Harmony? Uhm . . .
"Harry, are you on drugs? Why the fuck would you think I'd want to go to a concert with you and your GIRLFRIEND? Whenever you're around me with her, you're all over each other anyway."
" . . . well . . . I thought it might be fun, because we're friends, and I wanted to include you . . ." He looks down at his new sneakers that I'm wondering if he stole, and then back up at me wtih his GOD-DAMN irresistible puppy-dog eyes. If he only knew . . .
"Harry, let me get this past you. We are barely friends. I let you live with me because it'd be cruel to leave you homeless, and if it weren't for me, as well, you'd be jobless, and I take you on stake-outs with me because I consider you my lucky charm, considering how you helped me last Christmas. That does not make us good friends."
He's been quiet since we got home. I'm starting to wonder if I went too far with my, hah, "cynical" remarks, as he enjoys calling them. Harry's going to pick up Harmony in a bit for that stupid-ass concert - Yes! I'll have the place all to myself . . . I should probably take a nap. I've been feeling a little grumpy lately.
-- 2 hours later --
The door slams, so I open my eyes and listen for Harry - Yes. The familiar slam of his keys on the counter reassures me, so I sit up. I sleep with my Derringer just in case. But wait - the slam of his keys seemed a little too hard tonight.
"Harry?" I get up and stagger towards my closet. The sweat from my legs sticks to my silk boxers, and that's not very attractive. You movie-goers wouldn't know. Just making sure the crazy fan-girls don't think that's too sexy. Anyway, I grab my robe, tie it around my waist, and wander sleepily into the kitchen.
"Hey. How was the concert?"
"sigh Alright, I guess. The seats were bad and everyone was stoned. Harmony's arm-rest, and yeah, isn't that funny? They had arm-rests at a fucking rock concert. Anyway, her arm-rest separated us the whole time, and since we were tired out from actually GETTING there, we sat the whole time. I'd try to lean over and kiss her, but she didn't seem to notice."
"That's . . . different. And sort of relieving."
"What? How?"
"Well, for starters, whenever you two are within my sight, you're doing everything but fucking. You seriously disgust me with your public displays of affection in my home or, funnily, in PUBLIC."
"Perry, what's your problem? We were dating! We were ALLOWED to kiss in front of people. It's not a crime." Wait. They WERE dating? Whatever. Looks like another argument I should win.
"Well, Harry, sometimes it's hard to tell when you're nearly fucking RAPING EACH OTHER ON MY COUCH. You COULD go to HER place once in a while, you know."
I'm getting heated up. He's really starting to annoy me now. Can he not see my point?
"Perry! Calm down! Why are you freaking out about this? Does it bother you? What's WRONG with you??"
I sigh and look him square in the eye. He needs a fucking lesson taught tonight.
"YES, HARRY, it fucking bothers me. It bothers me that no matter how hard I try to tell you how I feel, I'm always afraid of what you'll say of it later. It bothers me how happy you and Harmony look together, and how I can never share the same emotions as her. It bothers me that whenever I feel like bracing myself and confronting you, something that Harmony says or does makes you happier than ever, and my hopes are crushed. It bothers me that -"
Okay, that was incredibly gay.
"Perry, what are you trying to say? BE LESS FUCKING OBSCURE!"
A tear runs down my cheek in anger and embarrassement.
"LESS OBSCURE? HARRY, I'VE PRACTICALLY SPELLED IT OUT FOR YOU! I FUCKING LOVE YOU! I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT, HARRY! I WANT YOU, and I NEED you, and every time I want to tell you, I can't, and . . . " By now I was full-out crying, my face wet with tears. Harry's mouth hangs open in shock. Fucking idiot. "W-wh . . . I . . . Perry . . . I . . . "
I sob into my arm like a little girl. This is the worst night of my life. Humiliated and degraded in front of the person I love, and my whole image is completely shattered.
" . . . and now you and Harmony are practically married, and the happiest you've ever been, and you're fucking STRAIGHT, so I have NO CHANCE with you, and Harmony . . . "
He cuts me off by stepping closer to me.
"Perry . . . Harmony broke up with me tonight." Ah-HAH.
Now, it's his turn for that single fucking soap opera tear to roll down his perfect cheek. He looks up at my tear-stained face, and I can see his face contort. He's in pain because of MY pain! He has EMOTIONS! I'm still overly fucking humiliated by my OWN display of emotions in front of him. I'm shaking at this point. Harry leads me to the couch and sits down next to me.
Without warning, he wraps his arm around my neck and, all of a sudden, my teary, wet lips are ambushed by Harry's perfect ones. My mood went immediately from pitiful, to . . . did he just fucking KISS me? Just as soon as it started, Harry's sloppy, wet, teary kiss was over, and he was talking again. Go-fucking-figure.
"Perry, it's not that I haven't noticed. I wasn't sure of what to make of those . . . those vibes? Can I say vibes? Okay . . . fuck, Perry, I was scared of what would happen to Harmony and me if I acted on MY feelings for YOU. I was afraid you wouldn't believe me, because I would act so fucking straight. Perry, remember that time you kissed me when the cops were watching us stuff Veronica Dexter's body into your car? Remember how much I over-reacted after that, spitting, wiping, etc.? I did that because I was afraid you thought I liked it. I've always cared about what you thought of me, and that scared me."
This is relevant to my interests . . . hmm . . . wait, what the fuck did he just say? I think my crying just stopped. He oozes gayness more than my shoes do. Wait, what the fuck? The homophobe, oozing gayness? That'll explain alot . . .
"Harry, what are you SAYING? How much did you drink before you got home? Harry, you're fucking straight. Don't say this just to make me feel better. It's not worth it."
He looks at me seriously. One of his hands goes to my face and wipes the tears that I hadn't gotten yet.
"Perry. I'm not saying this just to make you feel better. I do hope it DOES make you feel better, though. I'm completely sober, Perry, and I love you, too."
I could see this coming, but yet, my head is still spinning. I can't see straight - wait - wait- there, that's better. Wait; he's still here! Why isn't he leaving? Freaking out? I rub my temples in mental anguish. I look at Harry again. He's still watching me. There's something in his eyes, like he cares. He takes my hand and rests it on his leg.
He sneaks in to close gap between our mouths again before I can see what's coming. This time, his kiss is full of want. Harry's tongue tells me so. He breaks it, as if that were just to show that he meant it. Well, by now, I'm fucking convinced. The proof's between my legs. Harry strokes this very proof, stares at me, and says, "I think you believe me now."
That does it for me. I admit, I can be a little forceful when excited. I push Harry down on the couch and pin his wrists to the fabric with my hands. By now, I'm sitting on his lap, and he looks up at me with that goofy-ass grin of his. Fuck; when I said he was fucking adorable when he's drunk before, I meant to say he was fucking adorable all the time.
I kissed him so hard, I felt the couch under us dig into the carpet another inch or so. His tongue proves he wants this again, and I moan with desire into the kiss. Harry pushes me off of him and rolls on top of me, un-doing my robe. He grins at my bare chest and maroon, silk boxers. "Maroon? Dude." He pulls them down and literally fucking gapes. I mean, sure, I'm a little bigger than average, but what was this compared to him? I start to get a bit worried . . . until he leans over me and I feel HIS proof pressing into my leg. He licks up my 8 inches and I shiver with pleasure. "Oh, Harry, when did you l - "
"Shut it, Perry, I'm BUSY down here." Oh. Well. Actually, his mocking, aggressive voice was turning me on even more. I can't take much more of his . . . business. He knows this, and he moves faster and more aggressively until my whole body tenses up and I groan his name. What I found interesting was that he swallowed. I'd expected him to freak out instead, but, no, he goes all the way. I snicker. This could prove useful . . .
"Perry?" The seriousness of Harry's tone scares me. I'm afraid he's gonna run away, or hurt me again. I acknowledge him with my eyebrows and he continues.
"Will you ever leave me?"
I remember the trauma he'd gone through earlier in the night and I look into his sad puppy eyes. I'm thinking we should fix his "proof" next . . . I run my hand up his thigh and in between his still clothed legs and he gasps.
"No, Harry. I will never leave you. I want to spend my life with you. I will NEVER leave you."
"Really?"
Wait for it . . .
"Yes. Fuckhead."