Harry walked into his house, not bothering to close the door. He walked into the center of his living room and simply stood there. He felt his legs burning, pleading to get his body's weight off of them, but Harry didn't sit down. He just didn't care. His brain was too overloaded with a sick feeling of emptiness to do more than simply be.
Suddenly, Harry felt a pair of arms locking themselves around him, catching him in some sort of weird body-lock. Harry struggles, kicking the air and trying to lift whoever had a hold of him into the air and throwing them off, but his body refused to get his adrenalin levels up again after earlier. The arms held onto him and didn't let go.
Harry shouted in agony, trying once again to free himself from the stranger's grip, but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a soft voice only too familiar now by his ear.
"You don't have to do this on your own anymore Harry. You don't have to always be strong."
Harry sagged in the arms that held him. Slowly, tears started to fill his eyes, blurring his vision, but he didn't let his emotions get the better of him. He couldn't, he had to be strong, he had to be-
"You can cry, Harry. You're just as human as anyone else."
Is he? Even after killing that teen – and yes, as cruel as sharp was, that's what he was. A teen- was he human? Could he still be even after-
No. Harry screamed in his head, closing his eyes shut.
The arms left him, replaced by hands cupping his face and lifting it upwards. Harry opened his eyes in shock as he felt a soft breath washing over his face. His glassy iced blue eyes locked quickly with the others soft and caring warm brown ones.
"Harry… cry."
And he did. Tears went pouring from his eyes, the face before him becoming a mush of colors. For a second a voice in his head shouted saying, it wasn't fair! That this boy had no right to come here and turn Harry's world upside-down! But the warmth of the hand on Harry's cheeks was too welcoming to resist, so for once, he didn't.
He wrapped his arms around Tom, fisting his sweater and buried his face where Tom's neck met his shoulder, breathing in his scent and let the tears fall down.
The two sank to the floor and simply sat there, Harry crying his heart out while Tom's hands rubbed his back, creating invisible circles, whispering words of comfort in a soothing voice.
Harry woke up to the sunlight of the early morning, his head was spinning and his neck ached from sleeping in an odd angle, but he was calm, and comfortable in his own skin, something he hadn't felt in a long while. The warmth that surrounded him felt so nice he never wanted to move from there he was. He snuggled closer to something warm that lay next to him, letting out a sleepy groan, feeling his hand moving up and down in a slow breathing-like rhythm that – -was. not. his. own.
In a matter of seconds Harry was at the other side of the room, perfectly awake, leaning on the wall for support, his breath coming in as fast as if he ran 100 miles.
After a few deep breaths Harry recalled all that happened the day before. After crying he fell asleep and Tom moved them to the bed, never leaving Harry's side.
Harry's eyes roamed over the sleeping figure lying on his bed, taking in the boy's perfect blond hair and his soft facial features. His nose was a bit crooked, his lips a sort pink, his eyes closed. He thought about how they looked wide open, the mesmerizing chocolate brown color that, when in the right light, had a small honey- nut touch to it. Hell Harry, you are such an idiotic closet romantic. That is in the closet, and we're no longer talking about your romantic tendencies and you know it.
Shut up, brain.
He looked at Tom's chest, where his hand was a few seconds ago, pushing Tom's shirt up.
Harry walked towards the bed, not letting his eyes off of the sleeping teen.
Hesitating, he reached out and moved the blond's hair to the side before tracing an invisible pattern from the boys forehead, to his cheek, to his lips, to his chin. Seeing as the boy didn't wake up at his touch, Harry let his hand find its way back to where it rested earlier on Tom's chest.
Harry pulled his hand back to fall by his side with a sign. He was falling for Tom, there was no doubt about that in his mind, despite how little they actually knew each other. He was falling for him, and he couldn't let it happen. He needed to leave, now, before it was too late. He already dragged Tom into a fight once, but never again. They barely got out alive, and there was no guaranteeing they could do it again, like there was no guarantee that no minion of Sharp's won't try to avenge him. He couldn't live with himself knowing Tom, Danny or Dougie could get hurt because of him.
He slowly turned, walking towards the door, leaving his cell phone and house keys on the stand, not bothering to take anything but his wallet and his coat which he placed on himself before reaching to the door knob.
He was just about to turn the handle when a hand caught his wrist. Harry jumped at his place, turning straight into brown eyes. Taking a step back he looked at Tom, who in return raised an eyebrow at him, "now where do you think you're going, exactly?"
"Umm…" Harry mumbled, speechless and taken aback.
"You have some explaining to do, young man!" Tom said taking a step closer, crowding Harry against the door with a finger poking at his chest.
"Excuse me?!" Harry said, dissolving into anger, "who do you think you are?! My fath-" Harry stopped mid-sentence. He looked down at his shoes and clenched his fists, biting his bottom lip.
"You've mentioned him before." Harry looked up at Tom, meeting worried eyes. "Your father". Tom said it so simply and yet it still sent a cold chill through Harry. "W-what do you mean?"
Tom signed, looking down, "at the arena – or whatever it was – before you… you know...You said 'not this time, dad'," Tom looked up then, seeing the surprise and sadness on the brunettes features.
Harry didn't say a word, but simply lowered his head and took Tom's hand into his, pulling the blond towards the stairs and up.
He really shouldn't do this, but there is just something about this stupid, annoying, ridiculously cute blond that he just can't resist.
They reached the upper floor, and then walked up another staircase that let them out to the roof though an old wooden door. The rooftop was like another floor but with no walls and no ceiling, only a small metal fence on a small platform of stoned structure around the edges. The sky outside was still a little red and pink from the sunrise, but only faintly. Harry stopped once they were outside, looking out at the view and trying to find the courage to open up.
"Harry?" Tom asked after a few minutes had passed. Harry sat down, followed by Tom who sat next to him silently. He took in a deep breath and it was like a spell had been broken.
"Ever since I was a little kid my Dad was my hero. He was the one I came to when I had a problem, when I got good grades in some silly test, when I had a question or just because I liked to see the pride on his face when I came to talk to him. I looked up to him more than anyone and he always let me have whatever I wanted."
Harry talked, still looking at the view, as Tom listened, not moving a muscle in case the movement would make Harry do back on his decision to tell Tom his story.
"But…" Harry continued, "It all changed one day, a few years ago…"
