Sorry I've been slow in continuing. Sorry this is still going. Stumbling toward the end now.
Harry sighed as he ended the call. With everything that'd happened he'd forgotten about Barley. Toby probably had too, he was that obsessed with Sasha. He'd texted Harry when Sasha had agreed they were officially a couple. He'd texted Harry when he'd been invited to move in with Sasha and her younger sisters. He'd texted Harry when he told Sasha he loved her and she hadn't said it back but was definitely thinking about it. He'd texted that morning to inform him, all in caps, that Sasha 'LUVS ME M8! LK 4 REAL! :D' and Harry hoped that Toby was in a good enough place that he wouldn't let Nathan bully him. Sasha would set the prat straight if he did try anything on but Harry silently hoped that Nathan would just fade away and leave them all alone.
Claire was venting her frustration about all things Barley in the kitchen but instead of disputing it or telling her to quiet down her mum was agreeing whole heartedly. It was nice to hear them talking about (or rather, yelling about) something they shared the same opinion on, rather than just arguing. Claire was determined to go back to London at the end of the week, even though Harry wasn't starting at his new job until the end of the month, and refused to change her plans. It was causing tension to say the least.
He knew she was still scared. She wouldn't admit to it, but she'd talked and cried for two hours solid the night after Dan wrote her that letter, because being told she was forgiven wasn't something she was used to, it was like being told she was loved, Claire knew she was supposed to assume it, but she didn't actually hear it enough to really believe it, and that made Harry sad.
It had probably been a bit soon for him to tell Claire, 'I love you', it wasn't something Harry'd ever said to anyone other than his parents and his nan, but she'd needed to hear it. She'd been crying and raging about how oppressive it felt to be back in Leeds and how she wasn't sure how she was supposed to talk to Dan now, what with the letter and all, or how she was supposed to have a heart to heart with Jones when they still weren't really friends, and she'd been so disgusted at herself at not being able to handle her emotions, that Harry'd had to kiss her.
And when he said he loved her she'd done exactly what he thought she'd do, which was glare at him as if he'd made a really sexist joke, and then scoff in a way that was supposed to dismiss it. So Harry'd said it again, and again, and again, until Claire had laughed and hit him with a pillow until he'd fallen back against the mattress and she could straddle his waist and kiss him into submission. Harry loved it when she did that.
And after they'd had sex he told her again. And she'd smiled at him with her head down and her hair over her face, and her eyes creased around the edges from worry, and her hands hiding her breasts, and Harry decided he needed to tell her every single day until she believed it. He didn't even mind that she hadn't said it back, he just wanted her to see how easy to love she was, even when she was scary and shouty, or biting his shoulder as she orgasmed, or crying, or scared, or grumpy first thing in the morning.
And one day, hopefully, he'd be able to send Toby a giddy text all in caps, but that wasn't really the point. He loved Claire Ashcroft and he wanted her to know it.
He checked the time - he had to leave in ten minutes to pick up Dan - and jumped when he looked up and saw Jones in the doorway.
"Sorry," Jones said, grinning apologetically as he walked carefully over to an armchair and sat down.
"S'fine," Harry replied. "I was just checking on the time. I need to pick up Dan."
Jones nodded and chewed on his lip. They'd never talked much, even when Jones was sleeping on his sofa, but their silences weren't generally uncomfortable ones.
"Look, Harry," Jones spoke quickly, his eyes fixed on the bolt of his leg brace. "Thanks for all your help with Dan and me. And everything. It's been really... helpful."
Harry shrugged.
"That's alright. We're friends and... at least I think we're..."
"Yeah," Jones nodded. "We're friends. You've just been pretty fuckin' amazing through all this, you know? And with Claire as well. Claire's a lucky girl."
Harry felt himself blush and looked down at his phone. It had only been two minutes since he last checked but he needed something to do. Jones was still a massive flirt by nature and Harry knew he was sitting there with a cheeky grin, probably mostly unaware of the effect he had on just about everyone around him.
"Dan's lucky too," he said softly, and Jones' breathy laugh made him blush even more.
"Yeah, those Ashcrofts are damn lucky to have us."
Harry looked up and saw that Jones was red in the face too, smiling wide like he just couldn't contain it, and still looking down at his leg. Even when things had been really bad Jones had found ways to cheer himself up - sounds and colours and strange ideas - and Harry wished sometimes that he could experience the world like Jones did. But probably only for a day or so because Jones' sensory processing experience had always seemed fairly extreme and Harry wasn't sure it would always be pleasant, even if Jones seemed to enjoy it. Claire seemed to think Jones was a bit simple because he got distracted by tin foil and traffic noise, but Harry didn't think so. He'd known Jones a long time and even if Jones played loud and strange music, he could also build speakers and circuits from scraps and had helped Harry make a workable PC out of three broken laptops when they were teenagers. He just needed Claire and Jones to see each other for what was actually there.
"Speaking of Ashcrofts," Harry said, trying to segue smoothly even though Jones was smirking at him and shaking his head. "While I'm picking up Dan..."
He watched the smile drop from Jones' face to be replaced by a scowl. Jones hadn't been happy about Dan's decision to go to the hospital alone, and that Jones wasn't allowed to come and pick him up. He'd made himself clear through grumbles and an only half-audible rant that Jones needed to rest up and shouldn't be going on outings. They were heading to Hornsea in three days, a week earlier than planned so that Harry and Claire would still be around to help, and Dan didn't want Jones overdoing things.
He knew Jones was probably stuck between blaming Claire and blaming himself for Dan's protectiveness. He'd seen Jones blame himself for a burst pipe in the bathroom simply because he'd been the last person to take a shower, and he'd seen Jones blame himself for Harry having to move back in with his parents, sure that it was his bad luck infecting Harry by association. Jones probably hadn't been told he was loved enough either, (even though he'd overheard Dan say it to him several times while they'd all been staying together) and he thought that maybe that was why Claire and Jones didn't really get along. Neither of them believed in themselves and were automatically on the defensive with each other out of fear that they were being judged.
Harry frowned. That was a bit deep.
"While I'm picking up Dan... Claire would like to talk to you."
Jones looked up nervously, like he was going to be told off, and his hand automatically went to his discman, even though he had his music low enough that Harry could barely hear the noise coming from the headphones around his mate's neck. Claire had spent a great deal of time yelling at Jones to shut off his noise while she was living with him and Harry could understand Jones' worry. No one liked being yelled at by an angry Claire, even if Jones did a good job of pretending he didn't mind.
"She wants to say sorry, I think," Harry told him reassuringly. "But she's rubbish at apologising."
"Yeah, I'd noticed that."
"Well... she's scared."
Jones nodded. He didn't need as many words as Claire did, he mostly understood people's meaning by the way they said things, and Harry knew they'd be fine. As long as they actually talked together without being interrupted.
"I've got to go," he said, standing and looking around vaguely for the keys to the BMW Claire's dad had given him the night before. It was an old model but had been lovingly cared for and Harry knew it was a big deal that he was allowed to drive it to take Dan too and from the hospital. Claire had informed him that even Dan had never been given permission to drive it and Harry was nervous and sweating as he'd backed it out of the drive way that morning, until Dan told him about the time Claire managed to back it into the bins and scratch off a decent amount of paint when she was nineteen and cocky.
He spotted the keys on the sideboard near Jones' armchair but when he reached out for them Jones grabbed his wrist, looking up at him with large, earnest and rather glassy eyes.
"Bring him home safe, alright?"
Harry nodded but Jones didn't let go.
"Of course."
"And thanks, Harry. Really. Thank you."
Jones released his wrist and lifted his headphones up to his ears, wrapping his arms around himself and snuggling back into the arm chair as much as he could manage and Harry hoped he'd be ok. Jones deserved a break, the good sort, not just broken bones. He hoped he could get it.