Work Text:
It was a nice day.
Their first Saturday off in ages. No pressing cases, no interviews, no inspections. An actual, full 2 day weekend, together. Something they were beginning to think didn’t exist anymore.
The day started out nice enough. Harry even cooked up a full breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausage, potatoes. The works. They wrapped up errands, did a long overdue cleaning of Kim’s apartment, and threw in a few loads of laundry.
The plans for the night were set. Dinner and dancing at the discotheque. One of the few left. A long, hard battle that Harry finally won. As they awaited the evening to start, they were enjoying a twilight stroll on the riverfront.
The night was brisk, with the last remnants of winter overtaken by spring green and fresh buds. The grass in the park was still warm from the day, creating a buffer from the leftover chilly nights. Despite the film of oil shimmering across the water with occasional bright yellow frittte bags floating by, the orange glow of the sunset behind the skyline reflecting off the rainbow slick made it all so romantic.
Kim stops to stand against the rails, looking down at the water, his orange bomber jacket matching the light bouncing off the water, the skyline framing his lithe frame. It’s like looking at a painting.
Lost in the moment, Harry moves in, wrapping an arm around Kim’s waist.
“Harry,” Kim scolds in a harsh whisper, forcefully pushing him off and distancing himself a few steps away.
“Come on, Kim, it’s so beautiful out.” Harry tries to move closer but Kim backs away further.
“Stop it, Harry,” Kim says through gritted teeth, eyes darting around to see if anyone’s watching.
Most people are minding their own business. A lot of couples, the normal ones, get to enjoy their spring evening together. One of the first, nice weeks of weather, where the sun shines longer but isn’t blisteringly hot yet and the evening has a gentle, cool breeze. Perfect weather for tossing your coat over your underdressed lover and kissing them under the twinkling stars.
“I could kiss you right now. Don’t you want to kiss me? Right here, on the edge of the water?”
“No.” Kim says sternly, walking ahead now.
“No?” Harry hangs back, cocking his head pitifully.
Kim ignores him and keeps moving, trying to reset their location away from potential witnesses.
Harry jogs to catch up. “You don’t want to kiss me? At all?”
“No. Not here.”
“Then where?”
Kim glares back at him, continuing forward. “Stop,” his frustration mounting. Harry knows better.
But Harry doesn’t care. He’d shout his love to Kim on the rooftops of every skyscraper in Revachol. He’d buy an air banner. A billboard. He’d print it on the first page of every newspaper. Kim says he doesn’t want that. But Harry doesn’t believe him. Years of repression and oppression combine to muddy what you think you want and don’t want and bury what you need even further.
Harry knows this because in private and select locations, Kim loves to be doted on. The first time Harry heard Kim giggle from being smothered with kisses sent him into a frenzy. Any opportunity he gets to surprise Kim with a smattering of cuddling and ticklish pecks, he jumps at, the warmth in his body spreading as Kim laughs and melts lovingly into Harry’s arms. It’s the best feeling in the world. He thinks, for the both of them.
Kim is still walking ahead when Harry rushes up from behind, twirls him around, grabs his face, and kisses him.
Kim’s eyes shoot open and he slams Harry away. “Harry!” He screeches. His voice is so high pitched and shrill it surprises the both of them. His ears burn as they turn red, but Harry can read the signs. That’s not blushing. Kim pants heavily, distraught and stunned, glaring at Harry with some kind of betrayed, angry frown.
“Kim, I –”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I just –”
“No! No excuses. You know how I feel about this, yet you still chose to do that,” he tries to lower his tone as a few passer bys eye them warily.
“Yeah, but at home –”
“Harry, if I hear another just or but from you,” he ends his sentence, but his meaning is clear.
Harry pauses, trying to formulate a sentence without it sounding like an excuse, his mouth opening and closing as he tosses out the various options presented to him.
Kim’s face is taut, but he waits, providing Harry the opportunity to set things right.
“I’m sorry,” he tries to smooth over. “I thought you’d like it. You like it at home.”
“Are we at home?” Kim snaps.
“No, but –”
“Ah,” Kim tuts, bringing up a finger in warning. “I made myself clear when I said no, and you disrespected me.”
“I love you, Kim. It’s how I show I love you. I’m not trying to disrespect you.”
“No, Harry. If you loved me, you’d respect my wishes when I say not to do these things in public.”
“So you’re saying I don’t love you?”
Kim purses his lips. “Don’t change the topic, Harry,” he squints.
“What are you so afraid of? Who cares?”
“I care, Harry. And that should be enough for you.”
“You’re letting society dictate what you can and can’t have, Kim. I know you like it, why can’t you let yourself have it.”
“Don’t,” Kim shakes his head slowly, “bring in any of that bullshit, Harry.”
He pauses as a small family walks by. A mother and father each holding their toddler by the hand, swinging him up and down as he giggles uncontrollably. He steps to the side against the railing and Harry follows suit, watching and waiting for the family to be out of reach.
Kim turns back to Harry. “This has nothing to do with society and communism and whatever else you want to blame it on and everything to do with you blocking out whatever you don’t like purely because you want to do what you want to do, regardless of everyone else.”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about communism.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s the same either way. You do this all the time.”
“Do what?” Harry feels the palms of his hands start to tingle and he rotates his wrist to shake off the feeling.
“You’re a perceptive man, Harry. I’ve watched you break down the walls of the most stone-faced perpetrators. Yet, when it comes to us, I’m supposed to believe you can’t read the room all of a sudden? I know you know what you did. Don’t try to play it off as naivety. Don’t play me for a fool.”
“I’m not. I really thought –”
“There’s no way in hell you thought that, Harry. This is something we’ve talked about regularly. I’ve made myself clear. I’ve stated it plainly. Any act against it is you being deliberate.”
“You make me sound so evil. Like, I’m just trying to give you some affection, Kim,” Harry says exasperatedly, as if Kim is being ridiculous.
“Don’t downplay this. Don’t downplay my concerns.”
“I’m not. Shit, Kim.”
“You are, Harry. You are literally doing that to my face, right now.”
“So what then? How’s dinner going to work? Two men at a romantic restaurant. Should I find my best business suit and we can pull it off as a work meeting? What about the dancing? Should I find us each a woman to dance with next to each other instead?”
Kim breathes in heavily. “I’m so sick of this.”
“Sick of what? Me?”
“Your behavior.”
“Well, that’s me.”
“I don’t think it’s too much to ask you to apologize.”
“I did.”
“That wasn’t an apology, Harry.”
“Fine. I’m sorry. I’ll never kiss you again, I guess.”
Kim’s shoulders slump. He’s exhausted. “We’re not the same person, Harry. You need to stop projecting what you want and expect out of this relationship and meet me where I’m at.”
“Why is it always on me? Why don’t you meet me where I’m at?”
Kim sighs. “Ok, fine. Do you have something you’d like to bring up?”
Harry draws up a blank. The red before him makes it hard to see his thoughts. It’s him. It’s always him, isn’t it? What else could it be?
Harry pierces Kim with his eyes. “No. You’re perfect,” he says bitterly. “I’ll just leave you alone.” Harry turns around and storms off in the opposite direction.
“Harry,” Kim calls, but Harry ignores him.
Kim runs up to him and grabs him by the arm. “Hey, you can't just run off every time you're pissed off, Harry.”
“Well, you clearly don't want to be seen with me. I thought I’d do you a favor.”
“I'm not going to tolerate this behavior, Harry. It's not going to work out between us if you're going to consistently rage and storm off just because I call you out on something.”
“So what,” Harry spins around, “are you saying we're done?”
“Is that what I said?” Kim raises his eyebrows.
“Sounds like it.”
“Sounds like that's what you wanted to hear. Again. Is that what you want, Harry? You want us to be done?”
Harry sucks at his teeth.
“Because we can be done if that's what you want. I don't want to waste my time with someone who's hell bent on not putting the effort needed into this relationship.”
Harry is so taken aback that he flinches as his heart skips a beat. “You'd just end this that easily?”
“You're putting words in my mouth again.”
“You're giving me an ultimatum, and I dont like ultimatums.”
“It's not an ultimatum, Harry, I'm simply asking for a mature, adult resolution to our issues. I want to feel like you hear me and you respect me.”
“Yeah, well, mature adult isn’t exactly what I’m known for.”
“That's bullshit, Harry. That's a bullshit excuse.”
Harry stares off. “Seems like you're ready to be done.”
“I didn't bring that up, Harry, you did.”
“You said things won't work out.”
“God, Harry, why do you always twist what I say? You hear only what you want to hear. I'm here now, I'm asking you to work this out with me, and you seem set on giving up.”
“And you told me to just end it.”
“I'm simply calling it like I see it. It seems like you want to just end it.”
“You don't even care about me. You don’t want to be seen with me. You don’t want people to know we’re together.”
“How can you say that? I'm here with you now, aren't I?”
“Yeah, but you were ready to end this at a drop of a hat.”
“That's not what I want. I'm giving you a choice, Harry. What do you want?”
Harry shrugs.
“You don’t know what you want?” Kim glances around, mind racing, his eyes growing wearier by the second. “I don't want to fight out here anymore. Let's just go home,” he resigns.
“Fine.”
Kim speeds up ahead and Harry stays behind. Every once in a while Kim stops and turns around to stare threateningly at Harry to speed up.
“What are you doing?” Kim huffs. “Come on.”
“I figured you didn't want to be seen with me.”
Kim rolls his eyes. “Fine, do what you want.”
When they get back to the apartment Kim stops at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Harry. Harry gets closer and Kim starts heading up. When he gets to the door he sees Harry standing at the bottom, looking morosely up at him, like a deflated puppy.
“Come on, Harry.”
Harry shakes his head.
Kim sighs in annoyance and glares at him, but Harry doesn't move. He finally stomps down the stairs, standing a few steps above him.
“Harry.”
“I think I'm gonna go home.”
Kim shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Harry, come on. Let's go inside and talk. We can still go to dinner after.”
“I don't want to talk.”
“This isn’t exactly fun for me either. But we need to talk.”
“I don't feel like hearing about everything wrong with me.”
Kims shoulders sink a bit, in both pity and defeat. “I wasn't going to do that.”
“Yeah right. It's what always happens.”
Kim doesn't say anything.
“I'm gonna go.”
“Why, Harry? This is exactly what I was talking about. Running off again.”
“See, it already started,” Harry waves his hand. “I'm leaving.”
Kim shakes his head. “Stop it, Harry. I'm not up for these dramatics.”
“They're not dramatics.”
“What do you want from me? You want me to beg you to stay? To chase you down as you leave?”
“No…” Harry mutters. Though he kind of does want that. Imagine someone waving a flag down a parade about how much they loved him. About how Harry was all theirs. Never in a million years would someone love him like that. But he can love like that. So why wouldn’t anyone else want that, too?
“It always feels like you're testing me. Like you want to see how much I love you based on what kind of theatrics I'll pull for you.”
“No, that's – that's not it,” Harry says, unconvincingly.
“I'm not up for those kinds of games, Harry. We're too old for that. I'm with you, aren't I? Do I really need to prove my love to you by tailing you in a taxi chase across Revachol?”
Harry turns away. “Ok. I get it, Kim.”
“I want to work things out with you. I'm asking you to work things out with me. Right now. Upstairs.” He nods up to the door.
“I don't want to.”
Kim purses his lips. “You don’t want to?” he asks flatly.
“No.”
“Ok.” Kim is stoic, which means he’s livid. Harry knows he went too far and has to take something back.
“Tomorrow. We can talk tomorrow. I – I need some space.”
“You don’t need to leave, Harry. We can still talk tomorrow.”
“And what, just sit up there in silence?”
“I’m willing to move past it for now, as long as we address it soon.”
“Nah, sounds like a pain,” Harry brushes off. “I’m just gonna go.”
Kim contemplates Harry, but stays quiet. Nothing’s going to get through to him at this point so why bother.
Harry avoids Kim’s eyes, looking down at his feet on the pavement. He keeps waiting to see Kim’s boots lower down the stairs, or a touch on his shoulder, or maybe a chin nudge to get him to meet Kim’s face, but nothing happens. Kim doesn’t care if he leaves.
Harry sniffles and starts to back up to leave.
“Do I need to worry about you?” Kim butts in before he can dash off.
Harry looks up and stares him down. “You don't have to worry about me ever, Kim. That's not your prerogative.”
Kims brows furrow at the implication, but he doesn’t waver, raising his chin in a move of authority. He expects an answer.
“Don't worry,” Harry rolls his eyes. “I'll be alive tomorrow. I swear,” he says with vitriol.
“Fine, Harry. Tomorrow.” Kim’s tone is overflowing with disappointment.
They need to shift out of the way as someone walks up the stairs. Harry takes it as his cue to leave, fishing a cigarette out of his coat pocket and lighting it as he walks away. Kim watches him, half waiting for him to turn around and half debating whether he really should run after him, but he's worn out. He can’t reason with the unreasonable.
Harry is set. He doesn’t turn around because he knows he'll fold if he sees Kim watching him. He's making a point. What point, he's not sure, yet. It's really what Kim said all along. Harry’s testing Kim. Except he's somehow failing instead.
He chain smokes 6 cigarettes on his way home. When he gets to his apartment, he notices a layer of dust. He's been pretty exclusively staying at Kim’s for months now. Only coming in to get random clothes and necessities. He even slowly started bringing in some of his own books and decor while Kim reorganized the bookshelf to make room for Harry’s things. But when he brings up moving in, Kim adamantly refuses consistently. Their break-up potential must seem high to him.
He looks in the fridge. There's milk that's probably been in there for over a month. Half a loaf of bread. Some sauces. A bruised apple. An opened package of sausages that feels slimy to the touch.
In the cupboards are some canned goods. Soup’s probably the best he'll get for any kind of dinner tonight. He heats it up and sits on the couch to eat it. He slurps it down and is thoroughly unsatisfied. Soggy noodles and watered down broth don’t exactly satiate a man of his size.
He looks around. There’s barely anything. He’s beginning to regret bringing his stuff over to Kim’s. What’s he supposed to do on nights like this? Why move in with someone who doesn’t want you to move in?
He reaches over to grab the remote, its buttons caked with dust. He looks at the tv and can see the screen covered in a film of fuzz. Come to think of it, his place wasn't exactly much different even before Kim. Or even before his memory loss. He never liked being home. An empty reminder of how alone he was. So he just…never went home. But now that he’s here, what exactly did he do to pass the time when he was home?
…He knows what he did. And he's been fighting the itch since he stepped into the door. Luckily his place is clean, but he can always leave. Just like he used to. Just like he still does.
That’ll definitely fuck things up. As if he already didn’t fuck things up today. But Kim gave him a choice. And he dutifully made the wrong one. He can still make the right one, though, can't he? Or maybe it's too late…
Maybe he should call?
One ring, two-
No, nevermind. What would he even say? Sorry for being himself? Kim would hate that. Dora hated that, too. This is his MO, isnt it? Do fucked up shit. Bitch her out then disappear, only to show up at her doorstep at 3am, drunk, and pathetic, trying to twist things into how he’s just a sad fuck. The last part is true, but does it dictate the first? He used to think so, but that’s why he’s here now, isn’t it?
Except he's not drunk this time. And he is sorry. He shouldn't have left like that. But is that good enough? Kim’s so upset with him. He really let him down. How do you fix that? No. How do you prevent that?
He doesn't know what to do with his temper sometimes. Or his sadness. It's just – it's so much. If he can't even take it, how can someone else?
God, he's so lonely.
His eyes wander to the door. He could leave.
He picks up the phone again.
One ring, two rings, th-
No. Not like this. What is he looking for? Reassurance? Someone to stop him? He has a lot of nerve thinking of asking anything from Kim after that. But god, he misses him. He can't lose him.
Brriiiiiing…..bbrrriiiiiinnng…
Fuck. It's Kim.
Brriiiiiing…..bbrrriiiiiinnng…
He hovers his hand over it.
Brriiiiiing…..bbrrriiiiiinnng…
He takes his hand back. No. No. He's not ready. He’ll only make things worse somehow. He just – he needs to sort his thoughts first.
Brriiiiiing…..bbrrriiiiiinnng…
It should go to the answering machine soon.
He hears the slight muffle of the phone rubbing against something, then it hangs up.
Oh…
He must be really fed up. Kim goes quiet when he's too angry to talk. When he thinks it doesn't matter what he says. When he knows Harry won't listen.
Maybe he should call Jean.
No, that would piss everyone off.
He gets up and starts to pace. Why did he leave like that? Why is he so fucking dumb? Why does he persistently do every wrong thing, completely aware of how wrong it is, yet he pushes through?
He grabs his keys and wallet and heads back out the door.
The streets are busy on a spring Saturday night. This was supposed to be a nice day off together. They had dinner plans and were going to go dancing. He never took Kim dancing before. Besides the church. But this was going to be actual disco dancing. It took ages to convince Kim to go and a whole other era to get the time off work to finally be able to do it. And he blew that. Now there's a cold gap in every discotheque where their two bodies should be, sucking out the sound of music into a vacuum the size of a pinhole.
He passes a bar. And another. And another. The door is left open and he hovers around the entrance, eyes darting into the dimly lit crowd of people leaning up against the counter, grabbing their drinks, laughing with their friend as they suck up sweet, bitter liquid through a small, black straw like little buzzing bees.
He takes a step in but the volume increase is threatening. Everyone here is decades younger and he sticks out, yet no one gives him a second look. He stands near the entrance as people walk past him, in and out, almost like he’s invisible. He feels like a wasp intruding on a bee’s nest. What will they do when they find out? The bar feels like it’s shrinking, the beat of the synth heavy music pulsating the walls as they close in around him. His chest starts to get heavy. He’s going to suffocate. He quickly steps out and sits on the curb with his head between his knees as he catches his breath.
He gets up and heads back home.
He won’t. Not tonight. He’ll apologize. Once he figures out why he does everything he does.
How long will that take, though? Pretty sure Kim won’t wait that long. He owes him something now. And Kim’s losing his patience. If Harry doesn't put in the effort, he's going to leave and Kim’s not Dora. Kim wont give him second or third or fourth chances of fifth chances or…wow, Dora really was patient with him. Or maybe she was just young and naive. Regardless, something is wrong with the both of them to have even given him a single chance.
Harry huddles into himself and shuts his eyes passing the last bar. He can hear the muffled sounds of constant buzzing as he passes the open door. He picks up the pace, his quick step soon turning into a jog, and practically runs to his apartment.
The brisk, night wind feels crips on his face and his heart pumping makes him feel alive. He gets inside and jogs over to his bedroom. He frantically digs inside his half empty dresser, running in place while grabbing an old pair of running shorts and a sweatshirt and quickly changes, tossing his clothes across the floor. He hasn’t stopped moving, dashing to the closet to find a pair of running shoes, simultaneously putting them on while hopping over to the door to head out into the grim, half abandoned streets on the other side of his neighborhood.
Running feels so good. Why does it feel so good?
This running is good. The running earlier today was not good. But what's the difference?
Why does he run? It makes him feel good.
Why does he run? To avoid not feeling good.
To avoid Criticism.
To avoid Cuts.
Wounds.
Rejection.
Hurt.
Heartbreak.
What happens when he runs? His thoughts melt away.
What happens when he runs? He's alone with his thoughts.
He's alone.
Alone.
No one’s running with you, Harry.
No one’s *chasing* you, either.
People don't chase runners. You simply watch them run away. Maybe sometimes you watch them cross the finish line.
Are you winning?
What race are you even in?
Should you be racing?
Are all runners racers?
The original marathon. That had a purpose. A message to be delivered. He was running somewhere.
Where is he running to?
To solve a case?
No.
To avoid reality.
That’s not a place nor a destination. *That's* running away. *Prey* behavior.
Is he prey?
If so, who is the predator?
…
Who is the predator, Harry?
…
Kim? Are you running away from Kim?
…
…
No…
No? It sure looks like it, Harry.
No.
He gave you a choice to stay or go. Which did you choose, Harry?
It’s not Kim.
Why did you run, Harry?
…
Harry…
Because I'm afraid.
What are you afraid of, Harry?
I don't know.
What are you afraid of, Harry?
…The *inevitable*.
The *inevitable* is not real, Harry.
It is. I’m the *gloaming*.
It's not. *You made it up*.
No, it's real.
Every time you run, it grows.
You just said it’s not real.
It's a part of you, Harry. It's behind you right now, cast within your shadow.
It's night, I have no shadow.
Exactly. It's so large, it encapsulates the whole world now.
No, no, it's not real.
You just said it was.
No, I'm going back.
If you turn around and face it, you'll see just how daunting it's become. The *inevitable* is here, Harry. You might as well keep running. Better luck with the next race.
I don't want to race.
But you're running? You don't want to be prey, but you don't want to race? What else is there?
No, I want to go somewhere. Harry slows down his pace.
*Where*, Harry? There's nowhere to go. The inevitable is here now, remember?
No. There's somewhere to go. The inevitable is not here yet.
He turns around and pushes forward, heading back home.
It is, Harry. It's right on your doorstep.
No, it's not.
You're going to regret this.
It's going to hurt.
The sharp wind cuts into Harry’s eyes and forms stinging tears, but he won't let up.
There's no winning this one, Harry. It's too late.
You took too long, they've shut the race down. The finish lines are all wrapped up and tucked away in a closet. They already handed out all the trophies. It'll come about next year. Maybe…
I don't need to win. I just need to get there.
To *where*, Harry?
Home.
What home? The dust filled, empty, sad sack of an apartment? Or *Kim’s* home?
He watches his shadows appear and disappear between the string of street lamps, stretched out long and thin and angled behind him.
It will follow you forever. There’s no escaping it.
He keeps his eyes forward, watching his apartment building grow as he gets nearer. At his doorstep, a dark shadow appears underneath from within. His already cardio ramped heart rate spikes up higher. He slowly grabs the handle, but the door flies open on its own.
“Harry!” Kim’s forehead is wrinkled in worry.
“Kim?” Harry is surprised to see him. Kim steps back to let Harry in, his eyes scanning for anything of concern.
“Where have you been?”
“Oh, I went for a run,” Harry shrugs sheepishly.
Kim looks at his watch. “Harry, it's 10:30 pm.”
“Yeah?” innocently confused by his point.
“I've been trying to call you. I was worried. Why are you running at 10 at night?”
Harry shrugs. “Better than drinking, right?” he points out, though not facetiously.
Kim takes in a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to force out the built up anxiety. “Hmm.”
“Is that what you thought I was doing?”
Kim frowns. “Or something else.”
Harry frowns. “Kim, I know I get sad and shit, but I’m not like a constant walking suicidal case, ok?”
“I know.”
“I said I'd be fine,” Harry reassures him.
“Yeah, but things can change in a few hours. Especially with you. And I know you'd be lost in your own thoughts. I couldn't leave things like that.” Kim speaks breathily, his nervousness still apparent.
“You can't be responsible for my thoughts, Kim. That's too much for you to stress about.” Harry glances over Kim, whose pupils are wide as he picks at his nails incessantly with his thumb unknowingly. A nervous tic. The guilt of how much distress he causes the people he loves makes Harry feel really heavy all of a sudden and he steps over to the couch to sit on the back of it.
“Well, I can't help it. I worry about it…About you.” Kim follows after Harry, standing in front of him now.
“You shouldn't,” Harry looks down at his feet, too ashamed to face Kim. “It's not feasible. What are you gonna do? Keep an eye out for me 24/7? 365 days a year?”
Kim pauses for a while before giving a small shrug. “I wouldn't mind that.”
“Yeah, but – Wait, what?” Harry looks up at Kim.
Kim steps closer. “I want you to move in with me.”
Harry stares at him, stunned.
“I don't like this. You holing off like this. I know you need some time to cool off. And that's ok. I shouldn't have pushed you. I want to work things out with you, but I'm willing to wait until you're in the right headspace, ok? I get that. But, we can have space at home. Together.”
“I feel like you need space more than I need space. Sometimes I feel like you really don't like me.”
“I know I can be harsh. I'm sorry. I don't want to end things. I'm willing to do everything I can to make this work, I just need to feel like you are, too.”
“I am, Kim. I'm sorry. I regretted leaving as soon as I left. I was just coming back to call you. I'm sorry. I won't run off anymore, ok. We can talk. I'm ready,” Harry nods agreeably.
“We can talk tomorrow, ok?” Kim’s eyes are watering.
“No. Well, I mean, ok, but I at least want to apologize.”
Kim looks down. “Ok.”
Harry takes a deep breath and speaks slowly. “I’m sorry for not respecting you. The things I do, well, I guess they’re what I want. And you’re right. I know I try to force that on you,” Harry swallows. He grabs one of Kim’s hands and he lets him. “And I’m sorry. I won’t do that again, ok? Kim, I really do care about you and I should show that by listening to you, not with whatever I make up in my stupid head.”
Kim bites at his inner lip and finally looks up. “Thank you, Harry.” He watches Harry rub his hand with his. “But you don’t have a stupid head.”
“Debatable,” Harry shrugs.
Kim smiles. “When you say that’s what you want, what do you mean?” He slips his hand into Harry’s.
“What do you mean?”
“Like that’s what you want to do for me? Or that’s what you want for you?”
“Oh, uh,” Harry’s brows furrow in concentration. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Maybe both?”
Kim moves closer to Harry. “Can you elaborate?” He brings his other hand over to Harry’s and starts to fiddle with his fingers. The feeling sends shocks up Harry’s arm that he misses a breath.
“I’m just proud of our love, I guess. I really love you, Kim. I’m not ashamed of it. I want everyone to know you’re mine and I guess, I’d like you to want everyone to know I’m yours, too. I want you to be proud of me, of us.”
Kim moves in closer, sliding his hands up both of Harry’s arms affectionately. “Hmmm,” he hums, making it clear he’s listening intentionally.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” tears start to well up in Harry’s eyes. “I just want someone to love me so much they can’t contain it, you know? Everyone is so embarrassed to be around me. I’m never anyone’s friend, I’m their coworker, work partner, boss, whatever. Anything that makes it clear that they’re not associated with me by choice.” The tears start to fall harder now.
Kim wipes away a tear. “But I’m here by choice. And I’m not ashamed of you. You were a little right earlier. There are societal concerns at play here.” He pauses. “If I could, I’d gladly parade you around as my boyfriend.” He gives Harry a small smile.
Harry nods and leans into Kim’s forehead, accidentally skewing his glasses slightly.
Kim brushes Harry’s hair back. “I missed you as soon as you left. I almost did chase after you.” Kim wraps his arms around Harry, who embraces him back. “Next time, I will.” He leans into Harry’s neck, pecking him gently behind his ear, sending a shiver up Harry’s spine. Seems Harry really is prey after all and he’s been caught. No more running now.
“Is that not what you did, though? Chase me here?”
Kim holds in a laugh and buries his face into Harry, pinching a roll of fat in Harry’s back.
Ouch.
An attack!
Retreat, run!
No. Being prey is a *good* thing now.
“I love you, Kim.”
Kim nuzzles in and gently bites into his prey’s neck. “I love you, Harry.”
Later that night, somewhere in a packed discotheque, a pin-sized hole shrinks and its hunger diminishes. Somehow, the club seems louder than it was before.