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Their first night together hadn't gone as planned - but, in all fairness, neither of them had ever planned a 'first night' together. They disliked each other. Strongly.
It was a spur of the moment thing. Simon's hand had lightly brushed against Harry's knee, then had made its own way up to his thigh, resting itself there without moving. When Harry didn't complain about the touch, he swore to himself that it was the alcohol taking over him.
With every shot of sambuca, and every cup of vodka coke, they noticed themselves getting closer, and closer, and by the end of their night, Harry was practically sat on Simon's lap. Simon's fingers danced around Harry's waist, grazing the skin lightly with his nails, and Harry had thrown his head back onto Simon's shoulder. They were thankful their friends had left them to dance, knew all the strange looks that they'd receive - knew that they'd never live this down.
When Simon's nails scratched over a certain point on Harry's abdomen, Harry let out a quiet whine, and let his eyes meet Simon's. The way he looked up at Simon through his eyelashes, his eyes glistening under the light, and speaking all the 'pleases' he wasn't saying out loud, had Simon finally giving into what he wanted. What tipsy Simon wanted.
He grabbed Harry's hand, and tugged him up, dragging him out of the club without even waving bye to their friends, far too occupied with the thought of what was to happen that night. Thankfully for him, it was a club not too far from his house, so he continued to drag Harry along down a few streets, before reaching his front door.
Simon's hands fumbled around in his pockets, as he frantically searched for his keys. Far too eager to take his time in looking.
They barely made it up the stairs, before Harry found himself clawing at Simon's top, and their lips had connected. Simon opened his bedroom door, forced Harry inside, then slammed it behind them, pinning Harry up against it.
The kiss was messy, and it showed hints of desperation. Their teeth knocked against one another's a few times, and their tongues intertwined almost immediately. Simon's right hand made its way to the small of Harry's back, and he pushed forward slightly, allowing their bodies to get impossibly closer. Harry moaned into the kiss, and let his hands grab onto Simon's top, begging him to remove the item of clothing.
They didn't take their time with things, instead just getting straight into it. To both of them, all it was, was a cheap, drunken hookup.
---
The morning after, Harry opened his eyes, and sat up, rubbing them as he took in the unfamiliar setting.
It took him a few moments to recall the happenings of the night before, taking in his surroundings - which weren't helping him whatsoever. He had never been in Simon's bedroom prior to then, never thought there would be a situation that would have him end up in there.
He groaned out loud as the memories came flooding to him. Simon giving it to him like he had no time to spare, as though their time together was limited. The roughness of the sex, and the lack of eye contact. He winced as he felt his dick twitch, and he caught sight of the slight bruises that had formed on his wrists.
He placed his hand on his forehead, as he looked next to him. Simon was nowhere to be seen, and the house was eerily quiet - all he could hear were his own sharp breaths.
Resting on top of the bedside table was a piece of paper, and it quickly caught Harry's attention. Maybe he was just being nosy, but he was curious on what it was. On closer inspection, he realised that his name was written on it.
For a few seconds, Harry just sat there blinking to himself. A note. Simon could not be serious. He sat up a little more, and reached over to the piece of paper, picking it up, and opening it up.
'When you go, lock the door behind you, and leave the keys under the mat. Jide went out, but he knows you stayed. I told him you were sick.'
Harry scoffed as he went over the words a second time. Of course, it had to be from Simon, but how could he be so blunt? Surely, after the night before, he would want to talk or something. But, no.
It seemed as though they would just go back to how they normally were. For some reason, Harry seemed slightly opposed to the idea, but decided not to dwell on it too much. That was a conversation with himself for another day.
As he got dressed, he tried his hardest to focus on anything but Simon, but ended up giving up as he realised it was impossible to, as he was stood in his room.
---
The rest of his day seemed to go as normal as it could, until the evening came. For one day only, he wished for no drama, but knew he had his expectations far too high.
Ethan: Bog! Meet us at Simon and Jide's x
Harry: Everything okay?
Ethan: Course, we're just discussing Jj's birthday plans x
Harry: Alright, I'll be over in twenty x
He knew it was a stupid idea, turning up to Simon's again after only leaving there that morning. Unfortunately for him, he had no excuse to back out. Knew that him avoiding the situation would only cause further, unnecessary problems.
He held a hand to his chest, as he tried to steady his breath a little. He found himself feeling anxious as he sat in his uber, and hoped that it wasn't only him feeling that way.
As he entered the front door, he felt himself begin to sweat, and he felt his cheeks flush. Knowing that only the night before, him and Simon had, had sex in that very house had him blushing. Not out of embarrassment, at least he tried to tell himself, but out of pure nervousness.
---
"You alright, Bog?"
Harry lifted his head as he heard Ethan speak up, pulling his attention away from the complete brain-fog he was having. "What's that?"
"Are you okay?" Ethan let his eyes scan across the room, noticing the tension between Simon and Harry. It was nothing unusual, but something seemed different that day. "Simon, you too. You're both awfully quiet."
Both of their attention zeroed completely onto Ethan as he mentioned both of their names in one sentence, panicking that they had been caught. Once they noticed the lack of knowing in his words, they felt themselves calm a little. "Hangover."
Ethan began laughing at them, and Harry couldn't help but feel a hint of sadness. He wouldn't admit to it, but the complete lack of acknowledgement from Simon was killing him. Not even the lack of mention of their shared night, but Harry was so used to Simon making unnecessarily rude comments towards him. It was a strange thing to miss, but Harry felt himself almost mourning it.
---
Everything blew up when Josh suggested Simon and Harry working together to plan something.
"I'm not planning something with him." The pure disgust laced in Simon's words had Harry wincing, and finally admitting to himself the real pain he was in. His words, and his voice sounded so bitter, it made everyone come to a stop.
"Woah, what's wrong with you today, Simon?" Never had he ever been so rude towards Harry, it usually coming off lighter than it just had. All of the boys noticed, and began questioning it.
"Just piss off," he stood up, and headed straight towards his front door, "I can't be bothered with this."
Everyone sat still for a moment, no one daring to speak up as they heard the door slam in the distance. Harry felt tears begin to cling to his eyelashes, but made sure not to let them fall.
"What was that all about?" Tobi was the first to speak up, clearly startled by Simon's performance.
"Shall I go check on him?" Vik offered, and Harry knew it was probably the better option, but still decided to speak up.
"No, it's okay." He saw concerned eyes look towards him, "I'll do it."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Josh questioned, which was definitely the right thing to say. On a normal day, Harry wouldn't be the right person to talk to Simon, and after his crashout, it definitely seemed like the very wrong thing to do.
"Just let me handle it, it'll be fine."
He stood up, and left a lot less dramatically than Simon did. He exited the front door, and walked round a corner, where he could see Simon with his head, and his fist, rested against a wall.
Harry sped up his footsteps slightly, and Simon turned to look at him. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say that Simon looked hurt, rather than angry. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes looked sunken in slightly, a frown present on his face.
Harry caught sight of Simon's reddened knuckles, and gasped slightly. Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed Simon's hands, bringing them down to his chest. "What are you doing?"
"What do you want?" Simon hesitated for a moment before he spoke, and his voice didn't sound as disgusted as it did just before. It seemed as though he tried to come off as sharp, but the worn out look on his face let him down.
"Simon, you can't just pretend last night didn't happen." Harry let his fingers brush over Simon's knuckles slightly, and Simon pulled back a little. Harry dropped his hands, and instead began to awkwardly fiddle with his own fingers.
"I'm not pretending it didn't happen."
"You can't even bring yourself to say it," Harry inspected Simon's face and realised that he looked more worn out than anything, "and you just made a very obvious angry show in front of the boys."
Simon let out a shaky breath, and mentally cursed himself out. He knew how pathetic he was being, but didn't know how to voice how confused he was. He had been so confused for such a long time, just for the alcohol to let him down.
"Of course I can't, Harry. We can't just -" His hands found their way to his head, and he began brushing his fingers though his hair. He let out another shaky breath, and dropped his eyes to the floor.
"Go on."
"We're supposed to hate each other, Harry. Tolerate one another at the least, we're not supposed to sleep with each other."
"But we did." Harry didn't quite understand why Simon was so frustrated. Of course, Harry was too, but Simon's seemed to go to a further extent. "It happens, and it did happen. We were drunk, and we were wanting. Just accept it."
He took one last look at Simon, noticing a bewildered expression on his face, almost as if he was figuring something out. "Come back when you feel like it."
---
It was a new day. A new week, even. Ten days had passed, and Harry hadn't once spoken to Simon. The tension between them had calmed down, both being able to look at the other without crashing out, but they still hadn't spoken about what had happened.
At least, Harry had thought so. Until the most not expecting day, where Harry was enjoying his own company, and chilling out by himself.
Simon: We need to talk.
Harry's fingers paused, and he just stared at the notification that came through on his phone, watching it until it swiped away.
Simon: I'm coming round.
Simon seemed pretty set on his decision, so Harry didn't reply. Instead he sat there, paused, with so many emotions taking over him.
He was worried, shocked, and confused, but most of all, he felt impatient. He didn't know what to expect from the conversation with Simon, but knew that talking to him was long overdue.
It took only a few minutes for Simon to get there, a knock on Harry's door interrupting him from his thoughts. He stood up, and made his way to the front door, unlocking it, and opening it - Simon walking straight in.
"Can we talk?"
"Yes," Harry didn't even bothering sitting down, instead he just stood in the middle of his living room with Simon, "I think we need to."
"Can we at least sit down?"
"Oh," perhaps Simon wasn't as eager to get things sorted as Harry was, "of course."
They both took their seats, and both stayed silent for a few seconds. Harry played with the edge of the sofa, as he felt himself feeling more awkward with every moment that passed.
"Can you promise to react in a calm way?" Simon broke the silence, and Harry lifted his head to let his eyes find their way to Simon's.
"Calm? How is that?"
"Don't get angry," Simon averted his eyes, "and please don't laugh."
"Of course not." Technically, Harry couldn't promise anything. He had no no clue what to expect Simon's next words to be, but he just wanted to hear them.
"Right, okay, uhm-" Simon coughed a little, and once again dropped his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, and straightened his posture. "I've been thinking a lot over the past ten days. Over the past couple of months, really. It's not that I didn't want to accept what happened between us, it's just that I didn't want to accept myself. The night we shared together, it was messy, it was rushed, but it meant so much to me, and that scared me."
Harry was shocked, he couldn't lie. His eyes widened slightly, and he felt his hands go to reach out to Simon. "I'm listening."
"I do want you, Harry." Harry couldn't help but smile, finally letting his own feelings be validated in his head. "Have for a while, but it was just easier to show hate to you, than show what I really hated, which was myself."
"Simon," Simon finally lifted his eyes, and made eye contact with Harry, "I'm so sorry that you've been feeling like this, and I'm so sorry I had no clue."
"Please don't apologise. I had no right to take it out on you."
"It's okay now," and it really was. Harry could finally accept the way he had been feeling, and he could easily let go of the tension him and Simon had already shared. "I want you too, Simon. We can work through this."
Simon grabbed Harry's hand, and let their fingers intertwine. He was a little hesitant, but it felt almost natural to him once he had calmed down a little. "I want to try this with you, but I want to take it slow. It's probably still going to take a while for me to really accept myself, but i really want this." He let his fingers run across Harry's knuckled, and then his thumb, imitating what Harry had done to him only a week prior. "Only if you want to, that is."
"Of course I want to, Simon. I don't know how long I've wanted this. I think it has been an unspoken thing in my mind for a long while, but that night made everything become so apparent to me."
---
A few months had passed, and they were laying on the bed that they had shared their very first night together on. Things were completely different, as now, they were boyfriends. They were boyfriends, and they were in love, and they enjoyed nothing more than each other's company.
Harry's head was in Simon's lap, and Simon's index finger was tracing every one of Harry's features on his face. He stared down at him with such a loving look plastered in his eyes, and a smile on his lips, and Harry couldn't ask for much more.
They had long lost interest in the movie that they had played on the tv, instead enjoying staring at one another.
Simon moved his hand so that it ran through his boy's hair, and let his free hand brush over Harry's thumb as he reached down to interlock their hands.
It was funny how time worked, and it was funny how feelings worked. Only a year ago, neither of them could imagine themselves in this situation. All those minor arguments, and all of the unnecessary comments were simply just repressed feelings. A while ago, hating each other seemed easier than accepting their true feelings towards one another.
Both of them were so thankful for a drunken night.
"You're so perfect, Harry."
Harry's eyes had began fluttering shut not too long ago, Simon lulling him to sleep with his gentle touches. Despite that, he still heard the compliment, and a bright blush spread across his nose, and his cheeks.
They couldn't ask for much more.
---
Despite the clapping and cheering, all Simon and Harry could focus on were each other. They pulled away from a kiss that was going to mean everything to them forever. Simon's hand on Harry's cheek, it was a touch that was going to mean everything to them forever. It was a day that they would love and cherish until the day they perished.
'If all else perished, and he remained I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn to a might stranger.'
"I love you, Husband." Simon was sure he had never smiled so widely, never smiled with so much truth and happiness behind it.
"I love you too, Husband." Harry leaned in for another kiss, and he felt completely dazed. That day would surely be his favourite day for the rest of his time.
Husbands.
"Three years, and you're already married," their friends had surrounded them, and most were hiding tears with laughter, "who'd have thought your rivalry would lead us to this?"
Months in denial, months with fake hatred. May we thank alcohol for bringing us to our true feelings, and may we thank Jide for inviting us out that night. I love you for you, and all that you do.