Chapter Text
Epilogue
(Ethan's POV)
Harry wasn’t there when Ethan arrived.
Ethan took a seat at one of the empty tables at the back of the café, one that was secluded, one that was far away from any of the other tables. He knew what they were going to be talking about, and he knew Harry wouldn’t want an audience.
Ethan knew he'd fucked up. Royally.
He ran a hand through his hand, guilt churning in his stomach. He was happy for Harry, he truly was. His friend had a boyfriend that cared about him, and all Ethan had done was mock him, was belittle him, was bully him to the point where Harry had gotten angry, to the point where Harry no longer felt safe around Ethan, around his best friend.
And the reason why? It was what he’d said to Harry when he went over with Faith and Olive a few weeks before. ‘I don’t know how to talk to you anymore, Bog.’
To put it in simple terms, Ethan was jealous. He was jealous that Harry had found a new best friend. He was jealous that Harry had confided in the others and not him. He was jealous that Ethan was the last one Harry had opened up to.
It was no secret that Ethan didn’t deal well with jealousy. He didn’t deal well with being replaced, and he was scared that that was exactly what Harry was doing. He was scared that Noah would take Harry away from him.
Instead of telling Harry that, Ethan had been horrible and bullied his best friend. He'd pushed him away.
How pathetic was that?
Ethan would do whatever Harry wanted in order to fix it, even if it meant that Harry never wanted to talk to him again.
The man in question arrived twenty minutes later, dark circles beneath his eyes. He wasn’t happy, not in the slightest, and he was nervous, his face marred by a deep frown.
Ethan couldn’t bare the thought that it was all his fault.
He stood up upon noticing Harry’s arrival, giving the man a small wave.
Harry ignored him and stopped by the counter, chatting to the man behind the till.
Ethan sat back down and waited patiently. He’d do it at Harry’s pace. Harry was in control. Harry would decide what happened after they talked.
Minutes later, Harry walked over to Ethan with two coffees, a scowl on his face. He slid one across the table. ‘Thank you,’ Ethan said quietly, reaching for the coffee and taking a sip.
Harry shrugged. He wore a jumper that definitely wasn’t his own – it was too long and too baggy. It must have been his boyfriends’; Ethan had never seen that particular jumper before: a brown, unbranded hoodie that looked so comfortable and warm, that looked well loved.
Harry watched him with an expectant eyebrow raised. It was blatantly obvious to Ethan that Harry wasn’t going to be the one to start the conversation. He remembered Josh's parting words to him last night.
'If you don't fix this, you and are I going to have big problems.'
Ethan took a breath. ‘I don’t know how to preface this other than saying… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you.’ Harry’s frown deepened. ‘I was awful to you, and I bullied you for no reason –‘
‘Th-there was,’ Harry interrupted bluntly, anger in his usually warm eyes. ‘There was, was, was a r-reason.’
‘Harry –‘
‘And if, if you don’t, don’t say the r-reason why, I’m, I’m, I’m walking out that, that door and I won’t talk to you ever, ever again.’
‘Harry –‘
‘You were a p-p-prick,’ Harry said. ‘You, you were a prick eve-eve-even when you knew I, I, wasn’t okay, when you knew I was str-struggling, and you some-somehow made it all, all, all about you.’ His face flashed with hurt, with frustration. ‘Th-th-then, we had an agree-agreement that we’d t-t-talk about my relationship when I was r-ready to, to talk about it, and yet you a-a-attacked me about it in, in front of every-everyone.’
Ethan’s eyes swam with tears. A sharp pain took root in the base of his throat, stabbing in the same spot over and over again. He felt so ill, so guilty. He wish the ground would swallow him up.
‘So, so why? Why were you so, so, fuck-fucking horrible when you knew I was, I was having a terrible t-time?’ Tears streamed down Harry’s cheeks. He looked so panicked, so desperate to understand why. Ethan hated himself. ‘Do, do you not like m-me anymore? Do you, you hate me? Because, because that-that’s the only, only feasible r-reason I can come up, up with.’
Tears ran down Ethan’s cheeks in the floods. ‘I don’t hate you. I promise I don’t hate you… the opposite, in fact.’ Ethan let out a sob. ‘I love you. I love you so fucking much and I’m so sorry for everything.’
‘What was the, the, the reason?’ Harry cried, wiping at his eyes. More tears took their place until Harry gave up, instead tangling his fingers in the cords of his hoodie and tugging.
Ethan made a wounded sound at the base of his throat. His best friend was crying because of him. His best friend thought he hated him. How could he have let that happen?
Faith had already chided him, and the rest of the Sidemen had voiced their opinions on the matter, Josh having been louder than any of them.
‘I’m, I’m not good at emotional shit,’ Ethan said, his voice wobbling all over the place.
Harry slapped his hand weakly atop the table, frustrated. ‘It, it’s not an ex-excuse, Behz!’
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ethan blurted out, ‘I was worried you were forgetting me. I thought you were replacing me with Noah.’
Harry looked utterly bewildered. ‘W-what?’
‘I don’t do well with jealousy, or with abandonment,' Ethan began. ‘Especially after what I went thought with my dad, and my fake dad - not that you abandoned me, Bog. If anything, it was me who abandoned you, but, but… I felt like you didn’t need me anymore and I got scared, so instead of talking to you about it, I mocked you instead.’ Ethan swallowed sharply. ‘That’s it. That was the reason. I was jealous of Noah. I… I missed you.’
Harry sat in silence, a frown back on his face, staring at the table.
Ethan’s heart beat wildly in his chest while he waited for Harry to digest everything he’d said. Deep down, he hoped Harry would accept it for what it was, hoped that they could go back to normal, yet if Harry decided he didn’t want to, that their friendship was over, Ethan would accept it without making a fuss.
Sure, he’d be heartbroken, but it would be his fault. He’d pushed Harry, time and time again. One time too many. He shouldn't have pushed him in the first place.
While he waited, Ethan tried to compose himself. He took a deep breath, once, then twice, six times. He wiped away the remaining tears from his eyes, brushed a hand across his face to wipe the tracks away.
Across the table, Harry was doing the same thing.
Ethan took a draught of coffee. It was lukewarm and almost cold but coffee is coffee – and, glancing back up to Harry, he could see the wheels turning in the younger man’s head.
Harry cast steely, bloodshot eyes upon Ethan. ‘I’m g-g-going to say this, this once. If-if you ever d-d-do that to me, me again, ki-kick me when I’m, I’m, I’m down, when I’ve expressed to you t-t-time and, and time again that I’m not, not okay, then I don’t w-w-want to be, be friends with you any-anymore. This, this, this is your l-last chance. I love you.’ Harry’s voice broke. ‘I l-l-love you so much, but, but I re-refuse to stay in a place where, where I’m constantly being h-h-hurt by someone I, I love. I… I won’t do that again.’
‘I… I won’t do that again.’
Alarm bells rang in Ethan’s head. He frowned at Harry, leaning forward, searching him for something, for anything. Layers of hurt and heartache swirled around in his eyes. So much pain.
So much pain.
More pain than Ethan had ever seen in Harry before. It occurred to him that maybe he was finally seeing the real Harry, the Harry beneath his layers, the real Harry that lived beneath his shield, the same shield he’d hidden behind for years.
‘You’re not just talking about me, are you?’ Ethan asked softly.
One by one, the layers of Harry peeled back, revealing the boy who had made the brave decision to moved from Guernsey to London all those years ago chasing a dream, revealing a boy who had been in pain and had no one to confide in, the same boy who had never gotten the help he needed.
‘L-looking back on, on, on it now, I… I don’t think I, I really loved K-k-katie,’ Harry whispered hoarsely. ‘I had d-doubts from the first week, when I, I, still lived in G-guernsey. I just… I didn’t be-believe that I was, was deserving of any-anyone else.’ Harry shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. ‘M-m-more or, or less, she was kind. She was, she was, she was lovely. She was so l-lovely, but she, she could also b-be mean. She did-did-didn’t have much, much patience with me, with my, my, my stutter. She, she hated phys-physical con-con-contact, and I… and, and I…’
Harry hung his head. Ethan’s heart broke for his friend. ‘And you love it?’
‘I n-need it to, to function. It’s like a, a, a drug, a drug to me.’ A horrible feeling settled in Ethan’s gut. ‘When, when I didn’t get, get enough from the people around, around me, I… I took them,’ he said in a whisper. ‘They, they helped.’
‘Them?’ Harry looked up, and the pain in his eyes was the only answer Harry ever needed to give. ‘Oh, Bog.’
‘They, they calmed me d-d-down. They help-helped me to, to, to sleep on the b-b-bad, bad days, but, but…’ Tears filled Harry’s eyes once more. ‘Katie found out. T-told me, I can handle the stutter, Harry. I can handle you, even when you’re being too much, but drugs? Drugs are another thing entirely.’ He choked out a sob. ‘She, she left. I, I got add-add-addicted. I got addicted and I was, I was, I was on my own.’ Harry covered his face with his hands and cried.
Ethan shook, but it wasn’t just from heartbreak. It was also anger. Anger at Katie for being awful to Harry, anger at Katie from referring to it as dealing with Harry, for saying that Harry was too much. It was obvious that Harry had never forgotten the words she’d told him the day they’d broken up. They carried weight, and Harry had carried that weight around with him ever since.
He'd pushed people away because he didn’t want them to deal with him. He’d pushed people away because he was terrified of being too much.
‘Harry,’ Ethan said quietly, sadly. Harry didn’t look, just carried on crying into his hands. Ethan’s foot found Harry’s beneath the table and hooked their ankles together, a simple touch to ground him.
Harry had been addicted to drugs. Ethan had known Harry had taken them – they’d all done them at various points to try. He just hadn’t realised how bad it had gotten.
How had Harry pulled himself out of it? How had he done it without anyone noticing?
He pushed you all away so you wouldn’t find out, his head helpfully supplied. Ethan wanted to kick himself. He’d failed Harry. He’d failed his best friend.
All of them had.
‘And, and…’ Harry stammered. ‘And, I… And…’
‘Breathe, Bog,’ Ethan murmured, watching Harry’s every movement, every reaction. ‘Just breathe for a bit, yeah? Take all the time you need. I’m… I’m not going anywhere,’ he promised.
That made Harry crumble further. He let out a loud sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the rest of the noise. Ethan wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to reach out and pull him into his arms and protect him from the world that had hurt him so badly.
But Ethan had hurt him too.
Harry pulled up the sleeve of his jumper and held out his arm to the other man.
Ethan scanned the pale expanse of skin before honing in on the white scar that trailed across his forearm. His heart pounded, the sick feeling in his stomach threatening to crawl up the back of his throat. ‘You said you got that injury rock climbing,’ he said.
Harry shook his head once. No.
Ethan’s mouth ran dry. He reached out a brushed Harry’s arm with his hand. Harry flinched away and yanked the sleeve back down, the scar hidden. Hiding.
Hiding.
Just like Harry had been doing since he’d arrived in London. Hiding. Still hiding.
Only now just being found.
‘How did you get that scar, Bog?’ Ethan asked quietly.
Harry looked him in the eye. Ethan knew immediately without Harry having to say a word. He let out a quiet gasp. He hadn’t realised. He hadn’t known that –
‘I did, did, did it the day K-k-katie left. I was, was high, and d-drunk, and, and I thought it would h-help.’ Harry shivered and curled in on himself.
Something inside Ethan broke at the admission.
The cut itself had looked far too precise, far too surgical for it to have been done on a sharp rock out in the middle of nowhere. Ethan hadn’t questioned it – how could Ethan had been so stupid, so clueless? At the time, he’d just laughed at Harry’s misfortune and clapped the younger man on the back. Harry had laughed. Harry had bantered back.
All of this time, and Harry had been hiding. He’d been hiding and no one had cared enough to find him, to coax him back out.
Ethan remembered finding out about the breakup. Harry had missed a few shoots feigning the flu (which Ethan now realised had been a ruse for his addiction, for his blatant depression he’d been battling this whole time) and had turned up at the next one looking a little pale, quietly informing the group, ‘Katie, Katie and I have broke-broken up. I, I don’t want to, to talk about it.’
As it turned out, Harry had waited an entire month until he’d admitted that Katie had left, before he had told the Sidemen. Correction: Harry had been alone with the knowledge for an entire month, alone with his thoughts, with his scars, with his addiction.
Harry had been alone, and Ethan hadn’t realised.
‘You’re safe, Harry,’ Ethan told him. ‘You’re safe here.’
‘Once,’ he croaked. ‘I did, I did it once and, and never again. It, it bled a lot. I s-scared my-myself, but, but, b-but –‘
Ethan reached across the table and took Harry’s hand. It shook and trembled violently. The younger man looked up, his cheeks wet with tears. ‘Have you self-harmed since?’
Harry frantically shook his head know. Ethan sighed in relief. ‘I, I got c-close but I was, I was too, too scared.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘I’ve, I’ve scratched, scratched my arms a l-little every now and then.’
Ethan’s heart broke again. Harry had been in so much pain. He had been in so much pain and no one had known. For years. For years he had kept his pain silent because he truly believed that no one would care.
They’d all made drug jokes, hadn’t they? And gay jokes, bisexual jokes? They’d made those jokes at Harry’s expense for years and laughed.
Guilt slammed him like a train when he realised (now) just how deeply the issues ran. Harry had been struggling with an addiction and he’d done it all alone. He’d fixed himself all alone. He’d accepted himself all alone without support.
How? How had he done it alone?
‘Do the Cals know any of this?’ Ethan asked, thinking.
‘I, I think they sus-suspected, but, but they nev-never asked. I… Lux m-moved out, and, and, and then Freezy m-moved out, and, and…’ Harry shook his head, shivering again. ‘I b-barely see, see anyone anymore. I, I know it’s my, my fault but –‘
‘Stop,’ Ethan said sternly, interrupting. ‘Stop that train of thought right there.’ He gave Harry’s hand a squeeze. ‘It was not your fault. We should have noticed that something wasn’t right. We should have picked up on the change in you.’
Harry tried to pull his hand away. Ethan refused to let go. ‘It’s in the, in the past, Eth. It does-doesn’t matter now.’
‘It does matter!’ Ethan cried. ‘You matter, Bog! Stop talking like you’re not important. You are. You’re so important.’ Ethan let out a sob. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. ‘I should have been there,’ he said. ‘Plain and simple. I should have been there, and I wasn’t.’
Harry sighed. ‘You didn’t have, have, have it easy eith-either, Behz.’
‘It’s no excuse. You were there for me, and… and I wasn’t there for you. Not when you needed me. And then when I was there, I was awful.’
Harry stopped trying to pull away. He tugged Ethan’s ankle closer. He squeezed Ethan’s hand back, interlocking their fingers one by one. ‘I, I forgive y-you,’ he said. ‘I think d-d-deep down I forgave you long, long, long ago – all, all of you – because, because how were you sup-supposed to know any-anything was, was wrong when I, I, I refused to say anything, when I ref-refused t-t-to let it show?’
‘But you did,’ Ethan argued. ‘You did let it show. You stopped hanging out as much. You stayed in your flat. You put on weight… and then you lost it very fast. You got quiet, and your silence was every warning we ever needed that something wasn’t right.’ Ethan took a breath. ‘The signs were there. They were all there and not a single one of us noticed.’
Harry looked down. ‘It, it’s in the p-past,’ he repeated.
‘That doesn’t make it right.’
They fell into silence, still holding onto to each other. Ethan was terrified that if he let Harry go then he’d never find him again, that the treacherous tide would sweep harry off his feet and drag him below, somewhere Ethan would never be able to find him.
‘I al-al-almost didn’t come to-today,’ Harry admitted. ‘I, I didn’t want to, to talk to you. I didn’t want, want, want to hear anything you had t-t-to say.’
Ethan tilted his head. ‘What made you come?’
‘Noah,’ Harry said softly, a small smile on his lips. ‘He, he told me I’d, I’d regret not h-h-hearing you out.’
Bless that man. Bless that man who saved Harry when I wasn’t there.
‘You’ll have to thank him for me,’ Ethan said.
‘You can th-thank him your-yourself.’
Ethan nodded. ‘You’re right. I’ll talk to him when I meet him, to apologise.’
Harry tapped his fingers of his free hand atop the table in a steady rhythm. ‘I think he’d like that.’
‘Does Noah know? About the drugs? About the self-harm?’
Harry sighed, his shoulders hunching in. ‘No. You’re the only, only one who knows. I know I n-n-need to tell him, b-b-but… but it’s still so n-new. I’m… I’m enough to, to, to handle as it, it is.’
Ethan made a frustrated sound. ‘Not handle, Bog. We never have to handle you,’ Ethan said. ‘You’re not something we have to simply deal with. You’re our friend, my friend. We care about you and you’ll never, ever be too much.’ Ethan thought for a moment. ‘Have you ever considered therapy?’
Harry nodded. Ethan didn’t want to push so simply let it be.
‘Hey, Bog?’ Harry looked up. ‘Thanks for coming. Thanks for listening.’ He paused. ‘And thank you for telling me that, all of it. That was really brave.’
Harry flushed a little. ‘There m-m-might be times where, where I hate y-you, but at the end of, of the day, you’re my, my best f-f-friend.’
Ethan swallowed, and prayed, prayed for the first time in years. He was so grateful that Harry was still here, that Harry had talked to him. He had his friend back. Harry had talked to him about things no one else had any idea about.
Sure, he would be forever chiding the Cals (and the Sidemen, and himself, and all of Harry’s other friends) for the rest of their lives for not noticing Harry’s self-destructive route, but he wouldn't confront anyone, not until Harry had given him the all clear, not until Harry opened up to other people about it, and if he never opened up? That was Harry's decision to make, not Ethan's.
Ethan let go of Harry, unhooked his ankle. He ignored the brief flash of hurt on Harry’s face and stood up, moving around the table to sit beside Harry. The younger man watched him, a question in his red-rimmed eyes.
‘Come here, Bog,’ Ethan muttered, pulling Harry in for a hug, holding his best friend close. Harry fell into the embrace, his hands clutching at Ethan, at whatever part he could hold on to. Ethan pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead and sighed, resting his head down on Harry’s shoulder. He was still shaking, still trembling. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Ethan whispered, rocking him slightly. He rested a hand in Harry’s hair, cradling his head. The other man shivered at the contact. ‘You’re safe with me, Bog. I promise. You’ll never be on your own. Never again.’
Harry hummed something intelligible.
‘What was that?’ Ethan asked.
His friend lifted his head a little. ‘I love you,’ Harry murmured. He dropped his head back down and buried in further.
Ethan smiled. ‘I love you too.’