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Harry is looking over at Vik's hands. They lie intertwined in his lap as he’s intently listening to Simon explain something. Vik’s right thumb draws slow circles on his left hand.
How badly Harry wants to reach out and intertwine them with his instead, feel the softness underneath his fingers and forget that it was probably Vik's girlfriend who coated them with lotion. All he wishes for is being able to just casually slip his fingers in between his and feel his skin under his palm. Softly, he would stroke his thumb over the back of his hand. And the relief. The relief he would feel when looking up into Vik's face and seeing that he’s smiling at him. Because he loves him too.
He knows it’s stupid, but he can't help entertaining the voice of foolish hope in his heart.
"Harry, would you want to do that?" Simon’s words rip his gaze away from Vik.
"Huh?"
Simon repeats himself and Harry hastily agrees to take on the task. But even though Simon carries on talking, Harry's mind drifts off again.
Girls have it so much easier. They can simply take their friend’s hand or cosy up together without anyone batting an eye. What he wouldn't give to just be able to throw an arm around Vik's waist and snuggle up to him. He could bury his face in the nook of his shoulder and breathe in his scent. And Vik wouldn't be weirded out. He'd just pull Harry closer and think his friend needs some affection, no reading into it. How easy his life would be.
At some point, this constant longing and not doing anything about it is going to drive him crazy. Even now, with Ethan sitting between them, Harry has to consciously resist the urge to reach over, to just have his hand hovering close to Vik's body. Once the yearning has taken over his body, there is nothing else he can focus on. There is only Vik's wonderfully concentrated expression with the small wrinkles between his eyebrows. Only the way his eyes crinkle when JJ says something funny. Only the comfortable but elegant position his legs automatically take when he sits. Vik’s so poised all the time and Harry wants to discover how he could make him feel truly unburdened.
His mind wanders back to the time they filmed Sidemen Go Camping. In the tent at night, there was just him, Simon and Vik. Vik was sleeping in the middle. Their sleeping bags were open because it was a warm night, perfect for camping. But Harry didn’t sleep all night, too strong was the urge to reach out and put his fingers on Vik’s waist. He only ever imagined touching it though. The furthest he went was accidentally bumping his knee into his thigh.
The night played out differently in Harry's head, however. Lying there, he would have tenderly stroked Vik’s side, his hand gliding over his stomach and pulling him into his chest. Their legs would entangle and Vik would turn around all sleepy, smiling at him. Harry would bury his face in Vik’s chest and drink up the sensation of Vik’s strong torso underneath him. He would be able to hear Vik’s heart beating in his ear, feeling safe with Vik’s arms holding him. And without ever expecting anything, he would be content lying there, listening to him breathing.
When he really wants to be miserable, he imagines Vik turning around, but instead of just holding him, he carefully, cautiously kissed him. It was all soft lips and bashful eyes. There was no passion in that kiss only tenderness. Both unsure of how the other would react. Vik’s hand rested on his cheek, fingertips meeting skin. Harry’s hands though didn’t want to hover. They needed to make sure Vik was here, wasn’t going anywhere, was real. They held onto Vik for dear life, grasping tight at him for a lifeline, knowing there was hope.
Harry’s imagination never goes any further. For one because he isn’t sure he wants it to, but mostly because Vik is his friend and that feels like a definite breach of his boundaries. Their friendship is way too important to Harry and too pure to let it be ruined by impropriety.
Thus, all Harry ever does is stare at Vik from two seats over and dream of an alternate reality in which he is braver, actually reaching out to hold his hand.