Chapter Text
(Harry’s POV)
Harry loved mornings like these.
Harry loved the serenity that came with being out in nature.
It was a cool March morning, and himself, Chris and George were trail running, following a path they’d researched a few weeks ago, a recommendation from a group George had joined online.
They’d gotten into that recently. Trail running. Harry found he was able to run for longer when his surroundings excited him, when he didn’t know where the path would lead, especially when he was with his friends. They made the time pass by quicker.
He found that, when he was alone, life dragged. When he was alone, he made stupid choices.
Harry Lewis loved the unexpected. He loved the fluidity of life in all its’ glory.
While they ran, he thought of George. Of how he’d almost just… blinked, into existence one day, how he’d just showed up in Harry’s life overnight and never left – and Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. He was grateful for George’s existence, in the same way he was grateful for Chris’s, for the Sidemen, for the Cals, and for everyone else he was close with.
Life was easier with people around. Life was exciting.
When they hit 5km, they stopped for a break in a little clearing in the woods, drinking water and eating snacks (gels and proteins bars, as well as an abundance of jellybeans) they’d stashed in their running vests earlier that morning.
‘It’s a good trail, this,’ Chris spoke up, sat with his back against a tree stump, his knees bent against his chest.
Harry sat on the floor with his legs splayed out in front of him. ‘It’s definitely one of the better ones.’ He glanced up. ‘How did your date go the other night, Chris? You went out for dinner with her, right?’
George let out a playful groan, on his feet but leaning against a tree. ‘Harry, he’s non-stopped talked about it all week. Why’d you have to bring it up again?’
‘Oh, fuck off,’ Chris laughed. ‘And it was good! She even wanted to see me again.’ He looked a little abashed, a little hopeful. ‘We’re going out again next week.’
‘I’m happy for you, mate,’ Harry said. He truly was. Chris had been searching for years for the right person; hopefully this woman could be Chris’s forever. With that thought in mind, Harry turned to George. ‘And you had a date last night, didn’t you? How’d that go?’
Across the clearing, Chris giggled.
‘It was fucking shambles,’ George said with a groan. ‘I know in the past I said I wouldn’t mind dating a fan, but… she kept quoting things I’d said years ago, things I didn’t even remember saying.’ He shook his head. ‘It was awful. I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life, and I live with Arthur Hill.’
The joke earned a few chuckles from the trio.
‘You’re allowed to change your mind, you know?’ Harry said after a few moments of silence, remembering something Josh had told him when he was younger. When I was young and stupid and pushed everyone away. ‘For years I kept saying I was straight, then I was bisexual, then I was gay, then I was bisexual again and…’ Harry’s fingers found a twig on the floor. He traced it before he snapped it clean in two.
‘Have you discovered a label for yourself yet?’ Chris asked, curious. ‘Because I know that was the main thing you struggled with when we were younger.’
‘No,’ Harry said. ‘If anything, I’d just label myself as… fluid, I suppose.’
That had been Harry’s favourite word since he stumbled across it a while ago.
George let out a pleasant hum from beside him. ‘That’s actually a really good way of putting it. Fluid. Like water. Moving this way and that. Everchanging.’
Harry offered him a smile.
George smiled back.
‘So, Harry,’ Chris said. ‘Anyone on your horizon lately?’
‘Nope. Still flying solo,’ Harry joked.
Harry hadn’t been on a date in years, and in all honesty, he was okay with that. He was content hanging out with his friends, content with doing his own thing as and when he pleased.
Even if he did get lonely most days.
‘There’s nothing wrong with flying solo,’ George said, pushing off from the tree and stretching. ‘Best to stay that way until you meet the right one, you know?’
When do I know if I’ve met the right one?
What if I never know?
What if I never find the right one?
They headed back out onto the trail shortly after, Harry in the lead.
George overtook him immediately, stumbling through some undergrowth to get around – Harry always felt at peace around the younger man, always felt happy. They were like two golden retrievers running about and chasing each other; a similar friendship he shared with Arthur TV.
He supposed it was the Autism.
(At least, that’s what all their friends would say it was).
‘Oi,’ Harry called, grinning. He put on the speed, and while Chris called them idiots from behind, giggling at their antics, Harry trampled through some bushes to overtake George, to take the lead again –
The ground beneath his feet vanished.
He fell, a surprised yell erupting from his mouth.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling.
His body felt weightless, and pain erupted every time it hit something on the way down; the rockface, branches, jagged edges, thorns – a ravine beside the trail hidden from view by the thick undergrowth.
Harry landed on his back with a heavy thud, all of the air rushing out of his lungs, and a scream caught in the back of his throat.
His arm felt like it had been wrenched out of its socket, pain twisting through his insides like a parasite. He tried to lift his head, only it was heavy and laden and felt like it was full of cotton wool.
Far, far above him, something groaned, something creaked, and something heavy cracked.
Before Harry could make out what it was, everything faded to black.