Work Text:
Conor sat hunched over a textbook in the far corner of their school library, scribbling notes for his upcoming test tomorrow. His writing was more automatic than focused, just a way to comfort his mind he did some study while not actually learning anything at all. The library was quiet, as always. Nobody really came there except for the odd last-minute crammer or the kind of student who didn’t want to be found. Conor was both of those, and he liked that about it.
A click of the door broke the stillness. He didn’t look up at first. Sometimes people came in for the occasional printer or nap. Besides, most people knew to leave him alone, but the footsteps that followed didn’t stop. They got closer. Slower. Familiar.
Conor finally looked up.
Harry was standing across from him, taller now, side parted blonde hair a little out of place as if he’d run his hands through it one too many times, brown eyes uncertain as if deciding to sit or bolt. His expression was unreadable, nervous, maybe. Hesitant.
Conor’s face hardened on instinct. He dropped his gaze back to the writing, though the rushed lines he scrawled made zero sense.
Conor didn’t want to talk. Not to Harry. Not to anyone.
It had been months since he and Lily had last texted. Even longer since someone had approached him for conversation in the hallways without looking away mid-sentence. Therapy wasn’t fixing much, but at least it meant he had someone to listen to him once a week. That was more than most people offered.
And now Harry was here. The last person he’d expected. The last person he wanted to expect.
Harry pulled out the chair opposite him. Sat down.
A long silence followed. Conor’s eyes stayed on his page. His body was still. He could feel Harry fidgeting in front of him. Harry shifts in his chair, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table. The silence stretches. Then– “You still hate me?”
Silence. Conor doesn’t stop writing, but he still blinks as if the question was unexpected. “Never said I hated you.”
“Yeah, but… you don’t not hate me.”
Conor exhales a breath of amusement or frustration. His pen paused, eyes going onto the boy in front of him. “What do you want, Harry?”
Harry runs a hand through his hair, eyes scanning the spines of nearby books as if they could help him. His voice was lower now, awkward. “I don’t know. Thought we should talk, I guess?”
“Talk?”
“Yeah, man. It’s been, like, 3 years. I feel like I owe you an apology.”
Conor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It took you three years to come to that conclusion?”
Harry shook his head vigorously. “No… No, more like… Like. Like, I knew before, but, I didn’t know how to, like, say it.”
Conor looked away from him, voice flat. “Is that why you’re here? Guilt?”
“Kinda. I was a coward. Back then.” Harry admitted, focussing on his hands. “I didn’t get to say sorry.”
Conor was still. He didn’t look at Harry, but he wasn’t hiding behind his notes either. “Saying sorry won’t change or fix anything. You don’t get to say sorry and expect things to just… yeah.”
“I don’t. I really don’t.” A moment passed, but it wasn’t as sharp now. “Just thought it’d be nice if you weren’t the only one on this table.”
Conor finally met his eyes. There’s a flicker of something– not forgiveness, no warmth, but curiosity. Studying him. “This doesn’t make us friends.”
“Good. I’m crap at friends anyways.
That earnt the smallest twitch at Conor’s lips. Not quite a smile, but almost.
The two stared at each other for another moment. The air felt less heavy. Conor returned to his notes, but now he was actually reading what he was writing. Harry sat quietly across from him. He didn’t fill the silence. He just stayed with him.
For the first time in a while, Conor didn’t mind sharing the quiet.
SCHOOL LIBRARY - LUNCHTIME
Harry was already seated when Conor walked in the next lunchtime. Harry didn’t say anything to him, he just nodded at the chair across from him. Conor hesitated, gripping at his satchel before sitting down. They both opened their books. There was no conversation, just the quiet hum of pages turning and pens scribbling.
Conor stole a glance.
Harry’s lips moved silently with the words he was reading, brows furrowed as if actually trying. Conor looked back to his notes, the tension leaving its shoulders.
SCHOOL LIBRARY - AFTER SCHOOL
Conor’s phone was at 3%. He checked his bag. No charger.
Harry glanced over, noticing. He silently slid his charger across the table.
Conor hesitated, then plugged his phone in.
“Thank you.”
Harry shrugged, half smiling.
LIBRARY - RAINY LUNCHTIME
Conor’s headphones were on again. Harry leaned over.
“What’re you listening to?”
Conor didn’t answer. He just slid an earbud to him and passed it across.
Harry hesitated and took it.
They sat there listening in silence.
On the phone screen: “ Home - Cavetown ”.
Harry tapped his fingers on the table. Conor didn’t stop him.
SCHOOL GROUNDS - EARLY EVENING
They were walking out of school at the same time. It just happened.
Harry muttered something about their home economics teacher looking like a baked potato.
Conor let out a short laugh. One that shocked even him.
Harry grinned, genuinely pleased.
They kept walking. Together this time.
CONOR’S ROOM - ALMOST MIDNIGHT
Conor was lying in bed, scrolling. A message from Harry:
harry:
I actually am gonna DIEE I don’t wanna do the English assessment😭
Conor:
die less loud.
A beat, then:
harry:
Rude😒
Also fair
Wanna quiz eachother tmrw?😎
Conor stared at the screen.
Conor:
sure.
LIBRARY - A WEEK BEFORE HOLIDAYS
It was quiet. Harry was going through flashcards half-heartedly. “My parents think I'm applying to med school.”
“Are you?” Conor asked, without looking up.
“Fuck no.”
A pause. Conor replied,
“My grandma thinks I’m okay.”
They don’t say anything else. They don’t need to.
CAFETERIA - MIDDAY
Conor walked in, scanning the room. Lily was at her usual table, glancing at him briefly then looking away to her friends.
Conor turned and saw Harry sitting down, earplugs in.
He walked over. Sat down.
Harry looked up and smiled. He pulled out an earbud.
“That seat’s cursed. You’ll fail your exams.”
“Too late.” Conor said, deadpan.
They ate. The silence was easy now.
LIBRARY - POST EXAMS
They were supposed to be studying for biology. Harry was doodling on the sides of his notes.
He passed a horrible drawing of their biology teacher pulling a ridiculous face.
Conor stared. Then snorted.
Harry laughed with him. Loud. They got glared at by the librarian.
Both of them immediately whispered, “Sorry.”
They burst into quiet laughter at their unison.
LIBRARY - LATE WINTER AFTERNOON
They sat next to each other now. Not across.
Shoulders brushed lightly. Neither pulled away.
They shared a textbook. Conor leaned in to point at something on the pages. Harry didn’t dare to move.
CONOR’S ROOM - NIGHT
A text popped up.
harry:
Ever felt like you are just NOT built to be around ppl?
Conor read over it 3 times before responding.
Conor:
yeah.
everyday.
No reply. Not for a while.
harry:
That is so valid and REAL!!😍😍
SCHOOL GYM - AFTER HOURS
Conor jogged around the track, his sleeves rolled up, hair wild. Harry was there too, unexpectedly.
He jogged up beside Conor.
“You run as if tryna escape a crime scene.”
“Maybe I am.” Conor replied, breathless.
Harry smiled smugly, watching his friend carefully. A moment goes by before, “Form’s all wrong. You’re wasting energy. Here.” Ignoring Conor cursing him, Harry stopped his hand on Conor’s shoulder, warm, firm and steps behind him before explaining gently. “Head’s up. Shoulders relaxed. Stride’s too short. Like this–”
His hands brushed Conor’s side to adjust and correct his posture. The touches lingered longer then they should’ve. Conor’s breath caught. Harry’s voice got quieter.
“Yeah. That’s better.”
They were too close. Neither moved.
Conor stepped away. “I think I’m good.”
But his heart was pounding louder than before, not because of the run.
SCHOOL LIBRARY - AFTERNOON
Conor was reading. Harry was beside him, closer than usual today. Their elbows kept brushing, both pretending the touches never happened.
Harry leaned in. “Your handwriting looks like shit .” He whispered dramatically.
Conor’s lips pulled up slightly, responding quietly, “‘Least I’m doing work.”
Harry rolled his eyes but kept staring at the page. He wasn’t reading. Suddenly Conor’s neck felt warm.
A moment passed. Their shoulders brushed again.
Neither pulled away.
CONOR’S HOUSE - EVENING
The door creaked open. Conor stepped aside awkwardly as Harry stepped inside, glancing around.
Harry let out a low whistle. “Didn’t take you for a house-with-a-chandelier typa guy.”
“It’s not mine. It’s my grandma’s.” Conor responded grimly.
“ Right… Real estate, right?”
“Yeah. She’s at a, uh, dinner thing. Won’t be back ‘till late.”
They stood there in the foyer, uncertain of what to do with their limbs. Conor finally gestured down the hall. It was his house, so he should probably do the stuff.
“We can go upstairs. I mean, my room’s up there. For, you know… studying.”
“Yeah, studying.” Harry hoped his blush was overshadowed by his nervous grin.
CONOR’S ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
The room was dimly lit thanks to a lamp by Conor’s desk. His room was small, neat and a bit impersonal. The worn headphones on the nightstand and Cavetown poster said otherwise.
Harry walked over, tapping the poster lightly. “Still like this guy?”
“He makes sad sound good.”
“Have you ever tried making music yourself?”
“No.” Conor said quietly. “I just listen.”
A silence fell between them.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed. Bouncing lightly, testing the mattress.
“Comfy.” He nodded approvingly.
“It’s a bed.”
“You always this exciting when people come over?”
“You’re the first in a long time, Harry.”
Harry looked up at that. Something about his tone was a bit too honest.
A beat passed.
Harry laid back on Conor’s bed, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Conor stood by his desk, pretending to be interested in his history notes he’d left there. He was not.
“This is weird, right?” Harry said.
“Pardon?”
Harry cleared his throat. “This is weird, right? Us. Being… this?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, me neither.”
Conor finally turned. “You’re not exactly subtle.”
Harry blinked, looking up at Conor, off guard. “Wh– About what ?”
“Everything.”
“You’re one to talk.”
They stared at each other for a bit too long.
“C’mere.” Harry said.
Conor hesitated. He then crossed the room, heart a bit too loud.
Harry patted the space beside him. Conor sat down. Their knees touched. The two boys both froze slightly at the touch but didn’t dare say anything more.
“Even your room is quiet.” Harry commented softly.
“It’s always quiet.”
Another pause.
Conor leaned his head slightly to the side, brushing Harry’s shoulder briefly.
“You are easy to be quiet with.” Harry said, barely audible.
Conor closed his eyes for a second. Swallowed.
“You don’t make it easy to think.”
They sat there, knees touching, shoulders barely brushing, words unsaid thick in the air.
HALLWAY - BETWEEN CLASSES
Conor rounded the corner. Harry was up ahead, leaning against a locker, chatting with Sully.
Laughing.
Sully cracked a joke, Harry shoving him playfully.
Conor’s stomach tightened.
He ducked into a stairwell before either of them could see him. He sat on the cold step. It was stupid for caring. Even stupider for feeling... left out, wasn’t it?
LIBRARY - NEXT DAY
Conor was quiet. Harry was fidgeting with his bitten pen. Conor glanced at him.
“You’re talking to Sully again?”
Harry looks startled for a second, realisation and guilt going across his face. “Not like that, Conor. We just ran into each other.”
Conor shrugged. “You looked happy.” He tried to sound uninterested but failed horribly.
“So? Do you want me to be miserable?”
Conor opened his mouth– closed it, looked down. “I just thought… you didn’t… you didn’t talk to him anymore.”
Harry softened. “I don’t. I wanted to talk to you. I always do.”
Conor looked at Harry, face pinkening.
“Oh.”
SCHOOL YARD - BREAK DURING PE
Harry sat slouched against the wall of the gym, eyes on the floor, lost in thought. Conor came down, sitting down next to him, taking a long sip from his water bottle. He let out a quiet breath and wiped his mouth.
“Hey.”
Harry glanced at him, then away. “Hey.”
The long silence withered away as the two boys watched the ground together.
“You ever… uh, think about kissing someone?”
Conor looked at Harry, startled. “Like… in general?”
Harry laughed nervously. “Yeah. I mean– not like, someone specific . Just. Like. Kissing. You know.” Harry inwardly winced as his voice cracked.
Conor swallowed. “I guess.”
Neither of them moved for the next moment.
“Do you think I’m weird?” Harry asked, his whisper strained and barely audible.
“No. No, I don’t.” Conor replied quickly.
They glanced at each other. Shit. They’d held eye contact for too long.
Harry’s eyes flicked to Conor’s lips, then quickly away.
CONOR’S ROOM - LATE EVENING
Rain pattered against the window softly, rhythmic and distant. The lamp on Conor’s desk cast a muted amber glow over the room, with long shadows stretching across the floor. Conor was on his bed, sitting cross-legged with a book open in his lap, not really reading. Harry paced near the window, arms folded tightly across his chest.
Conor read quietly. He didn’t ask Harry anything. Not yet.
After several moments, Harry stopped, turning to face him. His jaw was tight.
“Do– do you ever feel like… like, you’re just someone else’s version of who you’re supposed to be?”
Conor blinked. “That’s a, uh, loaded question.”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Harry laughed dryly. “I just– I don’t know how to say this stuff without sounding weird.”
He turned away again, hands on the windowsill now, shoulders tense.
“My parents think I’m perfect. Like, I’m on track to be some golden boy surgeon or lawyer or… or whatever bullshit looks good on a Christmas card. They have these… expectations. You ever feel like if you disappoint them once, you stop being real to them?”
Conor put the book aside, legs swinging off the bed now. “Harry…”
Harry didn’t look at him. He kept staring out the window, voice quieter. “I’ve never told them I like guys. Or anyone. I’ve never told anyone.”
A long pause filled the room.
“I’ve dated girls maybe once or twice. Just to, like, shut everything up. But I felt fake. I hated it and I hated pretending I didn’t even more.” His voice broke on the last words. He quickly cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes, but the tears came anyway.
Conor stood. He crossed the room slowly, stopping beside him.
Harry shook his head, letting out a breath that sounded more like a sob, still not turning.
“They’d never accept it. I know that. And– and even if they did, they’d make it all about themselves. About how hard it is for them . How it reflects on them . I just– I’m so tired . I’m so tired of being someone for them and no one for me.”
Harry’s chest heaved now, breath catching between half-held sobs.
Conor placed a hand on his shoulder, hesitant but steady. “You don’t have to be like that. For me at least.”
Harry finally turned. His eyes were red, his face blotchy, angry with himself for crying. But he didn’t pull away from the hand. He didn’t move at all.
“I don’t want to lie about who I am anymore, Conor. Not with you.”
His voice trembled, but the words were honest.
Conor’s hand slipped from Harry’s shoulder but didn’t fall away. It found Harry’s hand instead, fingers cold, shaking, and held it.
They stood there, a breath apart.
Conor’s voice was low. “You don’t have to say anything else.”
Harry looked at him, really looked, eyes red-rimmed and shining. “I want to. I’m just scared.”
Conor nodded once. “Me too.”
There was no music, no dramatic cue. Just the rain and the sound of their breathing, soft and uncertain.
Harry’s eyes flicked down, then up again. “I’m not… good at this. Any of this. But with you, it’s like…” He trailed off. His voice failed.
And Conor, without a word and heart pumping, stepped forward and kissed him.
Harry froze, shocked, but only for a second. He then leaned into it, one hand grasping the back of Conor’s hoodie. They kissed like they didn’t know how but needed to. Harry registered that Conor’s lips were cracked, which somehow made it seem even more real.
When they broke apart, foreheads touching, Harry’s voice was a breath, “You kissed me.”
“I did.”
There was a pause. The space between them felt warm now.
“I thought I was supposed to be the one freaking out and doing something reckless.”
Conor gave the smallest smile. “You looked like you needed someone to go first.”
Harry laughed, a bit watery. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”
They stood there, forehead to forehead, their breaths slowly syncing. Neither of them pulled away.
“Is this okay?” Conor asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. This… is really okay.”
Conor closed his eyes. The silence in his room didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt full.
They didn’t say anything else.
They didn’t need to.
HALLWAY OUTSIDE LOCKER ROOMS - LATE TO CLASSES
Harry stood just outside the locker rooms, the hallway completely empty. The muffled sound of a bell echoed faintly across the corridor.
“Conor, hurry up! We’re late!” Harry called, glancing down at his phone. Still no reply. He frowned. “Conor?”
He stepped inside.
LOCKER ROOM - SECONDS AFTER
Conor stood with his locker wide open, rummaging through it like he was trying to outrun his own thoughts. His muttering was too fast to make out, more like (insert metaphor).
Harry slowed, watching him carefully. Something about the tension in Conor’s shoulders made him hesitate.
“Conor,” Harry said, softer now. “You good?
Conor paused for half a second, just long enough for Harry to catch the flicker of panic in his eyes. Then Conor slammed the locker door shut a little too hard.
“I can’t find my textbook. I had it this morning, I swear–”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Harry stepped closer.
Conor didn’t move. Didn’t look up.
“It’s not about the textbook, is it?”
That did it.
Conor finally looked up, something raw in his expression. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been holding it since the first period.
Harry stared at him a moment longer, like he saw someone else entirely.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Conor asked, a whisper.
Harry stepped in, closing the space between them. “Because you’re doing the thing again. Pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”
Conor opened his mouth. No words came out.
Harry hesitated. “You… you don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”
That was it.
Conor surged forward.
Their mouths crashed together is a mess of breath and too many unsaid words. Harry was knocked back against the locker with a hollow metallic clang, a grunt escaping him and Conor grabbed the front of his shirt, dragging him closer like he couldn’t stand the inches between them.
Conor rose to his toes, chasing the connection. Harry curled his fingers into Conor’s hoodie. Their teeth clacked slightly but neither cared. Harry held him tighter, the kind of way of saying, I’ve wanted this and I’m scared of this all at once.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together, both breathless and wide-eyed.
“Well…” Conor panted. “That was…”
“Late to class.” Harry finished, voice rough but grinning.
Conor huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that too.”
They both didn’t move for a moment. Didn’t speak. The locker room around them was silent, save for the sounds of their hearts trying to settle down.
Then Harry let out a quiet breath. “Next time…” He murmured. “Let me initiate the kisses, yeah?”
Conor shrugged lightly. “Then don’t hesitate so much.”
Harry scoffed, tired, amused, potentially even embarrassed. “You’re annoying.”
“Look who’s talking.”
They stepped back, a fraction of space returning between them. None of them said anything more.
“We should probably go,” Conor said.
“Yeah.” Harry replied, still watching him.
CLASSROOM - MINUTES LATER
The door creaked open.
Heads turned.
Harry stepped in first, avoiding eye contact. His hair was still slightly dishevelled, his tie a little crooked. Conor followed a step behind, hoodie pulled low, eyes to the floor.
Their teacher paused mid-sentence. “You’re late.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Harry mumbled, already making way to their desk. “Locker room… thing.”
Conor didn’t speak. Just slid into his seat, pulling out his books as if nothing had happened. His hands were a bit too careful. His ears burnt.
The room went quiet again. Almost normal.
Harry stole a glance from Conor. Conor didn’t see it, but he could feel it. He could always feel when Harry was looking.
Their teacher resumed lecturing. The words blurred together into the background.
A few minutes passed. Papers rustled. Pens scratched.
Then, quietly, Harry passed a sheet of paper.
Conor unfolded it.
Still annoying
- H
Conor stared at it for a moment. Then, lips twitching slightly, he scribbled something down, folded the paper, and passed it to him.
Harry opened it.
- <3
He bit the inside of his cheek and smiled. Just a little.