Work Text:
(George’s POV)
It was nearing October, and George and Chris sat at the flat working on yet another Lego build.
Arthur Hill was out recording some music at the studio, something he did most days at the moment. He’d been killing it, showing off to George snippets of songs or running lyrics by him for a second opinion, and George would always been in awe of the man’s raw ability to create music, to create art, with such ease.
Yet George was guilty also. He hadn’t spent much time with Chris lately, or Arthur Hill: if he wasn’t with Harry, then he was alone in his room worrying about him with no in-between, lying on his bed and staring up at his ceiling for so long that George swore it fucking breathed.
Because of that, George had made a conscious effort to be more present in his flatmate’s lives. Both Chris and Arthur had vocalised their appreciation for it, even though they were never angry or upset with him about his absence in the first place.
‘It’s understandable,’ Arthur Hill had said when George had brought it up late one night, long after George had given up on sleep. ‘Harry needs you more than we do right now.’
Chris nodded in agreement. ‘We never took it personally, mate. We understand… but we also appreciate the apology, even if it wasn’t necessarily needed.’
He’d even made time to call his family, to speak to them properly. George had suddenly had the epiphany that he never really told his family about what happened, about Harry’s accident, and about how he himself had gotten hurt in the process. He’d gotten the train down to Bristol a week ago while Harry was away on another Sidemen shoot to see them in person, to explain, to apologise.
They’d been horrified when they heard the extent to the accident, when they heard what exactly had happened to Harry and how George had gotten hurt too. They went so far as to threaten George to move back home, to keep an eye on him, but George’s only thought was this:
Who will look after Harry if I’m not here?
But back to building Lego with Chris.
George realised he’d missed it, hanging out with Chris, with Arthur: hanging out with his flatmates in general. Of course he adored Harry, and Harry had taken up a lot of his headspace lately, but he adored Chris and Arthur too.
‘Georgie?’ Chris asked softly.
‘Yeah?’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘You just did.’
Chris sighed good naturedly. ‘I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.’
George let out a chuckle. ‘I know. Fire away, mate. Fire away.’
‘Why don’t you just tell Harry how you feel?’
All the air in George’s body rushed out, leaving George lightheaded and hanging on by barely a thread. He set the Lego pieces down and stared at his hands, watching them like they were foreign objects he’d never seen before.
Shit.
‘I’m sorry if that was an invasive question,’ Chris said, his voice small, when George failed to speak.
It was enough to snap George out of his funk, to look his flatmate in the eye. ‘Not at all,’ George said. ‘I just…’ he shook his head, mulling over how to explain. ‘I don’t want to put even more pressure on him. He’s… he’s having a hard enough time as it is. He needs to focus on himself.’
‘But you love him.’
‘With everything I have.’
All of me. Every part of me.
Even the parts I cannot see.
Chris’s lips formed a wry smile. ‘I think that’s the first time I’ve finally gotten you to admit that out loud.’
‘Probably,’ George said, chuckling, his heart beating out of his chest. His palms began to sweat and he clenched his fists repeatedly, an anxious motion he watched Harry do numerous times over the years.
‘So tell him,’ Chris said, like he didn’t understand the need for secrecy. ‘Tell Harry.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ he said shortly, unable to look Chris in the eyes. ‘He’s still… adjusting.’
‘It’s been six months, George,’ Chris said softly. ‘It’s been six months since the accident.’
‘I know,’ George said. ‘I just… I don’t think he’s ready for a commitment as big as this. Not yet.’
‘And… and what happens to you if he’s never ready?’
‘Then we stay friends.’
Chris fixed him with a worried expression. ‘Can your heart handle that?’
‘I don’t care what we are, Chris,’ George said tiredly. ‘As long as Harry is in my life, in whatever capacity, I don’t care where we end up.’
‘Even if it ends in heartbreak?’
George knew what Chris was trying to say: even if it ends in heartbreak for you? Even if you end up hurting?
‘It won’t,’ he said. ‘Having some of Harry is better than having none of him, and if it’s only friends that ever happens between us, then I’ve made my peace with that.’
A comfortable silence settled in the air between them, something warm, like the sun in early summer, like a hot water bottle in the cold, winter nights, and in that silence Chris observed him thoughtfully. ‘When did you grow up?’
George shrugged. ‘This last six months has put a lot of things into perspective.’
‘Because of the accident?’ Chris asked softly.
George nodded. ‘Harry almost died that day. He could have so easily died, Chris, and I realised that any one us could die. Just like that. No warning sign. Just… gone.’
Chris made a noise of understanding. ‘You know, I cannot even begin to fathom a world in which Harry doesn’t exist anymore. He’s one of my oldest friends, and I’ve almost watched him die tw –‘ Chris cut himself off abruptly, his face turning stricken, his eyes darkening into black holes.
George waited a beat before he spoke up. ‘You’ve almost watched him die twice?’
‘How –‘
‘Harry told me about the overdose,’ George said. ‘He told me how it was kept a secret. He… he told me how much he regretted being the way he was.’
‘He trusts you,’ Chris whispered. His eyes shimmered with tears. ‘If Harry told you about that, it means he trusts you.’
George allowed himself a smile. ‘He told me that, too.’
Chris smiled. He debated for a moment. ‘Are you sure? Are you sure you won’t tell him how you feel?’
‘It’s not the right time.’
‘And when is the right time?’
‘I’ll know,’ George whispered.
‘I just don’t want you to end up hurting,’ Chris said. ‘That’s the last thing you deserve right now.’
‘I could never hurt, not as long as Harry’s in my life.’
The same silence enveloped them, a hopeful blanket of warmth: the cold creeped back in before long, a mournful chill in the air, like no matter how much he tried to warm himself, he’d never be warm again.
George focused back on the Lego, forcing himself to pick up a tiny piece while his hand shook, the instructions blurring before his very eyes.
I’m not crying right now.
I’m not fucking crying.
It was also in silence that Chris stood up and hugged George tight.
‘I love you,’ Chris told him, firmly. ‘I love you, mate.’
The piece of Lego fell to the table with a quiet clatter.
‘I love you too, Chris,’ George said, hugging him back, hugging him like his life depended on it. He pressed his face into Chris’s stomach, ignoring the way the other man’s jumper dampened as a result. 'I love you too.’