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His lips graze over Harry's shoulder as they lie in bed. Jack is softly touching along Harry's spine, and relishing in the soft sigh it draws from Harry's lips.
"You okay?" Jack presses a kiss onto Harry's back.
"M'fine," Harry mutters back, eyes shutting. Jack nods and pulls back, before running a hand over his eyes. He watches as Harry waits, like he always does. There's a 50/50 chance he'll be told to get the fuck out of Jack and Tommy's apartment, or that he'll be ignored. Jack didn't care which he liked more. He fumbles with the bedside dresser drawer, and pulls out his pack of cigarette. Jack slips out of bed, and he can hear Harry's shaky breath.
Jack couldn't tell if it was relief or longing. But he just pulls his boxers back on, and throws a hoodie before standing on his balcony.
Jack isn't gay. He's not. Harry's easy enough to fuck, and Jack could pretend he was a girl all he wanted. He just had to close his eyes. He leans against the railing on the balcony, and sucks in a deep breath, before putting a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.
His mind is a little hazy, from the drugs or alcohol. He can't tell. He takes a long drag of the cigarette, and shuts his eyes.
Jesus, what the fuck is he doing? If his dad lived with them still- No. Jack can't think of that. Jack's father has been dead for two years. Jack's mother has been imprisoned for two year.
Jack refuses to speak about it. He groans quietly, and takes another deep drag. Fuck his stupid life. Fuck stupid Harry.
He's not gay.
Jack flicks the ashes off the cigarette, as the door opens behind him, and there comes Harry's voice, trying so hard not to be soft. He at least knew that was the quickest way to get kicked out. He had once tried to coax Jack into joining him in the shower. Jack had thrusted Harry's clothes at him and told him to get the fuck out.
"You know, that's gonna kill you," Harry hums, trying to make his voice harsh. Jack squints at him, before scoffing and shaking his head.
"Shut up," He says, lowly, but with no real heat.
Harry, being Harry, doesn't. He grins, and takes the cigarette from Jack's hand, taking a drag himself. They stand there for five minutes, maybe more, maybe less, before Harry speaks again.
"I should probably leave soon. Tom'll be up soon,"
"Just say you stayed over," Jack says quickly, but plays it off. "He won't care. He'll be glad you and I are bonding," Jack says the words mockingly. They bond very well with one another. Jack found that out after Harry got wasted at a party and, with Jack being almost twice as drunk, they fucked. Now, they just do it whenever Jack messages.
Jack isn't sure there's a time he touched Harry without needing to be drunk. He's starting to feel bile rise in his throat, so he leans over the balcony and hurls.
Harry barely flinches, as if he knew before Jack had. Just lets his hand rest on Jack's lower back, as he hurls down onto the pavement. Once Jack is fairly certain he is done, he spits for good measure, and rubs his nose. His tongue darts out, and he almost throws up from the taste of the vomit. He spits again, before heading inside the room. Harry follows.
A part of Jack hopes that Harry wakes up, and realises that Jack is the biggest dick that Harry will ever meet. Another part of him hopes to dear god that he doesn't.
"D'you want some pyjamas?" Jack says shortly to Harry, already rummaging through his clothing to find a pair of pyjama bottoms. He promptly stops, however, at the lack of response. Jack glances over his shoulder to look at Harry.
Harry stares at him, in a way that if Jack didn't know any better (did he know any better) he would've thought that he had shot Harry's mum. Jack raises an eyebrow, the scowl that seems to paint Jack's lips permanently, except when he's drunk, being placed upon his mouth.
"What?" Jack snaps, eyes narrowing. While he wasn't too worried, Tommy had an annoying habit of rising with the sun, one he had had since he was six, and Jack would really rather that Tommy doesn't awake to find his best friend nude and in Jack's bedroom.
"I thought- well, I thought I would just sleep naked?" Harry says, dumbfounded. Jack stops, and his scowl lifts barely. What?
"You're gonna sleep naked? On the sofa? With Tommy most likely finding you first?" Jack questions, eyes narrowed. The idea of anyone else seeing Harry naked sets something unsettling alight inside Jack, but he ignores it for now. No way in hell, is Tommy gonna see Harry naked. Harry's Nokia N70 buzzes, and Jack's eyes flicker to the screen. Probably Harry's stupid rich amazing parents fretting. Jack rolled his eyes.
"No," Harry says, sighing. "I thought I would sleep in your-"
"No! Are you crazy!? Then Tommy would come in and think I'm a queer!" Jack cuts him off, anger flaring. "You can be a queer, but I'm not. I like girls. Women. Fucking hell, Harry," Jack would've run a hand through his hair from stress, had it been long enough to do so.
But it isn't, so he settles for just clenching and unclenching his fists.
Harry swallows, and just nods. "I'm not a queer," He denies. "I'm not. Like you said, no feelings. We're just two guys, making each other feel good. Don't make it weird,"
Jack wants to deny that, to point out that this had all started from Harry's drunken confession that he liked to take photos of Jack, that he really fucking liked Jack. But that would start a fight, and Jack isn't in the mood for that. His own Nokia N70 buzzes. He knows it's Sammy, because she's the only one who would text him. Ever. Harry swallows again, glaring daggers at the phone. It isn't a secret that Jack and Sammy hooked up, the way it is that him and Harry hooked up. But Harry pulls on his own boxers, and the pair of pyjama bottoms that Jack kept for him, and leaves the bedroom. Jack can still hear Harry get comfortable on the sofa, and he sighs, before checking Sammy's message.
Sammy : r u still taking me 2 schl l8er?
Jack took another deep breath before shooting her a quick no. She just sent a thumbs up, and Jack put down his phone.
God, what was he doing?