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Summary:

It stirs something in Simon-a possessive,ugly thing he tries to keep buried but can’t deny.No matter how many strangers Harry kisses,no matter how many fleeting touches he shares in with them,Simon is the one Harry comes back to.He’s the one who sees Harry unravel,completely undone beneath his touch.

He doesn’t know whether to count it as a blessing or a curse—these nights they keep falling into.Simon is too attached,too in love,to stop them.And Harry?Harry is too careless to.

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Simon can’t take his eyes off him.

The festival vibrates with buzz around him,the pounding bass of the band echoing through the air,neon lights cutting jagged paths through the crowd.It’s chaos,sweaty and loud,with the moonlight barely managing to pierce through the haze of motion and sound.Simon sways slightly, the edges of his vision blurring as he squints into the throng of people.

Josh and JJ had disappeared ages ago,arm in arm,giggling drunkenly as they were swallowed by the mass of festival-goers.Tobi has stayed further back,the only sober one as always,bearing the weight of a limp-looking Vik who seems to be talking utter nonsense in his ear,though the faint smile on Tobi’s face is enough to suggest he doesn't mind.Occasionally,he’d shake his head,probably at something particularly absurd,but never with malice.

Ethan was still beside Simon,holding a tall glass filled with some pastel concoction.He’d stuck closer ever since Harry disappeared half an hour ago,hand in hand with some girl,headed toward the dingy food and drink stalls at the edge of the festival grounds.Simon has a suspicion Ethan had stayed because he’d noticed Simon’s mood souring the moment Harry left,not wanting him to do anything stupid.Either way,the company is appreciated,making him feel less suffocated while his betraying eyes drift towards the two shadowy forms standing under the blinking sign of the food tent.

Stop looking at him.

Simon stares at the drink in his hand,an identical pastel mix to Ethan’s.His fingers tighten around the cold plastic,head tilting back as he downs the liquid in one go.The alcohol burns all the way down,igniting a knot in his stomach that has been forming the moment he set eyes on Harry tonight,with his windswept hair and flushed face,already nursing a drink while greeting them with a bear hug.

Simon’s eyes drift back to the stalls again involuntary,teeth clenching as he watches harry tilt his head back and laugh,eyes crinkling at the corners and free hand moving to his mouth,as if stifling the sound unconsciously.

Simon hates the gesture.if he could,he would spend the rest of his life making Harry laugh like that,and then take Harry’s hands in his own,letting the whole world hear the sound .

Ethan says something behind him,cackling hysterically at his own joke,and Simon gives a short,unassuming chuckle,hoping it is enough to cover the fact that he’s been unable to tear his gaze away from a certain blond haired figure.

Certain blond haired figure who’s now kissing the girl in his arms.

Taking a sharp inhale,Simon murmurs something about needing another drink to the now dancing Ethan before leaving the crowd and moving towards the stalls,clenching the empty cup still in his hands.

He doesn’t know why it still gets to him—seeing Harry make out with unfamiliar faces during their nights out.Even more,he doesn’t understand why he puts himself through it.It’s not the first time he’s seen Harry with someone else,and it won’t be the last.Simon knows that.

Still,he still says yes to every invitation he gets for a wild night at a bar,someone’s house,-or a music festival now, apparently-and watches Harry like a lovesick puppy,eyes following the too familiar pattern of his body relaxing upon the first shot,smile widening and eyes getting that hazy,flirty look that draws people to him like moths to a flame.

It’s a far cry from the usually anxious,tightly wound Harry who would hide behind Josh or Ethan at the mere prospect of someone approaching him.The thought feels bitter in Simon’s mind,leving a sour taste in his mouth.

The girl at the makeshift bar hands him a new orange mix,smiling sweetly as she slides it across the counter.Simon mumbles a quiet “thanks”,jumping slightly upon feeling hands curl around his middle,a head of fluffy hair landing on his back.He doesn’t need to look back,there’s only one person who clings this unexpectedly to people,not caring about personal space.

“Where’d you go?”Harry mumbles behind him,a slight slur in his voice.Simon swallows hard,trying to turn around,but Harry whines in protest, his hands tightening around Simon’s waist.

God.

Gently, Simon pries Harry’s hands away, managing to turn and face him. His breath hitches upon seeing blue,blue eyes meeting his—cheeks flushed and swollen,pink lips.Recently kissed,his mind supplies meanly.Too close,they’re too close.

“You left first, remember?” he says at last,his voice almost lost in the roar of the crowd.The music surges again,cheers erupting in the distance as another song comes to an end.

Harry hums,the sound low and thoughtful as he takes Simon’s hands,guiding them to rest around his waist.His own pair slide up to Simon’s neck,fingers brushing his skin.A flicker of a smile curves Harry’s lips.

“Yeah,but I could feel your eyes on me the whole time,”Harry says,lashes fluttering. “And then they weren’t there anymore.”His voice dips,soft and teasing.“Thought you were protecting me, Si.”

Simon wonders if Harry can hear his heartbeat,wild and relentless, pounding against his chest.They’re close enough to.

“I needed a new drink.”Simon croaks,gaze moving to the lips so close to his own.

Soft,experienced fingers play with the hair at the back of his neck.

“Harry” Simon breathes,jaw clenching.“what are you doing?”

Harry’s mouth curls, just slightly—a faint,almost imperceptible smile that somehow feels both innocent and knowing.His fingers don’t still,combing gently through the hair at Simon’s nape.Simon can feel the warmth of him—too close,breath ghosting over his cheek.

“I wanted to go home with her,” Harry murmurs,voice quieter now.

“I wanted to,but then I remembered last night,your mouth,your hands on me,your voice…”His words trail off with a shaky breath.“And then I looked back,and your eyes weren’t on me anymore,and… I don’t know what I’m doing,Si.I just… I missed you.”

Simon’s hands tighten around Harry’s hips,the cool press of his drink in one hand drawing a soft hiss from Harry.Simon doesn’t flinch to the confession;he can’t. He’s lost count of the times they’ve found themselves like this—arms around each other,the air charged with tension,want,need.Their breaths mingled,air heavy with alcohol from the countless shots each had.

Yet,somehow,it’s never enough.It’s never enough to make Simon stop wanting this—to make him stop wanting Harry.Especially not now,when Harry looks up at him with those wide,ocean eyes,his hair curling messily into his face,cherry-red lips parted,as if waiting to be kissed.

It stirs something in Simon-a possessive,ugly thing he tries to keep buried but can’t deny.No matter how many strangers Harry kisses,no matter how many fleeting touches he shares in with them,Simon is the one Harry comes back to.He’s the one who sees Harry unravel,completely undone beneath his touch.

He doesn’t know whether to count it as a blessing or a curse—these nights they keep falling into.Simon is too attached,too in love,to stop them.And Harry?Harry is too careless to.

Simon snaps out of his thoughts at the feel of warm breath ghosting over his neck,followed by the unmistakable press of a wet mouth against his skin.His grip tightens instinctively,fingers bunching the fabric of Harry’s hoodie as if grounding himself.

“Harry,” he breathes—a name, a plea,a warning.

But Harry doesn’t stop.His lips continue their lazy path along the column of Simon’s throat,slow and deliberate,a quiet hum vibrating against his skin.

Simon grits his teeth,jaw tightening as his free hand threads into Harry’s hair.He tugs,a gentle but firm pull meant to break the moment.

It doesn’t.

Harry’s head tilts back,a soft,breathy moan spilling from his lips.Half-lidded eyes lock onto Simon’s,and something sharp twists in Simon’s chest,pulling tight.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?”he breathes,voice tight.“First, you run off with someone to suck their face off ;”—his fingers tighten briefly in Harry’s hair before softening,cradling the back of his head—“and now you’re here,draping yourself all over me.”

A gentle push would bring their mouths together.It’s tempting,far too tempting.

As if sensing the thought,Harry shivers,his hands sliding up to loop more securely around Simon’s neck.His breath brushes against Simon’s lips,close enough to taste.”You were ignoring me,” Harry murmurs, voice soft and accusing.

Just a little closer.

“So you decided to run off with someone else? To what—make me jealous?”

“Are you?” Harry’s voice is quiet,tentative,but there’s something else there—hope,or maybe longing,as if he wants Simon’s answer to be yes.

Simon’s breath catches.“Do you want me to be?”

The tension hangs in the air,heavy and electric,but whatever answer Harry might have given is swallowed by the sound of JJ’s laughter cutting through the haze.Simon snaps back,pulling away hastily as JJ drapes an arm around Josh’s neck,Ethan trailing beside them,oblivious to the moment they’ve interrupted.

Harry looks away first,his expression unreadable as his hands slide into the sanctuary of his hoodie pockets.Simon’s chest aches,but he forces himself to glance at the others,ignoring the steady,traitorous pounding of his heart.

“Friends who fuck sometimes,” Harry had said the first time it happened—a tangle of limbs,whispered names,and fumbling hands in the dark.Simon remembers how Harry had said his name like a prayer,an oath;as he took him in his mouth.He remembers Harry’s moans vibrating through the thin walls of his apartment,how he had come apart on Simon's fingers,stealing his breath away.

And Simon remembers locking eyes with him then,seeing his barely open gaze and thinking he’ll never see a more breathtaking sight in his life.

“Just friends who fuck sometimes.”

But Harry has never been just anything to Simon.And he’s certainly never been just a friend.

“Oi,Simon!Where were you?I swear I just had the weirdest fan interaction ever!”

JJ’s voice yanks him out of the past like a splash of cold water,and Simon falls into step behind them,tucking the memories back where they belong.

The festival noise becomes muffled as they weave through the crowd,heading toward the main event again.Simon keeps his gaze fixed on JJ and Josh,their laughter a comforting,distant hum.

What he and Harry have,despite threatening to drive him crazy with want,is easy.Simple.They get together on lonely nights,they sleep together,Harry leaves in the morning with a vibrant smile,and Simon pines in silence.It’s a routine,one Simon’s learned to live with,even if it feels like carving pieces out of himself every time Harry walks away.

But tonight,Harry coming to him—in the middle of a crowded festival,no less—is anything but simple.

Simon doesn’t know what to do with it.With him.

It’s hours later that JJ,fresh from a fight and weeks of training,decides it’s finally acceptable to call it a night.Of course, not without insisting on just one more shot.

They seperate into groups,Tobi taking responsibility of driving a very inebriated Josh and Vik to hotel,the pair teetering on the edge of consciousness.Steve,JJ’s bodyguard,takes on the task of escorting his boss along with Ethan to the black minivan waiting to whisk them away to the airport.

Simon,an obvious amount less drunk than his sidekick,takes on the unenviable task of ensuring both himself and Harry make it back to their hotel rooms in one piece.It takes some effort—walking a deliberate straight line for Tobi’s scrutinizing gaze before the latter finally relents,leaving Simon to wrangle Harry on his own.

Now,sitting in the back of the taxi with harry all over him,he wished he took anyone other than the idiot for the ride.Draped across him like a lazy cat,Harry’s limbs spill haphazardly over Simon’s thighs,his head tucked against Simon’s neck.His hoodie,soft and warm,smells faintly of cologne and alcohol;and Simon is hyper-aware of every point of contact.

For as much as Harry drifts in and out of consciousness during the ride back,there’s a strange sharpness to him when they finally arrive at the hotel.He stumbles only twice as they make their way through the lobby and into the elevator,leaning heavily on Simon for support but managing to make it in one piece.

The air feels heavier once they’re alone,the faint hum of the elevator filling the silence between them.Harry’s grip tightens slightly,fingers curling into Simon’s jacket,and Simon doesn’t dare to meet his gaze.He knows what’s there—the heat,the tension—and he doesn’t trust himself not to fall into it.Because as much as Simon wants-and god,does he want all the time-he isn’t going to take advantage of Harry in this state;barely holding himself up without help.

By the time Simon unlocks the blond’s hotel room door,Harry is practically vibrating with restless energy.The door has barely swung open before Harry moves,pushing Simon inside with surprising urgency.

“Wait—”Simon starts,but the words die on his lips as Harry’s mouth crashes into his.

The door clicks shut behind them with a soft thud,muffling the world outside.Harry’s hands are everywhere at once,tugging at Simon’s jacket,around his shoulders,threading into his hair.His kiss is hot and messy,the lingering taste of alcohol and something sweet on their tongue.

Simon’s hands fly to Harry’s waist instinctively,steadying them both even as his mind screams at him to pull away.

“Harry,”he breathes against Harry’s mouth,voice strained.“You’re drunk.”

Harry huffs, his lips brushing over Simon’s jaw as he speaks.“So are you.”

It’s a flimsy excuse,and they both know it.Simon,though hazy around the edges,is still steady on his feet.He’s never been one to enjoy the reckless haze that comes with too much alcohol,nor the brutal hangover that follows the next morning.The last time he let himself get so drunk he couldn’t string a thought together had been years ago,and even then,it had been a mistake he swore not to repeat.

Whenever they do this-this thing,it’s always with both of them the same amount of sober,maybe drunk enough for it to sound like a good idea if the first time is counted.But now,even if Harry seems more than happy to continue,Simon knows he needs to stop this.

He doesn’t want to stop.

He can feel the heat of Harry’s body pressed against him,the desperation in the way Harry clings to him like he’s afraid to let go.His grip tightens on the other’s waist,nails,digging into soft skin.

“This—this isn’t a good idea,”Simon manages,his voice faltering as Harry’s teeth graze the sensitive skin just below his ear.

Harry pulls back just enough to meet Simon’s gaze,his eyes unreadable in the dim light.“It’s always a good idea when it’s you,”he murmurs,his words slurred but sincere.

Simon’s heart tugs painfully.

This doesn’t mean anything.He’s drunk.He was kissing another girl two hours ago.

Taking a deep breath,Simon kisses harrys forehead once,lips lingering a second too long.Then he takes a step back,much to Harry’s dismay,if the indignant noise leaving his mouth is anything to go by.

Simon huffs a small laugh,lips quirking up despite himself.He takes Harry’s hands gently,their fingers brushing as he tugs him toward the bathroom. “As much as I’m flattered,”he says,“I really think tomorrow you will thank me for sleeping in clean clothes with a clean mouth.”

Its a struggle,wrestling with Harry’s slumped figure to get him in clean clothes and brushing his teeth,but eventually,he tucks the half sleep moron into bed,a small pill and water on his bedside table for the morning headache.

He’s almost at the door when Harry’s voice cuts through the quiet,soft and strangely vulnerable.

“Aren’t you going to stay?”

Simon closes his eyes,hand frozen on the doorknob.He clenches his other hand by his side,willing himself to keep walking,to ignore the ache in his chest that always blooms when Harry asks for something Simon shouldn’t give.

Stop letting yourself fall more.

“Simon?”

The sound of his name is his undoing.When he turns,Harry’s eyes meet his,wide and unguarded,even in the dim light of the room.They look prettier in the dark,Simon thinks dazedly,and he finds himself walking back into the room,gaze never Harry's.

He tugs off his shoes and socks,shedding his jeans too before sliding into the other side of the bed.It’s foolish,but the look of relief that washes over Harry’s face when Simon settles beside him makes it impossible to regret.

Harry relaxes into the bed,scooting closer until his head rests against Simon’s chest,his breaths evening out as if the simple act of being near Simon has quieted whatever restlessness had kept him awake.

“This okay?”Harry mumbles,voice drowsy,his eyes already falling shut.

Simon swallows hard,his throat tight.“Yeah.” He murmurs,hand lifting and threading gently through strands of soft,blond hair.Harry hums contentedly,his body melting slowly.

Simon closes his eyes,his mind a tangled mess.Maybe he did drink more than he thought.

Harry shifts slightly,hand coming to rest on Simon’s heart.Simon inhales a breath,eyes closing on their own accord.The situation is far from perfect,but for the first time he doesn’t care.Relaxing further into the bed,he secures his arm around the body beside him as he drifts off to the sound of soft snores and visions of blue.