nekare

Do you get to see them often? And ah, one day I'd like to go to Bolivia -- everyone says it's quite pretty. :) (is it, really?)

Fears
Harry/Ron – Ceramic - 327 words

Harry has been touching him lately as if he was made of ceramic, made of clay and ready to tear and crack and break with a mere sigh. Ron hates it, because they’ve been through so much together, and he’s just Ron, Harry’s best mate, and confident. He decides he’s had enough when Harry’s fingers almost drop the bottle of beer they had been sharing at the smallest of touches.

“Just what is wrong with you?” Ron asks, infuriated, setting the bottle back to the small coffee table with a thud and a bit of splashing.

“What do you mean?” asks back Harry, defensive. He swallows, not quite meeting Ron’s eyes and Ron knows Harry is quite aware of what the question is about.

Ron gets closer and pokes Harry between the third and fourth rib, and Harry jumps away as if his fingers had burnt him. “That! It’s like you’re too disgusted to touch me!”

“It’s nothing, Ron, really.” Harry turns away from him, stares back into the telly with his arms crossed across his chest. Hours pass, Ron trying to get an answer out of him and Harry sinking into the couch as if wanting to disappear with a frown on his face.

“Just tell me already!” shouts Ron after a while, fed up with the uncertainty, and Harry turns to finally face him, panting with anger.

“Fine,” he says sharply, grabs Ron’s hand between his hands and kisses him, quick and hard. He breaks apart after only a few second, red-faced but still furious. “That is why I’m afraid to touch you.”

Ron sits in the same place, eyes wide, as Harry stands up, gets his jacket and goes out the flat banging the door. He remembers how to breathe, somehow, and finishes the beer with in a single sip.

“Oh,” he says after a while to the muted voices from the news, and lays back in the couch, wanting to kiss Harry again.