It's not ok.

The plane ride was nothing memorable, the chauffeur was kind enough, despite my attempts to hurry him. I barely register the walk up to Harry's room and all I can think is that I need to be there. The door is unlocked and the room is seemingly empty. I almost turn around when I hear a sob coming from the far side of the room, and a few stray curls peeking from the top of the queen bed. I walk quietly, not wanting to startle him, and as I turn the corner tears leap into my eyes.

He's wearing a pair of black boxers, and I know by now that it is ok to look at him in them. He is not embarrassed of his body. He has his head in his hands and is sobbing uncontrollably, his legs bent up to create a shell around him.

"Harry?" I ask tentatively, and it only makes him sobs harder. I kneel donw in from of him and gingerly take his muscled arms in my hands, gently pulling them away from his face. His breath hitches and he tries, as hard as he possibly can,  not to cry. But the tears keep streaming down his face, once again betraying him. I wonder idly how it is that despite the fact his features are contorted from crying, how he can possibly look handsome in this state. 

I smile at him, and pull his wrists down from his face. "Hey. I'm here now. I'm here." The sobs rack his body from within and it is heartbreaking to watch, but I keep the smile on. In a more serious tone, I ask what is wrong, and he just shakes his head and cries more. So eventually we just sit, looking at each other, until his breathing becomes more normal, and his eyes stop dripping like a faucet. 

"I'm s-sorry" He chokes out, and my heart flips. I didn't know how bad he needed me until I heard the words. 

"You don't need to be, I'm just sorry I couldn't get here sooner..." I trail off as he shakes his head. 

"N-no. I'm sorry, but I broke it."

"Broke what?"

"My promise." He says, and starts sobbing again. My heart practically stops beating. 

I take him by the shoulders and ask him what he did. He just cries more and I shake him harder, half yelling at him.

"What did you do, Harry? What did you do. Did you take anything? Drink something? What did you DO?!"

And he just shakes his head vigorously, stammering out a "No." I relax the tiniest bit and sit next to him, combing his hair from his eyes, wiping the tears away. The eventually stop, and his breathing is normal, and he lays his head against mine as we sit in silence. After what seems like hours, I look at him again, and break the quiet shield. 

"Eventually you will have to tell me." I say, and he nods. He sits back up and straightens his legs out, and I gasp at what I see. Angry red cuts line his thighs, sticky blood running down them, soaking his boxers. I make a move to go get supplies to clean it and he grabs my arm, pulling me back down to him. 

"Did it hurt bad?" Confusion passes his eyes and I raise an eyebrow. 

"Sorry. I expected you to hate me. That's why I couldn't tell you right away. I couldn't stand the thought of you hating me. But no, it didn't hurt bad. I wish it had."

I look at him one last time before pulling him down so that he could lay in my lap. 

"You aren't going to say anything? No 'it's ok, it'll all be fine's'?"

"No, Harry. Not this time."

"Why?" Fear lines his voice.

"Because it obviously isn't fine, or ok. It's just not. All I can say is that I'm here. I'm here for you." He breathes a sigh of relief, and we sit together for more hours, comfortable in silence, until we both fall asleep. At least I thought he was asleep. But just as I am about to lose consciousness, I feel a light peck at my lips, and the heat of Harry's body next to mine. I decide against opening my eyes, because he obviously waited until I was asleep to do it. 

"I love you." He whispers. And I am gone.

The End

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