Harry has become a better friend (Patreon)

So, I only just realized that I have this saved under sad!harry and that is not what I was calling it. This is the third part of the fic where Harry gets cheated on and realizes that maybe he has not been that great of a friend :) 

part 1 

part 2 

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iii.

“What’s with you lately?”

Y/N’s squinted, wary gaze is proof alone that his sudden renewal of what it means to be a good friend to her, had been suspected three weeks in. He guesses it was about time for her to grow suspicious of him, which only makes his heart ache -- for her to be suspicious, means that he hadn’t ever treated her this well and if there’s one thing Harry’s gathered from what he’d been doing it’s that Y/N deserves the world. 

It was simple: boy meets girl, boy falls in love, friend tells boy that girl is cheating on him, boy accuses friend of lying because of her feelings for him, girl was actually cheating on him, and friend collects the pieces of his broken spirit and weaves them back together. Boy becomes hyper-aware of how wonderfully friend has always treated him and how he might not have been putting forth as much into their friendship as he should have been. Not only that, boy also realizes that she puts forth so much effort into every relationship she has with every person and rarely ever gets the same back. So, boy makes it his own personal goal and burning passion to show friend how beautiful of a person she is and pour as much love into her as boy is able to conjure. 

Harry had spent the last three weeks tirelessly kissing the ground she walked on. He cooked her intricate meals with ingredients he knew she liked and baked her goodies that she could devour in a single sitting. A few times he went to her flat and cleaned for her, which she had done a few times for him (once when he was completely stressed over an exam, Y/N snuck in when he was taking a stress nap and deep cleaned his entire flat to take away some of the worry -- “it’s better to study in a clean flat, innit babe? Clean flat, clean head, you’ll get a better grade this way”). Harry was taking her on ventures that he would have typically complained about -- geode hunting in muddy creeks, haunted mansion tours, they even tackled a dance lesson together (they were both shits, it was something Y/N had always wanted to try). 

He’s certain in the long period of their friendship, Harry had not seen Y/N so lively. So smiley, happy, and exuding even more warmth than normal. It makes him feel like complete, and wholehearted shit that he had not been giving her this prior to these past weeks, but endlessly happy that he was at least giving her all that she deserved now. And to see her so joyful and exuberant for the day? He thinks it could even make the devil soften right up.

And the best part of it? Of every fun thing that they do, Harry believes the greatest part of his night is when they go back to her flat, and whether it be midday or a little further into the evening, they both take showers, climb into bed and Y/N just snuggles him. She’s always snuggled but these snuggles are just. . .different. They are far more . . . unrestrained, if that made any sense. If they cuddled before it was for one of two reasons: one of them was sad and a proper cuddle was necessary to lift their spirits, or they were sharing a bed and at some point in the night Harry (though he blames Y/N for it) wriggles their way onto the other side and the other accommodates them accordingly. 

But these cuddles -- Y/N initiates them without thought. The first time she’d done it had been after a Bob Ross-esque painting class together that she had wanted to do for a long time but most of their friends (including Harry) had been reluctant to for a variety of reasons (the biggest being none of them were really good at art and it was a hunk of change to participate in -- nobody wanted to pay to probably do a bad painting). When he had shown her the reservations through a message, Y/N called him immediately, “You better not be fucking with me because that would be really, so, so, so mean and you know it.” 

They went and had such a good time -- they both were better at art than originally thought but Harry thinks he would have had fun even if they mucked it because he was with Y/N (and anything he did with Y/N made him inexplicably happy) -- but the class had started at 8 AM on the dot. They thought maybe spending the night together would be smart so they could wake each other up but all it did was make the both of them stay up far too late. So running on three hours of sleep, they groggily got ready and headed out only to return about four hours later after stopping by a waffle house to fill their rumbling stomachs. 

Once they had gotten back to Harry’s flat, they trudged up to his door, through the door, and toward his bedroom both knowing that they were about to take the nap of a lifetime. Only where they usually just start out on either side of the bed and eventually make their way to each other in a sleepy haze, as soon as Harry lays down in his bed beside her, Y/N rolled her way right over to him. She lifted his arm manually, wrapped it around her shoulders, and pressed her cheek up against his chest. “Rub my arm?” She had questioned and Harry complied immediately, wondering if she could hear how quickly his heart was beating. 

Y/N fell asleep much quicker than she normally did. Her body sunk into his side and gentle snores lifted from the soft curve of her mouth. It made Harry feel. . .it made him feel warm, and not just for the fact that the heat of her body radiated beneath the cover that they were swallowed in. His insides felt mushy as she nestled her face against his chest, and when he shifted, her sleeping form would move to hold him tighter, closer, a small pout that formed her lips made his heart ache. She’d always been cute to him, in the way that any of your friends might be cute, but she was. . .Y/N was cute, wasn’t she? Soft, gentle, warm and cute. 

And he’d never seen her in such a calm state, he doesn’t think.

So cuddles became a regular occurrence, nine times out of ten Harry was the one to initiate it. If they were watching something together if Y/N was reading and he finished whatever he was working on, if they both had a strenuous, long day or if they were mutually exhausted from something they had done together. Harry would drag Y/N close, swallow her up in his arms, and they would both easily melt into one another happily. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever woken up from naps feeling more refreshed than groggy, but he also doesn’t think he’s ever slept as well. Typically if he’s in bed with someone, he is tense, wondering what they might be thinking of him, if maybe they aren’t comfortable with him, if they were pretending to be resting or if as soon as he fell asleep himself they would slip out of the bed unannounced. Which only led him to not getting any rest at all, his brain a constant loop of hesitance and nerves. 

However, with Y/N -- like all things -- it was so much easier. Harry didn’t have to worry about anything because she pressed to his side and fell asleep heavy enough to snore a little sometimes. Dare he says a spike of jealousy slithers through him at the idea that anyone but him had gotten to see this side of her. Even more so, the Y/N who had just woken up, with puffy eyes, face flushed, cheeks warm. When she knuckles at her eyes tiredly and presses up from the mattress, but her hand rests on his tummy like she isn’t quite ready to let go of him yet. Her voice is croaky, it cuts off mid-word before she clears her throat, “G’morning, sleepyhead,” she always greeted him, one eye fluttering closed against the light of the room, “Did you rest well? Are you hungry? Think I’ll make somethin’ to eat.” 

It was the seventh time they cuddled that Harry gave thought to kissing her. Her lips looked soft, inviting, and warm. How would it feel for them to have that with each other? To smooth their mouths together and soak each other in that way. Would she open up her lips for him, let his tongue flitter into her mouth, and slide against hers? It would feel good. . .she would feel so good -- she did feel so good. And Harry hates himself for kissing her, knowing good and well he had done it because he was sad and he thought she would only reciprocate it without question. 

For the few moments that he had it, it had left a lasting impression to say the least -- even in his sad, melancholy state. And after the first time, he’d had the thought again, it only continued to pervade his mind. Like a mushroom cloud, starting small and fanning outward, encompassing every segment of his brain. When she’s cuddled with him, when she’s eating across from him, when she is dancing obnoxiously and awfully to a song blaring through his speakers, or looking like a soaked rat in her coat after a heavy rain -- he wants to plant one on her. 

The most frustrating bit of it is that he has never really had this problem with anyone else before. If Harry wants to kiss someone to this caliber, chances are they’re in a relationship and he can do so if he pleases. But Y/N -- what happens if he kisses her? Does she stop him again and blame it on his whirlwind, post-breakup emotions? Would she kiss him back? Maybe seeing how torn up he got about Cora had put her off from him? 

And this only proved to further the overwhelming feeling he’d procured to be better to her. It nearly puts him in overdrive, actually, because now every time he comes to see her, he has gifts for her -- things that he saw at a store that he thought she might like, food that he thought she might eat, and clothes he thinks she might wear. He massages her back when she looks like she might be sore (she would never ask him for it), draws light circles around her ear, along the tender skin of her neck before naps to lull her to sleep -- hell, he even begins showing up at her place after his class on Mondays and Wednesdays so that he can beat her to her flat and start up a bath for her so she could sink into it immediately once she gets home (because Mondays and Wednesdays were her long days, she woke up for class at 8 AM and didn’t come back from campus until around 5 PM). He’d even taken to pushing chaste kisses to her temple when he could chance to steal them, though those were more so reserved for when she was half awake and too tired to question him, or when they were hugging, and he could peck her before jumping into a different conversation. 

However, he had not been getting away with it like he thought he was. Not at all, actually, because when Y/N woke up and wandered down to Harry’s kitchen, only to see that he had a recipe pulled up on his computer screen for cinnamon roll pancakes (something she had wanted to try but did not have the patience to do) -- that’s when she questions him. 

“What’s with you lately?”  

Harry had craned his neck to the side to get a look at her as he finished stacking a tower of three pancakes on a plate beside poached eggs and buttered toast, “Hm?” He played stupid, “There’s nothing like some pancakes on a Friday morning, Babes.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he could hear her feet pad against the cold kitchen tiles, and in the most Y/N like manner she could, she slides up beside him and supports herself against the counter as her post-slumber haze makes her feel heavier. Her gaze burns holes into his sides as he attempts desperately to ignore her, face warming considerably as he fixes the third pancake atop of the stack, “You’ve been awful kind to me lately. Is there something I don’t know about? You place a hit on me and you’re feeling guilty?” 

He snorts, shaking his head, “You’ve got such a colorful imagination you know that?” 

She ignores him, reaching out and pokes at the side of his face, “Go on, n’tell me what it’s about then, hm?” 

He should have known better than to think Y/N would accept this sort of thing blindly and without question. Yeah, maybe she let it go on for a little while, but after a month? He was bound to get questioned sooner or later -- honestly, he is more surprised that it took her this long to notice anything was different. 

Harry merely shrugs his shoulders, “Dunno, just -- “ He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous -- it was Y/N, he just had to be honest. Maybe he could hold his tongue about the whole wanting to kiss her bit, but otherwise, he could tell her the truth, “Reckon you deserve a lot of things that you don’t get, y’know? You’re such a good friend, I just wanted to give you some of the same treatment.”

He spares a glance at her and she finds her lips are pouted, and her face has softened from the accusatory glare that had once been set upon it. Her hand finds a place at his shoulders where she squeezes him gently, “You’ve been a good friend, dummy -- you don’t have to do all this stuff to be good in my eyes.” 

His brows furrowed and his head snapped towards her, “Are you mad? I was horrible!” He exclaimed and Y/N’s own brows raise, genuine confusion pulling at her features, “You do nothing but care for me, and worry over me, and make sure I’m good. You did stuff like this -- cutesy little things without rhyme or reason, and I -- what did I do? Accused you of lying about Cora cheating on me ‘cos you might have had feelings for me? What kind of shit thing was that?” 

“While I admit that wasn’t the best reaction, you still --” she begins, reaching out to touch her finger in the batter.

“No,” he cuts her off, grabs her by the wrist, his fingers looping easily around her as he turns so he faces her more full-on, “I’ve been a shit friend, and I’m making it up to you, so that’s that, don’t question me anymore about it.” 

He hadn’t meant to get so worked up about it -- he still isn’t even really sure why he did, but he had, and Y/N looked just as startled by it as he was himself, “Hey,” she begins, stretching out her fingers of the hand that he held, the other slides carefully to his face for a moment, “It’s okay, yeah? Didn’t mean to upset you, I just wanted to know. . .I don’t mind it,” she tells him, a small, reassuring smile at her mouth as she thumbs against the soft skin of his cheek, “To tell you the truth, you’ve been pampering me so much, I felt guilty for not being able to do you the same. Just feels like you’re always one step ahead of me.” 

Harry reaches up and cups her hand to his faces, letting his eyes flutter closed as he huffed quietly through his nose, “You’re just good -- you’re really good,” he murmurs, “You deserve the whole world, and if I could -- if I could give that to you I would.” 

Harry only realizes once it's left his mouth, that maybe that’s not something a friend says to another friend. 

And maybe -- just maybe -- he realizes that he’s got something other than platonic love for her swimming around his body.