zinnia (gaisei central)

“Your hand is so much bigger than mine.”

“Yeah, only because you’re not measuring right.” Urbain shifts his hand against hers, placing their palms flush against one another. “See? They’re basically the same size.”

“Your hand is still bigger than mine, though.”

His hand is barely bigger than hers. And, depending on how it’s look at, Harmony’s fingers seem longer than Urbain’s if they take into consideration the length of her well cared for and lilac painted nails. Their hands are very much similarly sized; Urbain’s hand is only the tad bit bigger than Harmony’s, and that’s most likely due to the fact that he’s ever so slightly taller than her. And that’s a very recent development! Two years ago, she was still taller than him and she made sure to point it out to him every time the occasion presented itself.

Their hands are basically the same size; Urbain’s heart drops as fingers slip through his. He’s choking, panicking, as they curl around his palm. He’s staring in pure bewilderment as giggles fill the air. This is fine. This is normal. This is just Harmony.

Urbain needs to remind himself that that is just how she is. Harmony has always been big on physical touch. She’s always been this way, with everybody. So Urbain needs to remind himself of that and of the fact that they are just friends. They’ve always been friends, and this is no different from the other times they’ve held hands, though, admittedly, the last time they had held hands, they were still children and Harmony’s parents had forced them to stay like that the whole day at the amusement park out of fear of losing one of them. And no, it’s not weird that Urbain still vividly remembers the last time they had held hands. It’s a completely normal thing to remember.

It’s been years since the last time they’ve been in this position, palms pressed together. It’s been years; is Urbain supposed to mirror Harmony’s movements? He’s not quite certain if he should close his fingers around hers. He’s not sure what the point of any of this is; Harmony is not giving him any signs of how to act. She’s just giggling to herself, not even sparing him a glance. She’s giggling, her cheeks pink from the laughter, looking pretty as ever. Maybe, just maybe, Urbain should follow her lead. It’s slow, careful, but nonetheless, very deliberate; Urbain’s fingers curl around Harmony’s. No matter what, it’s objectively less awkward to be caught holding hands than having her hold his while he’s caught there, fingers spread, awkward and stiff.

Maybe Harmony will pull back. Maybe she’ll call him weird, or worse, obsessed with her or something like that. Maybe she’s doing this just to make fun of him. Urbain has no idea what her motives are, but what he does know is that she isn’t saying anything, nor is she doing anything. She just stays there, her fingers tight around his; neither one dare move even though Urbain knows he should pull back before things get weird. He should probably put an end to this who thing, but he’s frozen in place; he doesn’t have the slightest clue of how to act. His brain is screaming to walk away, but instead, he just stares at Harmony, Harmony who is smiling at him, her grin wide and proud.

“See?” She’s practically beaming. “They fit perfectly together!” She steps closer, still grinning and tightening her grip. “Because we’re perfect together.”

Now, Urbain knows for a fact that Harmony is just teasing him. That is one thing he is certain of since he knows that they are very far from perfect, individually and collectively. As individuals, they’re anything but perfect, and together, they’re a complete mess, not that they are together! Because saying that they’re together implies something that is absolutely not there! They’re friends! Best of friends, but very much only friends! They’re always just been friends! And anyway, it’s not like Harmony has ever or will ever look at Urbain as anything other than her best friend since grade school. He’s just that one guy that hands out at her place every other day and who accidentally called her father “dad” once and wanted to crawl under a rock and die for the longest time. Urbain really is just Harmony’s best friend; after all, she has insisted enough times to her own friends that he’s basically like a brother to her since they grew up together and all that jazz. It’d be weird if he was anything other than her best friends.

Really, Urbain should pull his hand away. He has to be the one to put this whole farce to rest, because Harmony’s not going to put an end to whatever teasing she’s started. If Urbain was smart, he’d just walk away from this whole thing before managing to get his hopes up for nothing. There’s no point in staying like this, but he knows himself too well. He knows he cannot for the life of him pull away from Harmony. Never will he be able to walk away from whatever danger she’s pulling him into. The only thing he knows himself capable of doing is going along with whatever charade she’s put on, stepping foot into the flames that will engulf him. He will regret it all, but still, he’s leaning closer, scrunching his nose and smiling at the girl.

“Y’know, you could’ve just asked to hold my hand if you wanted to so badly.”

The girl huffs before bumping her forehead against his as laughter bubbles out of Urbain. He’s snorting for no apparent reason as Harmony also giggles, her laughter much prettier than any sound Urbain is making. They’re both laughing, their hands still pressed together. They’re laughing like no one else exists; they stand in the middle of the hall, their fingers laced together like this is a completely normal thing for them to be doing before their final period of the day.

They probably should let go of one another. People are probably staring; realistically, no one is looking. Urbain is most definitely not very high in the high school social hierarchy, but Harmony, however, is pretty up there. Everyone knows her name, and she makes friends easily, getting invited to parties thrown by people Urbain has never spoken to. Harmony, unlike Urbain, is just constantly surrounded by people that he can barely remember the names of. So, while he has nothing to lose to be caught with his fingers intertwined with Harmony’s, she has everything to lose from being seen with Urbain. She can lose it all from being seen with someone as lowly as Urbain; maybe, just maybe, for her sake, Urbain should pull back, create some distance between the two, not let anyone get the wrong idea of where they stand. Maybe, just maybe, he should step away from her; Harmony’s fingers tighten around his, pulling him closer as he begins to pull back.

“Harms—”

“Did’ya wanna go to the mall later? My mom needs me to pick stuff up for her and I kinda was hoping you’d drive me there?”

A sigh breaks from Urbain’s lips. Of course he’ll drive her; any opportunity to spend time with Harmony is a good one. He can’t refuse her anything; he’s not even strong enough to pull his hand away from hers, his hand that he knows is starting to get sweaty and gross. So instead of doing the smart thing and unlacing his fingers from hers, he just gives her hand another squeeze before nodding. He nods as Harmony grins that blinding smile of hers, now swinging their hands around like a little kid. Really, he truly is just so terribly weak to Harmony.

“In that case,” her hand is warm like summer against Urbain’s arm, and it’s just as soft as the one still flush against is own, a hand he’s starting to scarily get used to holding, “I’ll catch you later?”

“I’ll text you as soon as I’m done so we can head out together.”

If there’s one thing Urbain is certain about, it’s that it’s so easy being around Harmony. There is nothing easier than being around the girl who pushes herself up onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Truly, there are only a few certainties in this world, but this, he knows will never change: Harmony will always be his very best friend. She will always be the one he goes to when he’s lovely or bored. She will always be the one he looks for in a crowd. She will forever be the one that he trusts above all.

Urbain blinks a few times in the darkness. He’s not sure if his eyes are playing tricks on him, but as he approached the worn-out armchairs in the corner of his room, those old chairs he had lugged in all those years ago when AZ had wanted to replace them with something a little nicer, he is certain of what he’s seeing: Harmony curled up on herself, her neck in a weird position as she snores softly into the green velvet. She’s pulled her jacket over herself as a makeshift blanket; she’s shifting again as Urbain slowly approaches her, afraid of startling her awake.

“Harms?”

Her name floats in the air as Urbain quietly crouches next to her. She’s pulling her jacket closer to her face, covering most of it; her knees have been pulled in again, her feet looking for fabric to cover them but failing to find anything. And as Urbain calls her name again, gently placing a hand on her shoulder, Harmony finally stirs awake. Her eyes flutter open, a sleep hum breaking from her lips; it would be a lie to say she doesn’t look adorable in this light.

“Harms?”

“What time is it?”

It’s 3 in the morning, almost 4, obviously way too early to be awake, but Urbain doesn’t mention that last part. He’s almost forgotten about the pounding in his skull, or the nauseating dryness of his throat; he’s far more preoccupied by Harmony jolting up, her head snapping left and right as she takes in her surroundings. She seems disoriented, more so than Urbain was when he first woke up in his bed. Her normally laser-sharp gray eyes seem hazy and distant; she looks like she has no idea where she is sitting at the moment.

“I’m—” Harmony’s voice comes out as a squeak, something fragile and on the verge of shattering. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—I just—Well… I didn’t want you to die so I thought I’d stay a little longer and I guess I just…”

Urbain shakes his head. Harmony doesn’t need to explain herself. It doesn’t really matter as to why she’s there; all that matters is that she looks sore from having fallen asleep on that on that old chair that Urbain knows is uncomfortable despite its deceivingly plush-looking velvet cushioning.

“Wanna take my bed?”

It’s Harmony’s turn to blink. She’s staring at Urbain like he’s just suggested robbing the Rust Syndicate or setting the Quasartico Inc. building on fire. She’s looking at him like he’s absolutely lost his mind, like he’s spewing absolute nonsense to her.

“I can just…”

She’s pointing at the door. Her hands are moving non-stop, that nervous tick Urbain has picked up on weeks ago. She’s fidgeting until she freezes completely; sure, she could easily go back to her own room, sink into her own mattress, the one that has probably taken to the shape of her body over the months she’s spent sleeping in it, but a reckless part of Urbain’s brain doesn’t let her leave. He’s acting foolish; he’s curling his fingers around Harmony’s outstretched hand.

“I really don’t mind. And…” Oh, oh now is not the time to get nervous; he started this nonsense, so he better stick to it. “If it makes you more comfortable, I can always take the chair. I just… I don’t want you waking up in a few hours with a weird pain.”

Harmony is shaking her head. She’s shaking it too fast, her hair whipping around and making Urbain ever so slightly nauseous. Thankfully, she’s slowing down. Thankfully, she’s stopping as her eyes fall onto his face, the slightest curve of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Bashful and beautiful. Harmony looks absolutely gorgeous with the moonlight gently illuminating her face.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to make sure you’re okay, not the other way around.” Her laughter is like shooting stars, mesmerizing and special. “It’s not my fault you decided to be an absolute idiot and get wasted and now I’m stuck making sure you don’t die!”

That’s more like it.  There’s the Harmony Urbain knows and adores. There’s the girl that will take a jab at anything she possibly can. And Urbain deserves it. He was, after all, a complete idiot for drinking as much as he did. However, he’s not dropping this. He’s not letting her get all bent out of shape because he was stupid for one night.

“Harms.” Her cheek is warm as his finger grazes it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her fingers curl around Urbain’s, his hand not having moved away from hers yet. “Really, you can take the bed. I changed the sheets like two days ago if that’s what—”

“No! No, no. No, that’s not it! It’s just… I mean, it’s your bed. You should be the one sleeping in it. Not me.”

“But I don’t want you to be sore in the morning because of me.”

Harmony sighs as she pulls her hand back. The point of contact goes cold, leaving Urbain itching to reach back out to the girl, but thankfully he resists the urge to do so. He can’t go pushing his luck; he can’t afford to drive Harmony away.

She’s a little wobbly as she pushes herself out of the armchair. Urbain is back on his feet, taking a step back and watching her move through the room. She’s dragging her feet across the carpet; she’s pressing a knee into the soft mattress as she rearranges the pillows Urbain has tossed aside, preferring to use only one pillow for himself. He watches as she arranges them, splitting the mattress in half and creating a barrier right down the middle; he watches as she finally lets her body curl up under the covers, her head melting into a pillow she’s clinging onto.

Maybe he should just set up camp on the chair Harmony had been sleeping on. Maybe he should just let her take the bed; the last thing he wants to do is make the girl uncomfortable. Urbain can deal with a few hours on the armchair; it’s already dipped into the shape of his body from how often he finds himself sunken into it, looking over emails and other documents Vinnie has sent his way. He’s used to the ache in his lower back, or the constant pressure of that one spring that always finds a way to poke him in the exact same spot on his thigh. It wouldn’t be much different from all the other times he’s fallen asleep in this chair, but just as he’s lowering his body into the cushion, Harmony is sitting back up in bed. She’s rubbing her eyes, but still, her gaze is locked onto Urbain.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Sit…ting?”

Harmony tilts her head and Urbain knows she’s annoyed by his answer. It was, in fact, the wrong answer; Urbain doesn’t have a good answer for her. Or he does, but also, if he voices it, he doesn’t want to end up arguing with the girl or driving her away. Harmony has been nothing but kind to him and he doesn’t want to send her on her way after everything she’s done for him. He wants her to be comfortable and rested by the time the sun comes up.

“But why?”

Something flips in Urbain’s stomach; it sinks in that Harmony is all bundled up in his bed. She’s sitting up, her head ever so slightly tilted to the side, her fingers curled around the fluffy duvet. She’s staring at him, waiting, expecting an answer. What answer could she possibly be waiting for?

“I mean… I just…”

“Your hangover is going to hate you even more if you don’t get your ass to bed asap.”

Pushy. Harmony is pushy. But then again, so is Urbain. He’s the one who insisted on giving her the bed. He’s the one who insisted on her staying her despite her room being only a few steps away. Urbain is the one who put himself in this situation; he might as well get a grip on himself and commit.

His heart is pounding as he pushes himself out of the chair. It’s racing; it’s making him ever so slightly nauseous. And as he finally makes it back to his bed, makes it back to where he was just a few minutes ago, the reality settles. He really hadn’t thought this through, but he’s here now. He’s here and he will not be anywhere else.

The mattress dips under his weight; has it always been this soft? Or is it just that it is not made to support the weight of two people? Urbain’s never had anyone other than himself on his mattress; even when all of Team MZ hangs out, it’s never in his room. But whatever. It can deal with a few hours of this. It can survive his weight and the weight of Harmony’s body curled up to his right.

Is she still curled up under the blanket? Is she comfortable? Surely, if she wasn’t she’d shift until she found a comfortable position. But then again, Urbain has no idea how Harmony sleeps; why would he? Why in the world would he know how Harmony sleep? Sure, they’ve fallen asleep on the couch downstairs while marathoning a show, but they never stay asleep very long and they both always wake up with weird aches. He has no idea how Harmony sleeps, how she arranges her pillows, or how she gets comfortable. She—

“Did you mean what you said?”

 Urbain flips to his side. He’s staring at the pile of pillows Harmony has set up, the barrier that keeps him from her. He’s staring right at it; if he stares long enough, maybe he’ll see right through it. Maybe he’ll see the girl lying right next to him. And maybe he’ll have an answer for her.

“What?”

“Never mind then.”

Harmony’s voice is low and muffled, like she doesn’t want him to hear her. Except Urbain is not letting this go. He wants to know what she’s referring to. He wants to give her a truthful answer. He wants to know what’s going through that beautiful head of hers.

She really is curled up under the blanket. Her knees seem pressed against her chest as she stares at the wall. Her head is still sunken into the last pillow she’s kept, the only one that isn’t part of the wall Urbain has scaled, his elbows dipping deep into their fluff. And she seems so small there, curled around the pillow. She seems almost… fragile.

“Harms,” she shakes him off as his fingers graze her shoulder, “I…  I have said so many things tonight. I need you to be more specific.”

“It’s nothing.” She doesn’t even look at him as she speaks. “Never mind.” Her voice wavers. “It’s not important.”

Clearly, it is important. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have brought it up at now 4 in the morning. If it wasn’t important, she would have waited until the morning, or just never brought it up. There is something that is bothering her and Urbain wants to get to the bottom of it. There’s something that’s bothering her, and as Urbain watches Harmony, watches the way she buries her face deeper into her pillow, watches the way she pulls it closer like her shoulders are about to start shaking, he can’t help but think of one single thing that might have her in such a state. He’s said a lot of stupid things in the last few hours, but one stands out more than the others. One thing personally involves Harmony, for better or for worse.

“Is this about the whole marriage thing? Because look, I—”

“I said it’s nothing.”

When’s the last time she’s snapped at him? When’s the last time he’s seen her snap at anyone, actually? Even when she’s annoyed, Harmony is not usually this blunt and cold. Never has her voice sent an icy chill down Urbain’s spine. Never has she had him worry about what might come next. But now, watching her remain perfectly still, staring at the wall opposite of her, Urbain is worried. He’s worried, but he knows better than to actually drop the subject. If he drops it, what comes next? Will there be a next time?

“And I was about to say that I don’t want to ruin what we have just because I can’t keep my feelings to myself.”

Harmony finally flips over. Her gray eyes seem puffy, though Urbain cannot tell if it’s from the fatigue if she had been silently crying into her pillow. If she was crying, he hates himself for that; he doesn’t want to be the reason Harmony is crying. He wants nothing more than her happiness. He wants her smiling and laughing and being her brightest, truest self. That’s what he adores about her; she’s everything he wishes he could be. He aspires to be as strong and brave and bright as her. He wants to be near her and every single one of her smiles.

The silence is awkward, to say the least. At least, while he was drunk out of his mind, Urbain could blame the alcohol. He had already messed up, it’s too late to back out of that, but now he’s doubled down on that mess. He’s basically blurted out to her that he is, in fact, truly in love with her. He’s confirmed to her that he did mean the things he has said, that he does adore her more than anyone in the world, and lying about that would only make everything so much worse. Lying about how he feels about her is far worse than fessing up. Lying would completely shatter whatever they had built until now, not that his confession is doing wonders to their friendship.

It’s been awhile since the last time Urbain has felt this tense. He doesn’t dare move; his eyes are still locked onto Harmony, Harmony who is still sunken deep into his mattress. He doesn’t dare make any sudden movements; he’s just waiting for the moment Harmony will push herself out of his bed and leave, because why would she stay? Why would she continue sharing a bed with someone who has just admitted being unable to keep the lines between friendship and romance unblurred? If he’s admitting such a thing, what else is Urbain going to say to her? How else is he going to ruin everything? Because he has ruined everything; if Harmony is asking him if he meant what he said, then it must be because she doesn’t feel the same way as him.

“Look,” Urbain flops back down onto his side of the bed, letting the mountain of pillows hide him away, “it was stupid and selfish of me to have put all of that on you. I should have kept it down—just like the alcohol—but it’s too late to dwell on that now, isn’t it? So yeah.” He needs to stop talking; he’s just digging his grave deeper, but he cannot stop. The words keep just coming out. “Yeah, I’ve had a crush on you since the day we met, but you know what? That doesn’t matter!” The corners of his eyes are burning and blurring. This is stupid and painful. “What matters is that you’re my very best friend and I’ve never had anyone like you before and—”

“You want to marry me.”

The answer is simple. It’s obvious. It’s stupid.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Urbain.” Urbain’s eyes meet Harmony’s, Harmony who is looking down at him. She’s staring at him with this intense look in her eyes, a look he’s only ever seen her wear when she’s on the battlefield. She’s staring at him; he can’t help but avert his gaze. He’s staring at his wardrobe; Harmony’s hand finds his burning cheek, forcing him to look at her once more. “If you could, would you marry me? Yes or no?”

It’s an unfair question, and she knows it. She knows his answer, but it’s the wrong answer. It’s not the answer she wants to hear. It’s not something one is supposed to tell their friend. Because that’s what they are: friends. Urbain is Harmony’s friend and he cannot afford to lose this friendship because he couldn’t swallow his feelings down. Or maybe he swallowed them down too much and then it all came out at the most inopportune of times.

So he has his answer, it’s the wrong answer, but he cannot lie to her.

“I—"

Yes. He would marry her. He would marry her in a heartbeat. But instead, he’s ruining everything. He’s ruining a perfectly good friendship.

“Yeah. The answer is y—”

Urbain’s eyes grow wide before squeezing them shut. Maybe he’s still drunk. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe none of this is real. Except, it has to be real. It has to be real as his fingers tangle with Harmony’s hair, pulling her in once more as she breaks away from him. It has to be real as her soft lips meet his again. It has to be real as she leans down once more, carelessly tossing the pillow barrier away. Everything has to be real as a warm body presses against Urbain’s; everything has to be real as his head spins, the kiss suddenly deepened.

Nothing makes sense; Urbain is running on adrenaline alone. His brain is three steps behind his body’s movements; Harmony is flipped onto her back, melting into the mattress as she pulls him closer to her. She looks like an angel, her hair a halo against the pillow, her song divine as Urbain pulls at the soft skin of her neck. Fingers curl around each other; a palm is pressed down into the bed. Urbain should probably stop, pull away, talk about everything, but he can’t bring himself to put an end to it all. At least not until he has to break away from Harmony to catch his breath.

Urbain’s chest heaves. Harmony’s free arm is still hooked around his neck, ready to pull him down once more. Their noses are practically touching; they’re both staring at each other, probably wondering the same thing: what the hell was that? Slowly, carefully, Urbain releases his grip on Harmony’s hand; she, in turn, slowly moves her leg away from him, unhooking her foot from his calf. Neither one wants to move; both know they cannot stay like this. Someone has to say something.

“I—”

“Look—”

Silence once more. Then laughter. Genuine laughter. Awkward, but true. So much laughter as Urbain buries his face against Harmony’s shoulder. So much loud, obnoxious laughter as she wraps her arms around him. At this rate, they’re going to wake their friends, but Lida and Naveen are the last things on their minds right now. At least, they’re the last things on Urbain’s mind; nothing but Harmony and what just happened is spinning in his brain, a brain that feels like putty in his skull.

“Sorry, sorry.” His laughter finally calms; his cheek is pressed against her collarbone. “You first.”

“I was just gonna say…” Harmony’s arms tighten around Urbain as she buries her nose in his hair. “I can’t give you an answer for the marriage thing yet, but if you’re willing to take me out this weekend, then I can say yes to that.”

A smile is pressed to Harmony’s jaw. A smile and a kiss, and another kiss that pulls giggles from the girl, and another kiss that has her shoving Urbain back to his side of the bed. Urbain wants to do nothing but pepper her face in kisses; he wants nothing more than to press a kiss to every freckle that adorns her skin. He wants to make up for all the kisses he’s lost to his cowardice; he should have asked her out so much sooner.

“Harmony,” the smile won’t go away as he slips his fingers through hers again, “would you like to go out with me next Saturday? Let me take you out on a proper date? Just you and me?”

More giggles erupt from the girl who buries her face in her pillow. She’s nodding and laughing and she looks absolutely breathtakingly adorable. She’s beautiful and mesmerizing as she peeks out from plush shield; she’s even more gorgeous as she moves closer to him, pressing herself to his side for some cuddles.

“I would adore that.” A quick kiss is pressed to the corner of Urbain’s mouth; Harmony’s nose finds its home in the crook of his neck. “I would actually really, really like that. A lot. Would probably kill for that, actually.”

“How about,” he can’t help but press a kiss to her head, “you don’t kill anyone and I just plan something for us, huh?”

A hand muffles the laughter that spills from Urbain’s lips as Harmony shushes him. So she’s not a fan of the idea of him not letting her murder anyone, but then again, it might just be the last bits of alcohol mixed with pure exhaustion. The sun is peaking through the curtains, and they have barely gotten a wink of sleep. Did they really talk all night?

“And,” Harmony doesn’t resist as Urbain moves her hand away and flips onto his side to hold her against him, “how about we actually get some sleep?”