Kapashima Drabble.
I love them so much, and I have in no way done them justice. WHY IS PRATIK SO DIFFICULT TO WRITE?
It was the last day of term. Everything was packed up. His father had insisted that this year, Pratik's guitar would be packed along with all his other things. He missed it already. It had only been ten minutes, and he was actively trying to keep his hands from shaking; he had literally nothing musical anywhere on his person. He usually had a bracelet with a plectrum threaded on, but he'd leant it to Harry, who was happily wearing it. Sure, Harry had given him his little union flag bracelet, but it wasn't the same.
"Tiki, are you okay?" Harry was giving him a strange look. "Is it the guitar? D'you want your plectrum back?"
Pratik shook his head. He could do this. It was only one flight. He had an ipod. It'd be fine, surely. Harry got up and moved closer to him, taking his hand.
"You can make chord patterns on my hand if you want." Pratik smiled at him, and proceeded to take him up on his offer. Pratik's small, slightly cold fingertips were sending tingles up his arm. It was kind of strange really... Friends touch each other all the time, after all.
"Hey, Harry..." Harry turned to face him, about to reply, when suddenly Pratik's lips were on his. It took him a moment to process it, but once he did... Best last day of school ever, for both of them.
