#stuckonspidey

“What’s wrong with you?”

You glance to the side, managing a hard smile as you see your friend Harry there. Concern drifts through his stare as he nudges your shoulder.

“Nothing,” you reply, your voice chipping around the word.

“Liar.” Harry settles beside you, his eyes following the line of your gaze until he sees the offending figures of Harrison and his co-star, huddled up in the corner. “Ahh. I see.”

“What do you mean, you see?” You respond, gulping. You tear your eyes away from the heartbreaking scene playing out across the room to glare at him. When Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you, you scoff and down the rest of your drink.

“I know you think you’re very discreet, Y/N, but I’m not an idiot. And neither is Harrison.”

Your eyes round out with fear as your jaw loosens, a sudden feeling of dread pooling in the pit of your stomach. Harrison doesn’t know, does he? You’ve always been so careful, so intent on keeping your budding feelings under wraps so he didn’t find out and get all... weird about it. Because Harrison is your best friend, above everything else, and you would never do anything to jeopardise your relationship with him.

“What do you mean, neither is Harrison?”

Harry shrugs, his eyes glinting with something you can’t quite trace. “I’m just saying, if the two of you actually talked to one another, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here looking like you’re about to spontaneously combust.”

“I do not look like that,” you bite back. Your eyes shift back to Harrison, and you see he’s now moved a little further away from his co-star. The sight makes you relax. “Did you see the paparazzi shots, though? She was wearing his jacket.” You always used to be the one who got to wear Harrison’s jacket. “You can’t tell me that there isn’t something there.”

Harry just shrugs, and lands a chipper hand over your back. “I won’t pretend I know what his feelings are, but I do suggest that you buck up and just come out with it. And if not, at least try to look like you’re having fun, alright?”

You manage a weak smile. “Fine.”

The hours slip by, wasted away in the shitty West London club with sticky floors. You do everything in your power to avoid bumping into Harrison, which is dumb because he’s your best friend, but it hurts to look at him now. You spend a while fighting with your mind - analysing every single word you’ve said to him over the last month, regretting desperately that you hadn’t told him the second you felt something romantic for him, because now it appears it’s too late, and no matter what Harry says, you’re almost certain that Harrison feels something for his co-star. He’s by her side all night.

It’s not the best coping mechanism, but you decide to down a line of shots and dance the night away. 3am comes and you’re still going strong, despite the rest of the cast slowly peeling off and calling it a night. But you know that all that awaits you at home - in your flat, which you share with Harrison, of course - is loneliness and your thoughts, and you really don’t want to confront those, so more shots is your magical solution.

“Y/N, where have you been all night, I haven’t seen you?”

One moment you’re spinning around with Harry, the next Harrison’s face is drawing into focus. You grin lazily as your eyes take in his sweaty blond curls and his bloodshot eyes, but you frown as you see he’s staring at you with concern embedded over his beautiful, flushed face.

“Eh? I’ve been right here,” you shout out, voice barely cutting across the music. You giggle as someone bumps into your back, and your hands go out to land on Harrison’s shoulders. His fingers move up to hold your waist securely, and you stumble further into his arms. “You’re so warm, Haz, y’know that?” Your face presses into his shoulder as your hands trail along his biceps. “And strong. Have you been going to the gym?”

Harrison laughs heartily, and the sound is like music to your tipsy ears. He hugs you closer, and it makes your heart pang in your chest.

“Thanks, love,” he says, and you can hear the confusion in his voice, but instead you focus on the way he’s gently passing his hands over your back. When he speaks next, it’s directed to Harry, “How much has she had?”

Harry throws out a number that sounds remarkably too high, but you’re too content clinging onto Harrison to really care to correct him.

“Y/N. Hey, look at me.” Harrison’s back, his lips at your ear, and reluctantly you let him pull you out of his shoulder. “We’re gonna go home now, yeah? You’re sloshed.”

“But it’s gonna be cold outside,” you complain, eyebrows furrowing as you stare into his icy blue eyes. His gaze fills with mirth, and you bat at his shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me, Harrison. I’m gonna get cold.”

“Then you can use my jacket.”

Your grin sours immediately. “Ha,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. You step back, Harrison’s touch falling away from you completely. “I thought you’d already given your jacket away.”

His face is the picture of confusion, but Harrison reaches out for you anyway and winds his arm around yours. “It’s checked in the cloakroom?” He says, gently guiding you towards the exit of the club.

“No, no, not that one.” You don’t even know if he can hear you, over the noise of the club, but that thought comforts you. “I’ve seen the photos, Haz. I know you gave your other one away.”

You’re in the cloakroom now, and you’re the only ones milling around. Harrison sits you down on the bench in the middle as he begins to trail through the line of fluffy jackets, his gaze continuously being pulled back to you.

“Those photos are bullshit,” he mutters. “The media see one thing and take it completely out of context.”

“But you let her wear your jacket. That means something.”

“Does it?” Harrison turns his head to you, a small grin widening over his face. “I let you wear my jacket. Hell, Y/N, I let you keep my jackets, and my hoodies. Your wardrobe is full of my shirts. What does that mean, eh?”

Suddenly you become very interested in playing with your fingers. “So… You don’t like her?”

“Not romantically.”

You breathe out a large sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Harrison pulls you up from the bench carefully, and he wraps you up in his oversized jacket. You snuggle into the sleeves, and he stays standing in front of you, his warm hands travelling to your face. You freeze under the touch, your lips parting as you take in the way he’s looking at you so intently it feels like he’s drawing your heart up your throat.

“If you weren’t so hammered right now…” He starts, but he trails off with a sigh, and bites his lower lip.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harrison moves one of his hands away from your face and tidies up a few strands of your unruly hair. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“What were you going to do?”

He’s looking at you softly, and he tilts his head to the side. “I was going to tell you something. A secret.”

“Tell me now,” you whine. He looks so pensive and reluctant, but beneath that, there’s something like adoration floating around his eyes. With a smile flickering out across your lips, you lean in nearer and add, “I promise I won’t remember in the morning.”

And Harrison sighs, but you know from the way his eyes deflate that you’ve worn him down. He links his hands with yours and says slowly,

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. The only person I want to be with is you.”