DRAG - [h.s. au]

74*

AN:  welcome to the last drag smut chapter *cries*

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There's a side I'll never show

Only me and the devil know

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BENTLEY

"Bentley," Harry calls from the kitchen.

We had arrived at the small loft Harry got us for the next few days about an hour after the cherry blossom cove. It was beautiful here, the mountains in the distance were white with ice and snow, and it was quieter than the last time we were here.

We ate dinner quickly, and were in bed within mere minutes. Feeling his body against mine as we slept last night almost overwhelmed me with something that felt almost unfamiliar to me.

Safety.

Harry always claimed safety was an illusion, and maybe he was right, but that illusion felt so fucking real as I slept in his tattooed arms last night.

I was on the couch, flipping through channels in hopes of finding something I could understand the words to when I heard him call my name again.

"Yeah?" I ask, my eyes glued to the television as I speak over his music.

"C'mere, will you?" He asks, and I inhale before standing, my feet cracking with the first few steps I take against the light wood.

The sun was coming in and the loft was brighter than any place we'd been together. It felt like there was endless natural light, and it was warmer than I thought it would be. There were potted plants on the walls and the countertops were a white that was basically fluorescent.

I look up to find Harry standing over two pots, towel over his shoulder and one of my hair clips holding up his curls. He's in a vintage sweater he stole from Rumer's things and some casual athletic shorts.

"Everything alright?" I ask, walking behind the counter and looking at the pots from my peripheral.

He insisted I let him cook this time. I offered to help, especially because he knows why I like making dinner, but he was strict with his thoughts.

"I don't need your help," he prefaced. "But if I were to ask you I read these instructions for me..." he trails off, handing me the pack of the noodles.

"You're making us ramen noodles?" I say in disbelief. "I offered to- Wait, why the hell do you need me to read the instructions?"

"First of all, they're gourmet instant noodles. Secondly, maybe it's because I don't know how to make the noodles?" He answers, the confidence in his voice thinning.

"There are literally pictures on the packaging!" I argue lightheartedly.

"Read them for me Bentley... come on, I know you can." He encourages.

So that's what this is about.

Practicing my Japanese.

"I can't. I don't know how." I say simply.

"We've been practicing forever. I'm sure you can make out the first sentence." He reasons, eyes lighting up softly.

"I can't, I don't know how." I repeat.

He clicks his tongue, placing the packet in my hands and pointing at the front of it. My eyes flick up to his and my lips press into a line as he returns his gaze to the black and red packaging.