It is What it is

Despair

Harry turned his head at the sound of a light knock on his door, throwing the last shirt into his suitcase. He rose from the crouching position he had been in for the past fifteen minutes, trying to repack his things so everything would fit in.

"Finished packing?" Perrie asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Think so," Harry answered. "It's strange having to pack for a whole month."

"And for, like, three different climate zones?"

Harry nodded and rocked back on his heels. "I'll send a postcard from every place."

"And bring souvenirs," Perrie reminded him. "I want something really cool from China."

"Hong Kong's not China, love," Harry corrected her.

Perrie rolled her eyes. "It's the same culture."

The ringing of the doorbell made both of them jump slightly, and Perrie frowned.

"Are you expecting anyone?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. I wanted to go to bed early."

Perrie pressed the button to open the door downstairs. "Who could it be then?"

A minute later, Nick showed up at their door, slightly out of breath from climbing the stairs, apparently. He remained standing outside, gaze settling on Harry's face.

"Sorry for coming by unannounced," he said, shrugging.

"No," Harry immediately responded, shaking his head. "That's alright."

"Come in," Perrie offered and stepped aside, turning to Harry. "I'll be in my room, if you need me."

Nodding, Harry watched her go back into her own room. Nick took off his shoes and buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, giving Harry a long stare. It made Harry feel uncomfortable.

"Um," he said, pointing behind himself in the direction of the kitchen table. "Tea?"

"Yes, thank you." Nick followed and sat down, still weirdly quiet.

Nervously, Harry started to prepare tea. He had no idea what this was about? Was this Nick coming to set the record straight between them before Harry went out of reach for a whole month? If it was, Harry had no idea how to react.

He had liked how things had played out between them recently. They had met up for dates a few times, had gone out with friends. Some nights, they had ended up kissing, sometimes full-on snogging. They had never talked about it, though. It had felt easy and uncomplicated to Harry — they just kept each other company, enjoyed a good time together, a lovely friendship, no strings attached. Most importantly, no expectations.

Harry set a mug in front of Nick and took the seat across from him. He curled his fingers around his own mug, waiting for what Nick had to say.

Staring into his mug, Nick bit his lip, exhaling on a shaky breath. "I kissed Nicco."

Harry blinked, not quite sure how to react. "Um..."

Nick looked up, face scrunched up in distress. "I don't know what we are, Harry, or if we even are— something. I don't know. But if we are, I'm not—" He fell silent, shaking his head. "I'm not two-timing or anything."

Leaning back in his chair, Harry breathed out slowly. "That's good."

Nick frowned, looking utterly lost.

"I mean," Harry added quickly. "You and Nicco. You always liked him, didn't you?"

Nick shrugged, lowering his gaze to the table. "I thought he never really looked at me like that."