birdcage | ongoing

fifty-seven| mimicry

Trigger warning: mention of sexual assault/abuse
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September 1991
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In the buzzing September of 1991, the West Hollywood evening came alive as Harry fussed with his bow tie in front of the ornate mirror. He fidgeted with the silk, feeling a rush of nerves that tightened his fingers around the intricate fabric. The dinner party with Edward's esteemed colleagues, the crème de la crème of the film industry, seemed like a grand entrance into a world unknown to Harry.

Edward strolled into Harry's bedroom with his typical air of confidence, his tall figure and easy grace reflecting the polished Hollywood star. He observed Harry's reflection in the mirror and couldn't help but smile. "You look stunning," he complimented, coming up behind him.

Harry glanced at Edward's reflection, a mix of nervousness and awe in his eyes. "I feel a bit ridiculous, to be honest," he admitted, trying to perfect the knot one more time. He wasn't an outsider to the glamour and sophistication of Hollywood, but it was his first time experiencing such an event as an equal and not an escort.

Edward stepped closer, his warmth radiating as he placed a hand gently on Harry's shoulder. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're going to charm everyone tonight. Trust me." His voice, soothing and reassuring, eased some of the apprehension he carried.

"I hope so," Harry muttered, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. He felt out of place, wondering if he'd be better off as an escort than anything else.

The actor shifted to stand beside him, their reflections side by side. "You're going to steal the show tonight." His words held conviction, and Harry smiled at Edward's unwavering belief in him. "I'll be sure to introduce you to everybody I know."

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded and turned to face Edward. "Thanks for inviting me, Eddie. I really appreciate it." There was genuine gratitude in his expression, coupled with a hint of uncertainty about his own presence among such luminaries. "But what are you going to introduce me as? I'm your... escort..."

Edward's eyes sparkled as he took Harry's hands in his own. "I'll introduce you as a dear friend," he replied, squeezing his hands. "Unfortunately, it's the way things are for now."

He understood the societal expectations, the need for discretion in a world not yet ready to fully accept relationships like theirs. Even Harry couldn't be sure of exactly what this relationship was. Ever since he'd moved in one month ago, things had changed, little by little. An affectionate look here, a discreet touch there – small gestures that spoke volumes without explicitly revealing the depth of his feelings. Harry recalled the phone call he made to his mother just yesterday, explaining all of this to her.

"It's just that... I've never been in a place like this before, and Eddie, he's kind and supportive. I'm just figuring things out, and it's a bit overwhelming, you know?"

"I know, Harry. But don't rush into things. That's no good. Take your time. Figure out what you really want."

"I don't know what I want, Momma."

"You want a wife?"

"Someday. Maybe. Wife. Husband. It doesn't matter. I just... my head's everywhere."

Shaking his head and pushing that conversation to the back of his mind, Harry straightened his posture, channeling Edward's confidence.

"None of that matters," Harry said, mustering a smile. "Let's just go and have a swell time."

Edward chuckled. "That's my boy."

He grinned, leading Harry out of the room, the sound of their laughter mingling in the air as they embarked on the glittering evening ahead.