Pulling Down Heaven

Mainly fluff

They lay on Proctor's bed for a while, Hale's head resting on Proctor's chest where he could hear the other boys heartbeat. Proctor ran his thumb over the back of Hale's hand, and he hummed contentedly in response. After Proctor's father returned, and subsequently Hale left, Proctor went back to his room to to text Elizabeth. She had sent him a message earlier:

I'm following him too now

He wasn't sure how to respond, so took a moment to mull it over and then replied,

What do you think?

She texted back immediately,

Not bad- I can see why you like him- how tall is he?

Proctor raised an eyebrow as he typed:

He's mine- and he's so short like 5'5" tops

Then he laughed at her response,

Omg he's shorter than me- you can have him

He then switched chats to talk to Hale again- it hadn't been long since he'd left but he already wanted to talk. He kept reliving their afternoon in his head, every laugh and smile committed to memory. He was distracted, what felt like seconds later, by his phone warning him of low power- but when he checked it it was almost midnight. With frequent stops to reply to Hale he changed slowly into pajamas, and then plugged his phone in at the wall. Wishing Hale goodnight, he crawled into bed and switched out the light.

That Saturday, as planned, Hale and Proctor met up in the town centre. Proctors dad had offered him a lift in but Proctor had insisted that they would probably be a while, so there would be no point waiting to take him back. There was a small pedestrian area lined with shops, and a larger building with 3 floors of shops at the end- they found each other at the beginning of the pedestrian zone by the bollards and strolled along casually. They stopped for a coffee, and the barrister spelt their names drastically wrong in a way that almost seemed deliberate but made them laugh nonetheless. As they finished their drinks they sat in the coffee shop and talked.

"Is that Ed Sheeran?" Proctor listened to the faint strummings of a busker further down the road.

"I think so..." Hale hummed a few bars of tune to the chords, "yeah, I'm pretty sure,"

"I didn't know you could sing,"

"Proctor I've told you multiple times I go to choir- what do you think I do there?" Hale chuckled.

"I guess I never- put 2 and 2 together?" Questioned Proctor, at a loss to how he had been so oblivious. They laughed some more over coffee and similar conversations- completely relaxed in each other's company. All in all, the trip was fun and cheap, more to do with the time spent together than the money spent on objects. One of the few purchases of the day was at a particularly strange clothing shop they had discovered. Of course they'd offered each other terrible outfits with mock-serious expressions: a shirt advertising a non-existent festival with tulle fanning out diagonally across the chest, like someone had sewn half a tutu to an old band tee; and a belt studded with flashing rhinestones coupled with a pair of skin tight leather trousers; and the hat.

There was an entire rack of hats at the back of the shop, which they had explored and tried on in turn. Near the end of the strange-hat-extravaganza Hale had pulled out a particularly perculiar piece of headgear.

It had a wide brim that cast shadows across his face and then, for some unpercievable reason, folded up at the back to form an arch. Proctor laughed until his sides hurt when Hale popped up with it on, but picked out a floppy brown felt farmers hat that had no shape so they could take a selfie together. Hale kept the hat on as they discovered the rest of the shop, and Proctor became unreasonably attached to it. When they went to leave the shop, he was so upset at the thought of leaving it behind that he checked the price tag and, finding it reasonable, walked over to the counter to buy it.

"You really don't have to spend your money on me-" Hale Protested, but Proctor insisted that it was as much for himself as it was for him. They carried it out of the shop in fits of laughter over their weird purchase, and Proctor joked that Hale should wear it to the next bible study group session. To Proctor's eternal surprise, he did.

Well, perhaps wear is the the wrong verb, but he brought the hat in his bag, and as they had arranged to arrive early and talk, he put it back on as they sat in the spare room where they had had their first proper conversation. They moved 2 chairs through and sat opposite each other, but their conversation quickly escalated to more romantic gestures, their confidence growing behind closed doors. At some point Hale must have moved out of his seat to straddle Proctor's lap, though neither of them could quite remember when, and Proctor was gripping Hale's hips with enough force to bruise. Hale's hands were curled into Proctor's shirt, trying to pull them closer together as they kissed.

They were so caught up in their kiss that neither of them looked up when the door opened, and it was only when Danforth's recognizable voice coughed and said, "Boys, the lesson has started," that they realized someone else was in the room. Hale didn't move from Proctor's lap, but his hands gripped the shirt tighter until his knuckles turned white. "Your parents will be hearing about this," Danforth finished before he left the room.

As soon as he had left Hale buried his face in Proctor's chest to hid a panicked sob, but Proctor stayed staring blankly at the closed door, wondering what his father would say.