Kismet

Twenty Six [The Crash]

The hostess of Lily glances up from her podium screen to greet the patron entering the restaurant only to be whiplashed by a reflex double-take. The man that she's been absolutely squirming for a bit of attention from the past few months comes strutting in through the front door as opposed to the hidden kitchen entrance, his eyes blinking slowly and his mouth pulling into a tender smile as soon as they lock eyes.

His face is awash with light and happiness and it's awesome in the very technical definition of the word. His clothes are the same - a white t-shirt with black jeans - and his hair is just as conspicuous as always, but the beauty that emanates from him is coming from inside this time. Confidence and satisfaction, a pure palpable bliss just to be alive. It's so captivating that it's blinding.

She stands stock still, the only movement of her body is the swing of her head as Harry passes by with his usual bag slung over his shoulder. He bounces as he walks and drops his eye in a wink, a girly giggle falling from her lips as she greets him with a small wave and a blush to her cheeks. She spins on her heel to watch him disappear behind the metal swinging doors that lead to the kitchen, her heart on fire with more determination than ever to receive his consideration.

She learned pretty quickly that he was lying about being gay as soon as she caught him kissing a girl a few weeks ago, but she hasn't made an appearance since then so the hostess assumes that she's gone for good. The hostess convinced herself that he made up the excuse because he's shy and awkward which is totally understandable, but with his switch in behavior maybe he would be more likely to accept her invitation for a drink.

As soon as Harry makes his way across the kitchen to his dishwashing nook in the back, an obnoxious wolf whistle has an unmanageable grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. His face is all dimples, teeth and sparkle, his hair bouncing against his cheeks and jawline when he shakes his head in an attempt to brush off the chef's teasing. He drops his bag under the sink and tucks his beanie into his back pocket, running his fingers through his locks to mess them into a crumpled heap in his face.

"Dare I ask?" The two cooks exchange a glance, one shrugging at the other before the kitchen manager makes his way over to Harry and leans against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes intent as he studies Harry's visibly enlightened face.

It's ingrained in Harry at this point to automatically assume that he's in trouble or in need of hiding, so when he glances at the floor and sees his boss's feet, his eyes travel up the length of his body until their gazes lock. He swallows a lump in his throat and squints as if he's about to receive a physical blow, "hey... I - I thought I was supposed to be in at six today, yeah? I know I'm early, but I slept well so-"

The kitchen manager drops a warm and solid hand to Harry's shoulder before forcing his face to relax in order to ease Harry's worrying. He drops his voice to a low utterance that could only be heard between the two of them; he's seen him come into work flustered, distraught and morose more often than not and he doesn't feel the need to pry about the obvious shift in pattern, "it's nice to see you upbeat."

As soon as Harry had left your apartment, he quietly clicked the door shut before sprinting down the hallway, bending his knees and jumping at the end of the stretch to tap his palm against the top of the doorframe. He spun on his heel and soaked in the sight of your empty corridor with your pink door tucked into the end, considering a quick jog back for another kiss but shook his head and decided against it. He ran down the steps two at a time, leaping to two feet when he reached the bottom and kicking open the exit door before stepping outside with his boots crunching through several inches of dense snow.

He looked up at the stratum of gray sky in search for the sun, but our excellent star had chosen to stay shielded snuggly behind the soft wool of clouds. He wishes that he could have stayed cloaked in mercy for the entirety of the day as well, but he figured the hours apart would only make your reunion that much sweeter. A Tocsin machine stood gravely on a quiet street corner as Harry strode by and his stomach crawled but the appearance of it seemed less threatening when it was covered in snow, as if the white fleece softened its danger. He found it to be symbolism for your night and day together; each flake representing a sentiment or a kiss, the bigger, veiling drifts embody your sessions of lovemaking and the entire blanket of comforting love works to soften his tragic reality.