❝When I'm around slow dancing in the dark, don't follow me you'll end up in my arms.❞
『 homecoming - post 』
『 the extraordinary series 』
『 cover by binbarnes 』
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◤ chapter eleven: ❛ simple beauties ❜ ◢
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HARRY WASN'T USED TO HAVING FRIENDS. Well, real friends and real connections with people who weren't just close with him so that they could mooch off of his money. He's had enemies, he's had fake friends who just laughed along with his behavior, but he's never had people who ask him if he's okay when he comes to school with bags under his eyes, or challenge his ideas, or even draw circles into his hand when they're bored.
And, yeah, he knows that while it might be a huge deal for him, it's just another day in the neighborhood for everyone else. Mary Jane doesn't acknowledge it when she leans her head on his shoulder and dozes off, or when she tells him that his Spanish is shit, or when she playfully swipes some paint onto his arm giggling. Those are just simple things, little actions she does with everyone, but they're actions that not everyone does with Harry.
See, he's used to people being too reliant on his money to ever think of telling him something he's doing it bad. He's used to yes men who just nod along and say that he's great at everything even though he can see in their eyes that they're lying. He's used to no one treating him like a normal human being and friend, always a little further from the group, always a bit more separated, because he was just temporary until he's given them enough cash or drugs for a while and he's no longer needed.
And he knows it was a vicious cycle to let them back into his life and do the same thing time and time again, but it was the only time he had any contact. Because sometimes someone who hold his hand, and maybe he would get a pat on the shoulder, and it was so little but it was too much to him. But Mary Jane gives it to him without saying anything because that's just who she is, and it means so much to him, but he doesn't want to say anything.
It's so little, but it's so huge to him.
He flipped the page of his book, scribbling something for annotations in the margins as Mary Jane sat across from him, doodling something in her notebook. Another moment passed before he felt her kick his shin lightly so he looked up to her playful smile before she turns her notebook to let him see. "You like?" she asked.
Mary Jane liked showing off her work, her little doodles, and Harry liked seeing them. He wasn't at all artistically gifted but Mary Jane surely was. The little doodle was of a sunflower, which she had been obsessed with lately. He smiled at the little flower before looking up to her again and nodding. "I like it."
"Yeah? Really?" Mary Jane asked, as if he would lie to her. Harry hated lying, it put a bad taste in his mouth, especially if it was to a friend.
He rolled his eyes at her. "Of course I'm telling the truth. I wouldn't lie to you," he said, in a tone to show that he truly cared for her as a friend, and she smiled.
