Falling Away With You - Intro
von Resimesdra
1 - Intro
After Sailing On A Sunken Dream, this is a more lighthearted and fluffy story, for as I said before - there's many possible sides of this pairing that all deserve showing :)
I do not own anything Harry Potter, neither did I invent mobile phones or the concept of contact ads. I don't make any money with this story either; I merely waste precious study time for writing it - hoping it will prove worth the while ;)
Thanks...
...to Solvej, Caliatara, Thekla and Anthimaeria for their wonderful support and helpful suggestions!
...to C-Beta for her kind beta services!
~ Story title borrowed from Muse - the bestest band ever!
Chapter title also borrowed from Muse (perhaps it's not worth the disclaimer since Intro could be anything, really - but still ;))~
~oOo~
Okay, Harry thought, scanning over the short message for a final time. That should do.
He pressed the send button of his mobile phone, then exhaled with both anxiousness and relief. He’d done it. He’d finally made up his mind and got the damn message out. Now all he had to do was wait.
Harry had felt extremely alone since the final battle with Voldemort. He was never actually alone, as he was always followed around by fans and admirers who were constantly congratulating him, worshipping him, and eager to fulfill his every wish – but this was exactly what made him feel so lonely. All those people pretending they knew everything about him when actually they knew nothing. It was starting to annoy the hell out of him.
Even his friends seemed to have changed their attitude towards him, or so it felt to Harry, when they were whispering behind his back and sporting broad, silly smiles as soon as he looked at them. They didn’t seem comfortable around him anymore – either because they couldn’t cope with his status as celebrity (now more than ever), or because they had eventually detected their attraction towards each other, and Harry was mostly the third wheel. Either way, Harry wasn’t particularly keen on their company anymore, so he’d started to avoid them wherever he could.
That was why Harry had started turning back to the Muggle world, little by little. All the things that used to bother him when he was younger – the anonymity, the fact that nobody knew who he was or gave a fuck about him – now seemed like a real blessing. No one got edgy or nervous when they met him in the street or when he dined in a restaurant; for once, people treated him like he was a normal, ordinary human being, and Harry found that he immensely enjoyed this.
But after a while, once the novelty of normalcy had worn off, Harry began feeling lonely again. He’d dated various girls in both the Wizarding and the Muggle world, but he never was comfortable with these tête à têtes; quite the contrary. He was always uneasy, feeling he was saying or doing the wrong things, and once he and the bird had parted ways, he used to feel lucky for having escaped her claws.
Well, Harry might not know an awful lot about how relationships worked – but he was fairly sure that this was not the correct way.
It was really by accident that one frosty, foggy evening in November Harry stumbled right into a gay bar when he had actually been on his way home (and quite drunk in addition) – but it turned out to be the best mistake he’d ever made. The scent of male bodies, sex and sweat was appealing to him at once, and it wasn’t long before Harry found himself shoved against a wall by a young, bare-chested man with dirty blond hair and warm brown eyes (not that Harry spent much time looking at his eyes, though), receiving perhaps not the very first but certainly the very best blow job he’d ever experienced.
All out of sudden, a completely new world had opened in front of his very eyes, and Harry felt like Alice after stepping through the looking glass.
At first, he thought he’d found the perfect thing. He spent almost every night at some gay club or the other, had the most fantastic sex ever, felt young and attractive and alive – but after a while, the odd feeling that something was missing began creeping its way back into his mind.
Harry ignored it, tried to squash it like a bug, but it wouldn’t go away. It was hovering in the back of his consciousness the way the stale stench of old sweat and cigarettes in the morning would stick to the clothes he’d worn at night when he was out clubbing.
Harry felt lonely. He felt lonely when he woke up next to a stranger after a night full of wild, fantasy fulfilling sex, because he didn’t even remember the bloke’s name. He felt lonely when he got up, traipsing to his bathroom and found only one toothbrush standing by the mirror. He felt lonely when he walked into his kitchen, opened up the fridge and found nothing in there but a can of beer and a pair of socks, even though God knew how those had gotten in there.
And he felt extremely lonely when he got back from the fast food take-away around the corner with breakfast for two in a paper bag, and found his flat empty because his trick had already hit the road without as much as leaving a quick note.
It was one of those Sunday mornings again, and Harry was sitting on his couch, feeling slightly sick because he’d been so frustrated he’d eaten both breakfasts. He was moodily flipping through a newspaper with greasy bacon fingers when he accidentally flipped the Lonely Hearts section open.
Harry’s heart skipped a beat and he forgot about the two helpings of scrambled eggs in his stomach, intently focusing on the small ads in front of his eyes.
Not one of the female ads, which he dutifully skimmed through, could arouse his interest, and so he skipped to the gay section instead. There were loads of ‘hot, horny guys’ looking for ‘wild, kinky monkey sex’ and Harry was truly astounded that everything about being gay seemed to be related with sex.
He wouldn’t have minded usually, but right now, he was in such a mood that he wanted nothing more than someone on the couch with him, someone to cuddle and fuss about, someone who he could pamper and spoil rotten. Someone to love. Not just to make love to, but to truly, madly, deeply be in love with.
He was about to give up reading and buy a cat at the pet store around the corner instead, when he spotted it. It was a short ad, sitting almost at the end of the page, but once Harry had read it, his heartbeat sped up.
Tristan (age 20): Hey guys! I’m new to the gay scene and I don’t want my first time to be with a random stranger I barely know. I would like to find someone I could truly care about; someone I could fall in love with. Could you be this special someone?
Something about this ad touched Harry deep inside. There was someone out there who wanted exactly the same thing that he wanted! Well, not that Harry was still worried about his first time since that had been ages ago, but still…
His fingers were shaking when he got his mobile out, and he had to erase and change the message about a thousand times because everything looked crappy to his critical eyes, but finally he was contented with what he had written.
Hey Tristan! I read your ad this morning and I think we’ve got something in common. I feel like I’ve been looking for the right person for an eternity, without success. I’m 21 - thought you might want to know that. Please mail back; I’d love to get to know you better! Jamie
Harry had finally decided to stick to the name he was using these days; first because it actually was his second name and using it wasn’t exactly lying, and second because he liked it far better than Harry. He’d also decided to keep the personal information as short as possible; he didn’t want Tristan to think he was shallow and only interested in himself.
He was nervous as hell when he finally sent it away, praying Tristan would write back soon.
He needn’t have worried. It was about two hours later when the beeping of his mobile announced an incoming message. Harry darted out from under the shower so fast he almost tripped over his own feet and grabbed the phone from the couch.
Hi Jamie! Thank you for mailing. You sound like a decent guy and I would like to keep up the connection. Please tell me something about you, I’d like to get to know you, too. ~Tristan
Harry’s heart beat erratically. Something told him that Tristan was a very cute bloke, but he didn’t even know why he felt like this. It was not as if the boy had told Harry anything about himself yet; not to mention that even if he had, Harry had no way of knowing whether he was telling the truth or not.
What do you want to know? Btw, I’ve noticed many people use nicknames – is Tristan your real name?
The answer arrived immediately.
No, Tristan is not my real name. Does it bother you if we use it anyway? I don’t really like my real name, you know. What do I want to know about you… how long have you been gay?
Harry smiled when he read this.
No, that doesn’t bother me at all. I know many people that don’t like or use their given name, so don’t worry. As for your question: I guess I’ve always been gay, but I only realized it a short time ago. It was sort of an accident, actually. Before this, I always tried to make it work with girls, but failed spectacularly. How about you?
Tristan wrote:
I’ve known I was gay since I was about 12 years old. It’s been rather hard for me since my parents are very strict and I couldn’t tell them. I still haven’t told them. Actually, nobody in my family knows. Are you out?
Harry frowned. Poor boy. He seemed to have a hard time at home.
I’m sorry to hear that your family seems to be so narrow-minded. I never had a chance to tell my parents. I don’t know whether they would have approved of it, but I like to think they would. My friends don’t really know either, but that’s not because I hide it. I just haven’t seen them in quite a while.
What do you mean you didn’t have the chance to tell your parents? Did something happen to them? I don’t have real friends, just people that pretend to like me because they think it will do them some good. They don’t need to know about me at all, so I don’t tell them. Btw, what did you mean when you said you found out by accident?
Harry gulped. He hadn’t meant to tell Tristan already that he was an orphan. That would seem like he was out for his sympathy, which Harry wasn’t at all. But anyway, he couldn’t not tell him now, could he? He decided to stick to the Dursley version of the story.
My parents died in a car crash when I was very little. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to have parents, but most of the time I don’t even miss them since I never got to know them. It was an accident because I sort of fell through the door to a gay bar when I didn’t even know I swung that way. In there, I noticed really quickly, though.
It took a while until Tristan wrote back this time and Harry was already getting worried. Perhaps he’d been too uncaring about what had happened to his parents? Perhaps Tristan thought he was cold hearted or something?
He was about to send a second message to ask whether something was wrong when his mobile vibrated again.
So sorry to hear about your parents! Sometimes, however, I wish I were an orphan too. It might sound harsh, but you have no idea what my folks put me through… So you’ve already had sex? I was… well, I was somehow assuming you were still a virgin like me.
Harry gulped again. Tristan sounded so disappointed now. Harry could kick himself for letting that bit about the gay bar slip. What if Tristan thought he was just like all the other sex-obsessed blokes out there?
I had sex, that’s true. I won’t lie and tell you it wasn’t good, because it was. It’s just… I’ve never done it with someone that actually meant something to me. Are you disappointed now?
This time, he didn’t have to wait for long.
I’m not necessarily disappointed. More, like, a bit surprised. But then again that’s my fault for simply assuming you were inexperienced even though you never said so. Don’t worry, it’s not a problem; and I’m glad you’re not lying to me anyway. So, are you a top or a bottom, then?
Harry spewed the soda he had been drinking all over the place when he read that. Then he grinned. Okay, so Tristan wasn’t a saint, either. He might still be a virgin, but he definitely had an interest in sex. Harry smiled to himself. This was good. This was very, very good. Because even if he was looking for someone to have more than sex with, Harry still loved sex, and giving it up was not an option.
I’m glad you’re not mad or something. Harry typed. Then he paused, thinking for a moment. Was he a top or a bottom? Am I a top or a bottom – well, I’ve tried both, and to be honest, I think I prefer topping. Have you figured this out for yourself yet?
Harry thought he could feel Tristan’s blush when he read his next message.
I’m not sure. Sometimes, when I… you know… fantasize, I imagine I’m on my hands and knees and there’s a big cock up my arse. But I guess I have to try it for real before I can decide which I really prefer. Do you have a favourite fantasy, Jamie?
God. Harry had to reach down to adjust his dick, which had taken to poking insistently against the inside of his trousers at of Tristan’s words. So much for the boy’s innocence. Had he a favourite fantasy?
Well. There was this one imaginary scenario in which Harry shagged Draco Malfoy in the shower in the locker room. Harry had been a bit surprised when it had first popped up in his head, even if it was after he had fully known he was gay (which meant he hadn’t seen Malfoy in almost two years by that time). But once he had gotten over the initial fright, he had found the vision quite endearing. He was forced to conclude that this might point to some secret attraction always harboured towards his former archenemy, but he much preferred looking at it as just a strange way of dealing with his past.
Of course, Harry wasn’t going to tell Tristan any of this. He didn’t think the boy would appreciate hearing something so specific about another bloke, anyway.
Sometimes I imagine that there has been a game of soccer and I’m in the shower with my teammates. It’s steamy and hot in there, and there’s this cute boy from my team. He winks at me through the steam, so I walk over to him, drop to my knees, and suck him off. Nobody notices because they can’t see us properly, and he tries so hard to make no telltale noises... I don’t even play soccer, but I think it‘s hot anyway.
Harry bit his lips when he sent the message. He wasn‘t sure if he had gone too far with that. He was already quite on edge when finally the next message arrived.
He read it and his heart leapt into his throat.
205-447-3897 Can you call me on the landline?
--
TBC
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