Word count: 536
Summary: The things one does for a friendship.
Author's notes: A little ficlet written as a sequel to Life Support. Rather fluffy. You won't understand this unless you've read that, I don't think.
I hate going into Harry’s apartment when he’s not there. Not that I’ve done it a lot, but it weirds me out when I have to. I’m always afraid something is going to jump out and eat me. Harry’s apartment feels alive, for some reason. It makes me feel like my hair is standing on end.
I’m quick about my business today, since he’s not there. I’ve left Anna in the car. In case something does jump out and eat me. It won’t eat her, too, if she’s not there.
“You’re crazy,” I tell myself, out loud. “His crazy is rubbing off on you.”
Sometimes I wonder whether that’s a bad thing or not. And if you know you’re crazy, that means you can’t be that crazy, right? If you were completely crazy, you wouldn’t know.
“Housecoat,” I remind myself.
I start in the bathroom, but it’s not in there. There’s not a lot in there, actually. I consider myself a fairly non-girly girl, but my sink looks like a beauty queen’s compared to Harry’s. Shaving cream, razor, aftershave (all cheap, no name brands), hairbrush and toothpaste. Onwards...
I check his bedroom next. Not in his closet, which is full up with stuff and not a lot of clothes. Not in a drawer. There it is, beside the bed on the floor. Why did I expect it to be put away or hung up?
I shake it out and fold it over my arm. It smells like Harry’s aftershave. I look around to see if there’s a book that he’s reading. There are many. All of them have strange titles and lots of bookmarks in them. They’re scattered across his nightstand and on the floor beside the bed. I snatch one up that looks like it’s a novel and not some sort of magical history/instruction book. The bookmark falls out. It’s a ripped up piece of paper that looks like it was once a post-it note for a shopping list. If people actually buy things like ‘dragon teeth’ and ‘cheetah hair’. It’s Harry. He probably does.
I head back downstairs and wonder if there’s anything else I should bring for him. His toothbrush, maybe? Or slippers? He would have asked if he wanted them, I suppose. And it’s not like I can’t come back.
I head for the door and stop. It’s silly, right? He couldn’t have been serious. It’s Harry. He probably was. I turn back around and face the living room.
“Uh...Harry’s all right,” I say, loudly. My cheeks burn, even though I know there’s no one there to hear me talking to his apartment. “He’s in ECU now and he’s awake and breathing on his own. Uh...he said I should tell...you...that? Um. Bye.”
I turn around and quickly exit the building. I have to take a step back to make sure it’s locked behind me. I think I see a flash of something, but dismiss it as my mind playing tricks. The things I do for that man. Of course, if our roles were reversed, I don’t know if I could think of anything Harry wouldn’t do for me. What’s a little conversation with an apartment in exchange for a friendship like that?