Kismet

Seven [The Pill]

He works his way through the thinned out crowd, the beanie on his head is acting as his only protective shield from the volume of pedestrians and traffic and the wind whipping around his ears. Neon signs flash and illuminate strangers faces as he passes, the reflection of the bright lighting shrunken and blinking in some of their glasses.

A tug on the sleeve of his sweatshirt has him stopping dead in his tracks, spinning on his heel and turning to face the cerebral intrusion behind him. He chokes on a thick huff of air when your face comes into focus, unable to determine if his heart or his mind is reacting first when every organ inside of him begins to churn like the cogs within a wristwatch. His heart beats in brisk twos with a pause in between, his tongue itching to babble your name but instead he stays silent with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and unintentional intimidation.

"Harry, hi! Do you remember me?" He would laugh in ridicule if he weren't so stunned, "where are you off to so late? Home?" You're out of breath as if you had been running or possibly chasing him for some time, it crosses his mind that you had tried calling his name more than once and now he's a tad embarrassed of the notion of not heeding your summons right away.

He wants to press his hand to his heart to calm it, the pounding so forceful inside of his chest that it's resonating in his temples, "yeah." He answers both of your questions in one shot plus he's too paranoid to announce where he was headed in case anyone is listening. He digs as deep inside of himself as he possibly can to uproot the very last shred of social decency he has buried deep within his lower intestine, "hi... again." Was that normal?

Your mouth splits in a heart-stopping smile, his ribcage aching at the sight as he licks his lips in delirium. You're just glad to recognize a familiar face within the steady stream of strangers even if he isn't the most emotive person, "hi!" You breathe a laugh at your obvious repetitive greeting but graze past it, "I'm headed to a small invitation-only party in a warehouse in the Industrial District. I was just about to catch a cab - it's sold out but I have an extra ticket because my coworker bailed. I was just gonna go alone, but then I saw your doughnut hoodie and kinda... chased you a couple blocks. Well, maybe just a block and a half. Anyway, I understand if it's too last minute, but I figured I'd ask."

He's too overwhelmed to hear each and every word you've said but he catches the drift of your proposal. He's busy wondering if this is what happens when he interferes with a precognitive dream since he doesn't have prior experience; do they circle around him like a buzzard picking at his insides until he erodes completely? If that's the case, then he sure picked a good one to start with.

A warehouse party is probably the last place on the planet that he wants to be right now, but the universe has handed you to him three times now and he refuses to let you slip away again. He nibbles on his bottom lip, his gaze boring into yours and nowhere else as he nods slightly at first before clearing his throat and speaking softly, "sure, okay. Thanks."

You bend your knees and clap once with a little bounce of enthusiasm, shooting an adorable squeal of excitement with your mouth gaping in an infectious expression of pure joy that causes him to smirk and drop his sight to the sidewalk to simmer himself, the taste of his provoking dimple hollowing his cheek before vanishing again. You loop your arm through his and guide him towards the edge of the sidewalk, signaling for a cab and then turning to him, "I'll get the fare since I sprung this on you. It's gonna be so fun, I'm really glad you agreed to join me," but he can't hear anything you're saying over the fireworks bursting from where your fingertips burn into his bicep.

When the cab pulls up you step forward and pry the door open for Harry, gesturing for him to slide in before climbing in beside him. Your voice sounds like wind chimes when you relay the address to the driver, pulling a small pouch from your pocket and emptying the contents into your open palm. Harry watches in silence, his stomach churning with anxiety when he sees the small pink and white capsule nestled precariously against your skin. His tongue darts out to moisten his lip as he comprehends what is happening and what kind of party he has just agreed to attend.