Daydreamer

The glint catches his eye in the mirror. Two years and its presence on his finger has become a part of him like the tattoos on his skin. Now one accidental glimpse while buttoning his shirt and his whole body freezes, so hypersensitive to the warmed white gold he's convinced he can feel engraved words pressing into his skin. Only one other ring like his in the world and he hasn't seen sight of it in over a week. His breath stutters at the high possibility it's sitting cold somewhere, tossed aside and unworn. Beneath his fingers the cream fabric has creased. He murmurs a curse and undoes the buttons he's worked into the wrong holes to start fresh from the bottom.

There are gaps around him in the double closet. He tries not to list every piece missing, but the floor beneath him is worn from the years he's dressed in this exact spot and the holes are as apparent as puzzle pieces removed from a finished picture. The favourite shorts gone from the neat pile on the third shelf down, any empty hanger meant for the fleece with faded cuffs, the oldest pair of white trainers gone like knocked out teeth in the lineup at his feet. Things owned before they met. Navy blue cotton hangs boldly in the coveted spot of first hung on the rack like a big middle finger. It's always been tossed over furniture or the floor since being unwrapped that first christmas, rumpled and soft with age when Harry habitually rested his face on the solid shoulders beneath it. Now the jumper hangs neatly and, he discovered during a low point, smells of laundry soap for the first time in its life.

Using rough jabs Harry tucks in his shirt with his eyes cast at the crisp white paint of the ceiling. Beneath his hands his stomach swells with a steadying breath. Then another. He rests his hands on his hips and lets his eyes slip closed. Personal breakdowns can be rescheduled, today is already booked with meeting the most important man of his life. He makes a futile effort to smooth down the front of his shirt with his right hand, tucks a curl out of his way with the left so he doesn't have to look at it.

From the row of shoes opposite of the missing trainers he grabs glossed leather shoes. They slide on effortlessly and peek out from his favourite coloured trousers, the ones with the bottom hint of flare he's usually teased for but no one's here to say anything today so he'll wear what he likes, thank you very much.

The apartment is silent in morning stillness, not unusual when there's early practice, but it's the stuffy air of a museum that makes his skin crawl. The unsettling neatness of the blinding white linen on the unused bed makes it feel like a display piece, it's looming presence weighing him down with memories of hours spent laughing, cuddling, sweating between the sheets. His shoes click on the hardwood in rushed steps throughout empty halls as he tries to outrun phantom hands on his skin. The lights are off, he hasn't bothered to turn them on when the gloom of cloudy morning light seeping in through the half shaded windows is enough to cast things into hazy silhouettes, and his gaze stays on the ground in front of him. He grabs the jacket from it's resting place on the armchair and marches unsteadily out of the door.

Grasping for something, anything, he hums a tune from last night's radio show in an effort to ease his mind. Another futile effort. The meeting is in an hour, if he's lucky traffic will pull his mind out of itself and he can always do an extra loop around the office if he needs to ignore the uncomfortable choking feeling he's had for the last week. The vivid dreams aren't helping, in half of them he's drowning and the other half he's falling. Too many times he's waked drenched in sweat and choking on his own tongue.

His humming is cut off by a yawn that stretches his face wide and he rolls his neck after, blinking hard and widening his eyes to roll off the tiredness. He's only been away from his desk for a handful of hours, most of the night spent triple checking every detail of the project for today's presentation. It's all set up, he just needs to walk in with a strong handshake and a charming smile to win over the client and seal the deal. He's charming as hell. He's got this.