Harry's making sure his skirt is lying correctly, not having turned slightly sideways again, and doesn't see the slight hole in the ground until he's tripped.
He falls, windmilling a bit to try and catch himself, but it's useless, and he's on the ground, his knees and palms burning, and crying before he knows it.
"You ok, love?"
He sits up, wiping his face with the back of his gang and sniffs. It doesn't really hurt but he hates falling, especially in front of people, and he always falls.
"Yea," he sniffs, blinking at the boy — man, they were in university now, they were men — who's crouching down in front of Harry, taking his hands between his and brushing the dirt from Harry's hands. At least he only fell on grass and not stone or he'd be bleeding.
"I always fall," he blubbers, distracted by how pretty the man is and how soft his hands hold Harry's. "I wanted to look pretty on our first day, you know, make a good expression, but I have to fall."
He sniffs again, blinking against the tears.
"No one saw, love," the man soothes, pulling a wet wipes from his bag and starting to clean Harry's hands. "And you look lovely, yea."
"Okay," Harry sniffs, letting himself be pulled up, sniffing slightly. He takes the tissue packet the man hands him — so prepared, Harry doesn't know why it makes him even more sexy — dabbing his tears away.
"Can I?" the man asks, gesturing to Harry's knees with his wet wipe and Harry nods, watching him sink to his knees and carefully cup the back of Harry's knee, cleaning him.
It sends heat through him, making his belly clench, making him wonder what it would feel like if he slid his hands higher, up Harry's thighs.
His face is burning when the man stands up, smiling at Harry, obliviously. "All good now."
Harry nods, straightening his skirt and ignoring the dampness in his panties. He's never grown wet so quickly, and definitely not because of something so mundane. "Thank you," he manages, sniffling a bit again.
"You'll be fine," the man smiles at Harry, squeezing his upper arm. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Harry breathes and watches him walk away.
He doesn't see him again for all of welcome week and by the time they have their first class together, the man seems to have forgotten him, looking at Harry with the same detached politeness he does at everyone else.
Harry tries to curb his disappointment and watches him, learns his name is Zain Malik and that he is doing English Language with English Literature, not with Creative Writing like Harry. It's why they have many classes in common, but not all of them.
He always greets Zain when they have class together and Zain always looks at him like he doesn't remember that he saved Harry on the first day of school. Maybe he just doesn't want to remember.
Harry doesn't quite dare approach him, not without reason, because Zain always took classes so seriously, never chatting with anyone, and often hurrying from the room as soon as it was done. Harry's seen him go to the library after almost every class.
So when Luke asks him out, he says yes.
💫
trying something new with the interludes, we shall see.