I knocked on the door, once, twice, three times urgently until Harry opened it, a confused expression washing over his strong features as he stood there in only a personally made, dark red satin robe with his initial H embroidered in gold on the front, the span of his nicely tanned, chest exposed as he held a glass of wine in his hand.
We stared at one another for a moment, his face stunned and mine neutral as I gazed at him.
"Nice robe." I raised my brows in amusement, giving his outfit a quick once over.
Harry was still staring at me with a slackened jaw and wide eyes, as if seeing a ghost before he closed his lips, swallowing.
"Oh yeah, well, nice- nice...." He trailed off, gazing at me as his broad chest rose and fell in shallow dips and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.
"Fuck, I can't even think, I'm just happy you're here- I mean, what are you doing-" Harry shook his head to snap himself from his daze, surprised to find me on his doorstep at 12:34 A.M in the morning before I stepped forward and hugged him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, having to go on my tiptoes to do so as his hands hovered over my body, caught off guard before I felt him hold me closer.
He lowered his face down to my neck, slowly inhaling, his large frame relaxing against mine, not questioning my sudden gesture of affection and seeming to enjoy my open arms before I pulled back.
Harry opened his mouth to say something, staring at me with a creased brow and a raised pointer finger, sending me a skeptical expression before he rethought his choice of saying anything at all when he took a deep breath, downing the rest of the wine in his glass with his head back before he locked eyes with me.
"Alright, I'm ready for you to yell and curse me out, fair warning though, that somewhat turns me on." Harry advised with a cautious raise of his hands and a serious look as he rolled his broad shoulders, as if psyching himself up for a boxing fight while I blinked at him.
"I'm not here to yell at you." I shook my head, staring at him as his stiff shoulders relaxed and he sent me a confused look that made him seem quite boyish under the porch light.
"I'm here to apologize and that I really do understand this time. About your situation." I added, standing there with a firm posture as he furrowed his brows before I took the folded photo that had fallen from his police costume, taking it out and raising it between us to show.
The recognition and surprise in Harry's green eyes was evident when they widened slightly before a grim expression overtook his sharp features, his lips pressing into a thin line before his intense gaze locked with mine, confirming that I had discovered Polly's secret.
And I was hoping he would trust me to let me hear more from his side.
"Polly and I have been friends since we were toddlers." Harry began his explanation when we had settled on his bed like earlier that night, when there was a party downstairs.
Now we were alone in his trashed house, the only clean room his own as we faced the ceiling, laying side by side as he held up the photo of him and Polly as kids.
"She was originally named Peter, and we were completely inseparable back then." Harry began in thought, a small smile of nostalgia on his face as he stared at the picture.
"She was the only real friend I had around here who wouldn't try to compete with me in who was richest or whose family name was better. She liked me for who I was, and even when she was a boy she still acted the same as she does today. That's one of the reasons why Polly has never said 'I love you' to anyone, even her parents. Her mom and dad always tried to change her." Physically Harry was right besides me, but when I turned to look at him, that faraway look in his green eyes revealed that he was somewhere out of reach, digging up the past and bringing it back to light.
"As a boy Polly would play with barbies and put on make up and wear dresses. Not only was he bullied at school by our classmates
but he was also bullied at home by his own parents." His deep voice took a bitter tone as he lowered the photo.
"I remember on the night of Halloween when we were kids he just went all out, dressing up as a princess with the poofiest, pinkest dress and matching little high heels too while I wore a police uniform. A bunch of punks around the neighborhood kept trying to throw rocks at him but I chased them away. Not like I was a saint either, as a clueless seven year old I asked Peter the dumbest, most insensitive questions." Harry released a humorless chuckle at he memory, gently rubbing the corner of his eye.
I settled myself further into the mattress, turning my head back to the ceiling with Harry's shoulder brushing mine as he continued to talk while I closed my eyes.
Have you ever just listened to someone, all your attention on them and the story that left their lips and you could just perfectly imagine the scenario or situation they were painting as if you were there yourself.
When Harry spoke about the times he was with Polly- or Peter I saw them, I saw the two at the green grassed park on the swings, young boys kicking rocks and swinging back and forth, one with straight bangs that were to curl and darken with age and the other with a bruise on his eye from one of his many torturers as they sat besides one another.
"So her, you don't think she's cute?" Young seven year old Harry remarked as he pointed his small finger at one of the ponytailed girls on the monkey bars.
"She's pretty." Peter acknowledged, busy feeling slightly jealous over her long hair and bows, finding it hard to blink with his swollen eye as he dropped his gaze to the gravel beneath their hovered feet.
"Yeah but is she cute? Like 'I'd have a crush on her' cute." Harry elaborated, leaning forward so he can catch his best friend's gaze.
Peter simply shook his head with a timid look.
"Okay what about her." Harry moved on, pointing at another girl on the playground.
"No."
"Her?"
"No."
"Her."
"Mm-mm." Peter shook his head once more.
"Then who's your crush? I hate guessing because I'm never right so tell meeeee." Harry impatiently whined, wiggling his baby tooth that was coming out with his tongue as Peter kept his intense gaze trained on the pebbles.
Without looking up Peter slowly raised his finger, right until it was pointing at an oblivious Harry besides him on the swings while Peter's face flushed, feeling Harry's eyes on him.
"Wait, you have a crush on me?" Harry's squeaky voice asked as he gave him a look.
Peter lowered his finger, gripping tightly onto the metal chains of the swing with sweaty palms before shyly nodding.
"So you like boys? Are you gay?" His best friend curiously asked with an innocent tilt of his head as Peter shrugged, still not meeting his gaze.
"I don't know what I am." Peter weakly admitted, a drastically dark sadness in his voice that no seven year old should hold as he frowned.
"Huh, that's kinda weird." Harry pursed his lips, speaking his mind while he tried swinging, bringing his tiny legs up and down as Peter's grip on the chains tightened and his eyes- well eye started to water.
Suddenly Harry got off the swings and left, all Peter could hear were the fading steps of his best friend's feet crunching against the gravel.
When he knew he wasn't coming back Peter broke into tears, releasing his hold on the chains that left red welts over his baby soft palms as he cried into his hands, thinking he had just lost his one and only best friend as he sat there sobbing by himself on the swings.
"Why are you crying?" Harry's small voice suddenly asked a few moments later, causing Peter to raise his head from his hands to stare at his friend who was now holding two ice creams in his hand.
Peter blinked at him with one teary eye, the other still too swollen to use as his lip quivered.
"I-I thought you hated me." Peter said with a shaky voice.
"I don't hate you. I got you ice cream. You're my best friend. And I got you ice cream." Harry protested, handing the sad boy his cold treat as Peter took it, sniffling and furiously trying to wipe the tears that would never stop running from his eyes.
"Why are you crying now? You're such a baby." Harry laughed, but it was the kind of laugh of endearment as Harry patted Peter's head.
"No I'm not." Peter cried, tears streaming down his face as he ate his ice cream while Harry playfully teased him, not knowing that his friend was in fact crying tears of joy and relief.
I couldn't help but smile when Harry told me this, his hands moving with his words and frown when he told me about what happened to Peter that Halloween night.
Imagine a young seven year old boy running bare foot crying in his ruined dress on the cold streets in the middle of the night with another bruise on his cheek by none other than his own mother who had woken the entire neighborhood, yelling at her son telling him he was going to go to hell if he didn't stop.
Imagine the neighbors peeking out of their windows to watch the "strange" boy whose path was already judged by the way he dressed and acted running helplessly towards the only person who understood him, the only friend he had.
Peter slept over at Harry's house that night, Harry ordering his servants to make only the best fort for the two of them with blankets, pillows, and chairs.
"You're like my knight in shining armor." Peter joked as they watched Peter's favorite movie, beauty and the beast on Harry's flat screen tv under their fort.
Harry looked over at his best friend, still wearing his torn dress and hugging his knees to his chest, watching the movie with great interest, unaware that Harry was looking at his swollen eye, his bruised cheek, and his cuts around his hands.
That was the moment Harry promised himself he would always be Peter's knight in shining armor, the one that would never hurt Peter in a world of cruel, hostile people.
Peter would always find a friend in Harry.
Arlo later on joined them, wearing his dad's large hat that was two sizes bigger than his small head as he slipped into their fort.
"You guys want to hear my guitar solo?" Arlo asked, pretending to hold a guitar in his empty hands, strumming the imaginary strings and making air guitar noises as he laid on the ground, going around in circles on the floor and getting really into his non existent instrument.
"Hi Arlo." Peter laughed as Harry's twin settled in between them.
"Hey Peter." Arlo smiled.
"My brother's going to be the best artist ever. When he's older, I'm going to buy him his first guitar and go to all his concerts." Harry spoke up, leaning forward so Peter could see the sincerity on his round face as Arlo grinned proudly at his twin, taking off his hat and putting it on Harry's head.
"Me too." Peter agreed, a genuine look of joy over his face that Harry was happy to see.
If Peter wanted to be a princess, then as his best friend Harry would be his knight in shining armor whenever he needed him.
But not even noble knights could stop Peter from being sent away across the U.S to a facility camp for the rich that helped "cure" children like him.
It was out of Harry's power, and on Peter's eighth birthday the two best friends said goodbye to one another, not knowing if they'd ever see each other again.
They did.
Six years later.
Harry had heard the news that Peter was back in town and he ran with all his might to his friend's house, his now longer legs pumping and the curls that had gradually settled on his fourteen year old head bounced with every hit of his shoe on the pavement before he knocked on his friend's door with an excited smile.
That dimpled smile and bright green eyes stayed the same, unlike his now sky scraper height and somewhat deeper voice with Harry having been in his young teens as he patiently waited.
The front door opened and his smile slowly dropped at the sight of an unfamiliar, pretty young, blonde girl in front of him, her eyes capturing his, distracting him for a moment before his brows furrowed.
"Um, who are you?" Harry couldn't help but ask out of curiosity, not remembering Peter having a sister as he took in her floral skirt, sweater vest, and matching pink headband with a necklace of baby pearls adorning her soft neck as she smiled at Harry with a kind of warmth and familiarity that caught him off guard.
"My name's Polly, and it's good to see you again Harry." Was the first sentence that left her lips.
"When she told me who she was I just couldn't believe it. I mean the last time I saw Peter he was... he was Peter, he was a boy. A girly boy but still- then after six years he's Polly." Harry tried to explain, still looking a bit stunned even now as I watched him, listening.
"My mind was completely blown, our neighborhood was very closed minded so I only heard rumors of people putting their bodies through these changes to become who they wanted to be but I was still shocked. That didn't stop us from continuing being best friends though. No one knew who Polly really was, we had decided to create a rumor that Peter had passed away and it spread through our entire school. Polly was a new person, it was like she was reborn and she was the happiest I'd ever seen her." Harry continued with a small smile before that smile slowly faded as he recalled something.
"That was until I fucked things up and ruined everything for her." He remembered, a frown taking over his face before he ran a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching as I looked at him while he stared up at the ceiling with an almost pained expression.
"You couldn't have done anything too bad." I weakly attempted to comfort him before he turned his head to meet my gaze with a distressed look in his sorrowful green eyes as his adam's apple bobbed up and down.
"Vee, I was the reason Polly got raped."