pairing ‣ Quinton Aoki x Harrison Chang

prompt ‣ Guardian by Alex London AU

notes ‣ if you've never read Proxy and Guardian by Alex London, you're seriously missing out, because Guardian is one of my favorite books in the entire world, mostly because of Syd and Liam's dynamic. though I have no confidence in writing fanfic on it, so I wrote this, the Guardian AU no one asked for, featuring two characters I finally get to introduce you guys to!

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Harrison was always there, just out of the light, standing in doorways, hovering at the edge of conversations, watching Quinton even as he slept.

Those were the orders of Quinton's parents: Quinton was not to be alone.

It made sense twelve weeks ago, when Quinton was first told about his parent's divorce, since the information could not be revealed to the public under any circumstances, but nowadays, Quinton found that it was the biggest waste of Harrison and his own time. Even if Quinton wanted to talk about the divorce, he didn't have anyone to tell, and why did Quinton care if his parents wanted out of an arranged marriage?

(Quinton knew that there were other reasons for the bodyguard, one involving a poison dart had almost killed Quinton fourteen weeks ago. After all, no matter what the circumstances, Quinton could not die. Therefore, having a bodyguard to protect him from knives and bullets and poison darts and murders made sense, because obviously the normal guards watching him clearly weren't enough.)

Though with his parents separated, it made stuffy functions seem pointless. They held the illusion that everything in their family was going all right, but in reality, Quinton's parents hardly paid any attention to him and were divorced.

Eating the at least twenty shrimp puffs Quinton had grabbed off a waiter, Quinton walked around the restaurant, greeting important officials, and ached for the city air, damp from the rain and a little polluted from smoke. The air may not be good for him, but it did a lot to him than these dinner functions.

Glancing around the room, Quinton spotted Harrison in formal clothes talking to an official, but his gaze wasn't on the official but at Quinton. He shivered, not knowing how to take that information, and then turned away to eat another shrimp puff. Harrison always wore a disguise wherever he went, and he always acted at least a little normal if not stiff in public, but the thing that always set him apart was that no matter what, Harrison was always only watching Quinton.

Though, Quinton would think that after twelve weeks of being stuck with him, Harrison would at least be a little bored at his job. He wasn't, which meant that Quinton was suffering alone. Everyone suffers alone. That was Quinton's philosophy, and he hadn't been wrong yet. So as he finished his last shrimp puff, he walked around the room, looking for the nearest exit, and Harrison moved with him, always ten feet away.

He was really good at that. Always ten feet away; never more, never less. With his stoic nature, Quinton would think that Harrison was a thoroughly bred soldier in his mid-thirties, but they were around the same age. They were around the same age and yet Harrison had accomplished more so far than Quinton would do in his entire life.

Quinton stole a glance behind him, only to make brief eye contact with Harrison, and suddenly remembered that Harrison was far from stoic. He was too far away, but up close, Quinton could see how sad Harrison's eyes were, like a puppy lost in the rain, and how sometimes the wet cement of eyes Harrison had would freeze over. Because Harrison had emotions and compassion, it made him kind and vulnerable. Meanwhile Quinton had a hard edge from numbing himself from pain, doing his best not to care about anyone or anything in life. Sometimes Quinton slipped up, but that's what made him human. On the other hand, Harrison's humane compassion made hurting his feelings a lot easier.

Sometimes, when Quinton pretended to sleep as Harrison watched, Quinton wondered if the two of them would be better off swapping places, since the bodyguard should be detached and cold while the prince should be warm and emotional. Though, as soon as he entertained the idea, Quinton would have to remind himself that it would never happen, since he was just an assignment to Harrison.

A terrible assignment, probably.

Ten weeks ago, Harrison finally snapped after two weeks of Quinton ditching school, and the bodyguard had asked why Quinton ditched school every day. Quinton had looked up at the cloudy sky with a bitter smile, saying, "There's nothing to learn in this stink hole anyway." When Quinton went to the supermarket to buy bags of prawn chips at midnight, Harrison would follow without comment, but he always seemed to be trying to convey through telepathy that you're never going to fill that empty hole in your heart. Then, last week, when they sat on the rooftop late at night to look at the night sky, sans most of the stars, Harrison had looked like he wished he had the ability to make Quinton behave. Quinton knew that no one had that ability.

Though Harrison didn't backed down. Maybe he thought that if he tried enough, Quinton would give in and just listen to Harrison, but Quinton was hoping that eventually Harrison would get tired of Quinton's shenanigans and quit. Therefore, the two of them stood at a stalemate, watching each other from across the board with no intentions of losing.

Therefore, as Quinton stole a pair of wooden chopsticks off someone's dinner setting, he made sure not to make eye contact with Harrison, who was probably looking so sad that Quinton would have no choice but to feel his gut wrench in pain. Quinton slipped out the restaurant, breathing in the city air, and, thankful for the restaurant being close to his otōsan's apartment, headed to the convenience store three blocks away. Sparing a glance behind him, Quinton saw that even in a crowd like this, Harrison was still only ten feet behind as though they were tied together by a rope.

Entering the convenience store, Quinton bought a container of shrimp instant noodles and another of beef instant noodles. The employee scanned the items, and Quinton paid with cash. After that transaction was over, Quinton took the items and walked out, only to see that Harrison was waiting for him outside, undoing the tie around his neck. Quinton wanted to say something but decided to wait, instead just walking to the tall apartment complex, relishing in the way Harrison followed ten feet behind. At the end of the day, the two of them knew that Harrison had no say in whatever Quinton did.

After greeting the security guards, they took off their shoes in the genkan and walked into the kitchen, where Harrison started to boil the water. They waited for an eternity for the water to boil, but once it did, they prepared the two containers of instant noodles and sat down at the dinner table. Quinton passed the container of beef instant noodles to Harrison, gulping when he realized that they were loose enough for their knees to brush if either of them moved. (Neither of them would move.) "You can use the fork that comes with it," Quinton said, checking the time on the wall. Another minute until it was ready.

"I don't like using chopsticks anyway," Harrison said, and Quinton sat up, unsure if Harrison actually said something. Those were the first words Quinton heard him say all day. Peeling the lid off the container, Quinton wondered if he could get more words out of Harrison. It was a game he always played with himself, trying to get Harrison to talk or show emotions. Though getting an emotion out of Harrison wasn't nearly as satisfying as words.

You should go back to the restaurant, Quinton imagined Harrison saying, but Harrison never moved his mouth, only eating his noodles. Quinton looked down at his noodles, wishing to be the noodles. To be drowning and about to consumed would be a nice feeling. To be drowning and consumed by everything around him was probably less effort than eating.

Quinton took a bite, only to find it was too hot, but continued to eat despite it. His scalded tongue was worth feeling alive. You have a responsibility, Harrison might say, and Quinton took a bite of a small piece of shrimp and looked up at Harrison. Quinton always lost this game.

Looking up from his food as if to say something, Harrison instead instantly looked back down, trying his hardest not to engrave the memory of Quinton staring at him. No matter what Harrison tried to do, it failed, because no matter how much hope Quinton had crushed when they first met, Harrison found himself hypnotized by the boy and believing every propaganda the country gave out. Quinton was the current prince of Japan and was going to save the country from war. Quinton was the current prince of Japan and was the reincarnation of some famous king. That was what everyone believed, and even though Harrison should stay detached, he believed too. Despite himself, he was a believer, even if it resulted in an endless cycle of gaining hope and getting crushed, all because Harrison couldn't be detached like he was told his entire life to be and like the contract told him to be. After all, caring led to mistakes, and if Quinton died, so did Harrison. That was why the ten feet rule Quinton implemented killed him, since every inch of distance between them amplified danger. (Quinton's life wasn't in danger, given there only being one assassination attempt in sixteen years, but Harrison sometimes let his mind wander and think about what would happen if someone tried to kill Quinton. And he always went back to the same thought: with or without the contract, he would take a bullet for Quinton.)

You can't just run away. You're the prince. Harrison's mouth never moved except to chew on his food. Frowning, Quinton looked down at his half eaten container of noodles and used his left hand to tap the back of his left ear, where the family brand had been tattooed on him. It felt like a prison.

Harrison knew what Quinton was tapping: the Aoki family brand that sealed a person's fate when they got it. Picking up some noodles with his fork, Harrison wished that he could take Quinton's place as savior of Japan. That way, Quinton would be happy and unimportant, and Harrison could play whatever propaganda or shenanigans Quinton had to do, because seeing Quinton happy was more important than his own life. Plus, if Quinton continued to not cooperate, his parents would make Harrison punish the prince, and then the prince would hate Harrison, but Harrison had to do his job or else be removed from the assignment. And no matter what, Harrison could not be removed from Quinton's assignment. Not only would his family disown him for not living up to the task (Harrison was from a family of soldiers, so when he was born with a brain of a scholar, it only made sense to breed him to be Prince Aoki's future bodyguard), Harrison would never forgive himself. His entire life, only one life mattered to Harrison, and it wasn't his own.

After all, Harrison knew the cracks and crevices of Quinton's body better than his own. That was what he had spent his entire life doing – studying the prince, living for the prince, loving the prince. Harrison was loyal to the royal family and his own family, sure, and he memorized the vow of loyalty he had given when he was only ten years old, but his heart had always belonged to Quinton Aoki, the prince that Harrison was dedicating his entire life into protecting. And it really was his entire life – if Quinton died, so would Harrison.

If I'd been ten seconds later, you'd be dead, Harrison would say if Quinton only escaped death because Harrison saved him. Harrison wouldn't add the, and so would I, that hung in the air, that hung in the air only because of the contract Harrison signed. Quinton gulped, knowing that no matter what, Harrison would take a knife for him because of a signature on a piece of paper, not because Harrison cared about Quinton like he wanted to believe. After all, Quinton was just a terrible assignment.

"I'm bored of life." Quinton played with his noodles, the tips of the wooden chopsticks already dark from the soup, and his eyes darted up to Harrison, looking for a reaction. None. "I'm bored of living. You try being the prince." Unsurprisingly, Harrison didn't even acknowledge Quinton say anything. He ate another mouthful of noodles calmly, and Quinton tightened his grip on his chopsticks. He could never escape anyone's grasp, but he was still alone, because no one cared about him deeply and passionately and meaningfully. No one, including himself.

That was the reason he ditched school, not because he had nothing to learn. At school, everyone only saw him as the future savior of their country, and at home, his parents only saw him as the son made only to carry on the lineage, and at the palace, the officials only saw him as a tool to use in their games. The only thing that remained constant between all those places were Quinton's thoughts and Harrison's presence (like Harrison's presence was any reconciliation).

And at life, Quinton only saw him as a puppet living someone else's idea.

"I live for nothing," Quinton said, picking up momentum, knowing that Harrison would listen no matter what. Harrison always listened to whatever Quinton say, burning the words into his mind. This time, Harrison only drank the soup from the instant noodles as a response. Quinton gritted his teeth. How hard was it for him to speak? "No one is there for me, not even you. You're there, at the corner of my eye, but you don't even like me. I'm just an assignment to you, aren't I?"

Harrison wanted to say something but bit back his reply. Professionalism was key. Detachment was key. Lack of emotions was key. He took all his emotions starting from the top of his head and let them all pool at the tips of his toes like a waterfall. Waterfall, waterfall, waterfall. He couldn't entertain Quinton's idea that speaking out of turn was okay. He couldn't entertain Quinton's idea that ditching functions was okay. He couldn't entertain Quinton's idea that Harrison genuinely cared about him, even if it was true.

"See, you don't even like me. I'm just an assignment. That's fine with me, since my future and my life isn't my own. It's everyone else's. You have a better chance shaping my future than me, but it's really my parents and all those stupid officials doing all the shaping and molding. My parents don't even care about me." Quinton glanced up at Harrison, who was as unemotional than ever. Great. He sucked at the one game he enjoyed playing. Biting down on his chopsticks, Quinton exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes. He imagined Harrison telling him that he cared about Quinton. The words never came. Despite the fact Quinton tried to make him not care that others didn't care about him, he still wanted someone to look at him like he was the best thing in the world. Harrison just seemed to be the person to be that, but he wasn't. Quinton felt something break inside of him, and he was holding back tears as he continued speaking. "I'm always alone. At the palace, at home, in a crowd, whatever. I've always been alone, Harrison." Saying Harrison's name would make him speak. Harrison was always address me as Chang-san or don't address me at all and calling me by my first name shows familiarity and no one calls me Harrison, but the guard didn't even flinch at the mention of his name. This sucked. Everyone always let Quinton win. Everyone but Harrison. "Everything is falling apart, and I'm alone. I'll always be alone, because my philosophy is that everyone suffers alone."

The waterfall inside Harrison began to overflow, drowning everything else out so that it was only Quinton and him standing in the water, their shoes and edge of their dress pants wet. The water level rose higher and higher, and soon Harrison found himself drowning, drowning, drowning, but Quinton standing across from him was barely wet, looking at Harrison through the water with unemotional eyes. "You don't. Not while I'm around."

The corner of Quinton's lip quirked upwards. He won. As rare as it was, arguments with Harrison were always fun. "Liar."

"You've never been alone."

"Don't lie, Harrison. It isn't very nice of you." Harrison was always so rigid that Quinton couldn't help but enjoy the experience of conversing with him, especially since underneath all that silence, Harrison said the funniest things. You're less safe the farther I am. No one calls me Harrison. The daughter of that ambassador was flirting with you. None of the sentences were funny, but the words coming out of Harrison's mouth and then translating into Quinton's head always made them hilarious. In Quinton's mind, Harrison was a regular comedian. ("No one calls me Harrison." "I do.") ("The daughter of that ambassador was flirting with you." "Why? Are you jealous? You know you're the only one who hangs out with me anyway.") Quinton was about to giggle when Harrison said the words he never expected to hear.

"You've never been alone, ever since I was old enough to walk." Quinton was silent as Harrison's blood boiled. Because he was speaking out of turn. Because he was entertaining Quinton's behavior. Because he was closing the ten feet gap between the two of them. "I've been training to be your bodyguard since you were born. I've been watching you since I was six. I've been there for every graduation of yours so far. I've been there at every stuffy meal that you only attended for five minutes before slipping away."

(Quinton could feel Harrison's breath fanning on the back of his neck as he walked to school in his uniform, tied loosened, so he had stopped in the middle of the road and turned. Harrison stopped walking with him, his expression emotionless. "You can't stand that close to me.")

"When I was sixteen, I followed you when you left a function, and you were standing underneath an overhang, eating a blue popsicle. You were tapping the tattoo behind your ear like you do when you're sad, watching the rain, and that was when I decided to get a tattoo." Harrison stood up, and Quinton's eyes followed him. Inhaling deeply, Harrison took off his tie, took off his suit jacket, and then undid the buttons on his shirt, closing his eyes and knowing that he could still back out. He could still be detached after this. He opened his eyes and saw Quinton staring at the four letters on Harrison's left breast, the same letters behind Quinton's ear, the same four letters, in the same order, in the same font, in the same size, in the same fashion. He decided to screw it. He had never been detached from Quinton.

("You're less safe the farther I am.")

"Aoki," Quinton whispered, getting up and walking around the table. It felt like an eternity to him, him going through a thousand different lifetimes just to get to Harrison's side. A lifetime where they didn't know each other. A lifetime where one was left without the other. A lifetime where they were together. A lifetime where they didn't live in the same lifetime. When Quinton reached Harrison's side, he was at a loss of what to do. His fingers instinctively went to touch the tattoo, and three centimeters away touching it, Quinton paused and looked at Harrison for permission. When he nodded, Quinton put his hand over the tattoo and felt Harrison's heartbeat underneath the cold skin. Da-dump. Da-dump. Tap. Tap. Quinton was satisfied with dying now. He would drown in an ocean somewhere thinking that he lived a full life. Da-dump. Da-dump. Tap. Tap.

("Ten feet. You have to stay ten feet away from me.")

He was melting as Quinton's heat entered Harrison's body, but Harrison did his best to hide it. "You knew I always left functions," Quinton said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was never actually alone." I never suffered alone. That thought almost terrified Quinton, because where was Harrison when he was five and fell from his bicycle in the palace garden and not a single guard had come up to him and asked him if he was okay? Where had Harrison been hiding when Quinton had cried for fifteen minutes until a maid found him near a bush of roses? Where had Harrison watched Quinton burn himself with a conventional oven when he was six, only to have a chef had just pushed him into the hallway when he started to cry?

("That's too dangerous.")

Where had Harrison been when he was seven and his brother died minutes after birth, and the doctor who had told him just stood there as Quinton cried? Where had Harrison been watching Quinton cry all these years? Only two people had known Quinton cried when his brother died – Quinton and the doctor – but suddenly Harrison knew too. That Quinton had cried when the brother he was supposed to have, whom Quinton had talked to every night, died. What am I supposed to do now? Quinton remembered asking the doctor, and where had Harrison stood to watch that? The doctor had shrugged callously. The doctor was used to death. Like I know, the doctor had said. It's your future. Did Harrison see that scene? Hear the words spoken? Know what the doctor's advice meant? Because it was only today that Quinton understood the advice. It felt surreal that Harrison might've known what those words meant before Quinton – Prince Aoki, the one to take the throne and save Japan from the war – did. Quinton has always had one future, but now that he was with Harrison, the not-so-callous guard always watching, Quinton knew that regardless of his dead brother, his divorced parents, his patriotic citizens, the only future he wanted was one with Harrison in it. That was worth more than himself. After all, Harrison cared about Quinton. Actually cared. With all his heart and more. That was more than what Quinton could do. And in that moment, Quinton realized that he cared about Harrison in a way he had never cared before.

("So what? It's my future, not yours.")

Harrison had a warm heart but was as cold as the moon, and Quinton was cold to people but had skin as warm as the sun. The contrast made Harrison think that despite their obvious dissimilarities, he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to leave Quinton's side, he never wanted to be farther than ten feet away from Quinton, and he never wanted Quinton to let go. For some reason, that reminded Harrison of the doctor who had given Harrison his tattoo and what she told him that he never fully understood until today. The doctor who had just stared as Harrison had gestured to the area on his chest and explained to give him the Aoki family brand right there. The doctor who listened to Harrison's otōsan's advice and tried to talk Harrison out of getting the tattoo that connected Quinton and him.

(Harrison, unable to respond to Quinton's statement, took steps backwards until he was ten feet away. He had an answer for Quinton, but he had to stay detached, and as the two walked to the private high school, Harrison mumbled underneath his breath, "Your future is my future.")

The doctor looked at the area Harrison wanted to get the tattoo, squinting slightly to get a better look. "I can do that. I do the tattoos for the royal family, so it's not that big of a deal. It's going to hurt to put it there, though. You sure you don't want it somewhere else?" Harrison shrugged, and she started to disinfect the area. The alcohol swab stung. "Why are you even getting a tattoo of the Aoki family brand?" The doctor opened a drawer and took out a kit full of needles. "You're a young man with high prospects, and I know you know you can't remove a tattoo once it's there. It'll be there forever, and any future spouse might not like the fact you're getting this tattoo."

"I don't have a future to think about," Harrison immediately replied, looking out the window and thinking of all the lives in Japan that Prince Aoki was supposed to save. The prince didn't even care about any of those lives, as he was probably sulking on a park bench somewhere, eating a monaka. Harrison was probably worse, since the only life he cared for was someone outside of himself. Quinton at least cared a little about himself, and that was more than Harrison could do. "My future's in limbo."

Making an indecipherable sound, the doctor cleaned another needle. "The Chang's have all been great soldiers, and I've heard you're going to be Quinton's bodyguard someday. How is that a future that's been put in limbo?"

Ignoring the fact that she used Quinton's given name, Harrison wondered how the doctor knew he was from the Chang family. The eyes probably gave it away, since Harrison was told the entire Chang family had sad eyes. "Prince Aoki and I haven't stood ten feet away from each other yet. That's a future in limbo."

The doctor made another indecipherable sound. "You still have a future, even if it's in limbo. You're a bright kid, Chang-kun." Harrison ignored the honorific. "Maybe something good's going to happen to you in the future. You shouldn't get a tattoo and regret it later."

"My otōsan talked to you."

Shrugging, the doctor looked up from her tools. "That he did. That doesn't change the fact that you should think about your future for a second. Making an impulsive move like this isn't a good thing. You have a bright future."

Making eye contact with her, Harrison did his best to look and sound callous despite the emotions flowing inside of him. Waterfall, waterfall, waterfall, Harrison. "I am proud of being bred to be the best soldier of all time for Prince Aoki, and I want this tattoo. Nothing my otōsan can say will change that."

"Even if he said he'll disown you for getting this instead of your family name?"

She made that up. There was no way his otōsan would disown Harrison, the ideal son. Smart and ruthless. Smart and compassionate. Smart and weak. "Yes."

"Get your tattoo then. It's your future anyway," the doctor said. "Just remember, it may be your future, but your actions affect everyone around you. This tattoo's going to affect someone someday. Be careful who you show this too." To this day, Harrison had always wondered what his otōsan had said to that doctor, but he realized now that hadn't been the important part. This tattoo's going to affect someone someday. Somehow the doctor knew that Harrison was going to end up here, showing Quinton his tattoo and changing the two of their lives forever.

When Quinton removed his hand from Harrison's chest, Harrison came back to reality, immediately focusing on Quinton, who was smiling like the sun just came up. "I like you like this." Harrison raised an eyebrow, and Quinton couldn't even be angry at the fact Harrison wasn't speaking. "I like you like this, Harrison. Vulnerable. Mine. Always there for me."

Harrison looked like he wanted to say something, so Quinton waited. He would wait an eternity if he had to. "If you like me like this, why didn't you like me before?"

Laughter escaped from Quinton's lips. Harrison always said the funniest things. "Maybe I did but didn't realize it."

"That seems like something you would realize."

Punching him lightly in the shoulder, Quinton said, "Don't be so rigid, Harrison."

Harrison narrowed his eyes. "You call everyone by honorifics, even those you refer to by first name."

"I used an honorific with your name before." A shake of Harrison's head proved exactly what Quinton thought. Somewhere deep within his soul, Quinton had always known that Harrison was special. "Well then, Harrison, you're just special."

"I'd rather not." Lie, but Quinton didn't have to know. Though the lie was as transparent as water, judging by the way Quinton decided to mess with Harrison.

"Tons of people would love to be special to Prince Aoki, the future savior of Japan." Quinton walked over to the couch, and Harrison followed close by. "I'm offended you don't love it." He leaned forward when they got to the couch, examining Harrison's face close-up. "Or maybe you do but don't want to admit it?"

Harrison didn't dare move and prove his weakness, so he stood still. That would upset Quinton. He was always poutier when Harrison didn't speak.

"Come on, Harrison, you know you love it." Quinton sat on the couch. "Come on, just admit it. You love me, don't you, Harrison?"

Part of him wanted to shut Quinton up, and part of Harrison wanted Quinton to go back to being the uncaring guy he used to be. Then again, Quinton had never been uncaring. He had been a caring guy who tried to be uncaring to hide all the fear inside of him. Either way, Harrison had seen through that, since Quinton had still shined with absolute clarity. "I admit it. I love you." Quinton instantly quieted, not expecting the out-of-character action, and Harrison wanted to smirk. He finally understood what was so fun with Quinton's games, so he decided to play his own game. "Everyone suffers alone, you know."

Quinton lied down on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, that was my old philosophy," Quinton said, looking over at Harrison now. "I don't believe it anymore, not when I know you were always there. What about it?"

"You don't." The same person. The same conversation. The same words. A completely different feeling. "Not while I'm around."

The game became apparent now. "Liar," Quinton said, feigning innocence. Harrison knew he caught onto the game.

"You've never been alone."

"Don't lie, Harrison. It isn't very nice of you."

"You've never been alone, ever since I was old enough to walk."

Quinton resisted the urge to smile and shifted his gaze back to the ceiling. Playing these games with Harrison was a lot more fun than playing them alone. "L-I-A-R."

Harrison looked at the ceiling with Quinton. They were looking at the same set of atoms, but they were both seeing wildly different things. No two people see the world the same way, and that certainly applied to the two of them. "If not me, history. Your entire existence is history."

"I hate history."

"History only goes one way."

The two of them fell silent and stared at the same set of atoms above them. Eventually Quinton shifted his gaze from the ceiling to Harrison. Harrison would never see his face the same way Quinton did. No two people see the world the same way. "I don't know what's going to happen." What happened when he saved Japan? Would he still be here with Harrison?

"Me neither."

He closed his eyes. Emotions were draining. Worrying was draining. Thinking about the future was draining. "Tell me your story."

"When you wake up." Harrison's voice sounded farther than it should've. He didn't want Harrison standing ten feet away anymore. He wanted something else. He didn't know what he wanted.

"Hm," Quinton mumbled, unbelieving. When he saved Japan, everything was going to change.

"I'll be here when you wake up." Harrison looked at Quinton's resting face. Harrison was always there, watching Quinton even as he slept. So now, he continued to watch Quinton. This wasn't something new, but this time it felt different. It felt like his insides the day Quinton had looked at him and smiled. It was middle school graduation, and Quinton was looking around instead of posing for pictures. Though when Quinton had seen Harrison, he had stared and made eye contact longer than necessary, but long enough so that when someone told him to smile, Quinton did. He had looked directly at Harrison and smiled all those years ago, not knowing who Harrison was and not looking at Harrison, but it had been good enough for Harrison. Quinton only remembered being asked to smile for what felt like a million pictures. "And I'll tell you then."

A reply was in order, but Quinton's eyes were glued shut and words were too heavy now, so he slept. Sometimes he snored when he slept, and sometimes he drooled when he slept, but that wasn't his problem right now. His body was unconscious but his mind wasn't, and that meant that his problems weren't his anymore. Harrison would have to deal with that, and as Quinton slept, he dreamed.

And Harrison was still there.

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endnotes ‣ logistically, I know that I should use their non-English names since this takes place in an non-English country, but let's pretend it's acceptable, okay? though I hoped you enjoyed Quinton and Harrison, since I spent more time on this than I should've (this is 18 pages MLA format and clocks at 5,500 words)... if you enjoyed this (and if you didn't), go read Proxy and Guardian by Alex London! there's a very, very high chance you'll enjoy it.