[Fill] Go Fuck Yourself (3/?) (past!Harry/present!Harry) WARNINGS FOR NONCON, SELFCEST, AND UNDERAGE
anonymous
December 3 2012, 04:56:40 UTC
The eighteen-year-old Harry shudders at the memory and forces his mind to stop before it goes further. He knows how it ends. He felt it for a week afterward. Danny wasn't in school that Monday. Nor the rest of the year. Harry heard he switched schools, but it's really anybody's guess.
His mind flashes back to the tawdry pink sign and he winces. How could any fan want to lose their virginity to him? They barely knew Harry and he knew even less of them. He wouldn't make it special for them, the way he wishes his first time had been.
And the girl was so young, too, barely on the cusp of puberty and already willing to give up her childhood to him. Because, what, he flipped his hair around a bit? He was openly gay, full stop, and she still wanted to shag him. For what? So she could say she gave her virginity to a popstar? Her first time should be with someone she loved and trusted. Not him. Not some flaky wanker who would be leaving town the next day.
Harry can't keep his eyes open any longer and as he falls asleep, he wishes he could go back and save his sixteen-year-old self from that same fate.
====================
When Harry wakes up, the room is still dark. He checks his phone and sees that it's only two in the morning and he lets his head fall back against the pillows. He has a warm boy on his chest and it's not unusual enough for his sleep-hazy self to take much notice of it. He'd planned on bringing back company and he must have gone out and done that at some point. He can't see the boy's face, but he's got bouncy brown curls tucked under his chin and it makes him smile a bit. He's always liked curls, his own or otherwise.
The weight on top of him shifts and lets out a content sigh and it's kind of... familiar. Harry's mind wakes up fully and he leans over to peer at the boy's face lit up by the moon shining through the window.
Oh. Still asleep, then. Because, really, waking up with your sixteen-year-old self sprawled on top of you has no other explanation. Just for fun, he pinches his arm to check. Oww...mygod.
He's not sure how long he lays there, staring at the ceiling in shock and pinching himself. The pain doesn't stop and he's sure he'll bruise but he's got bigger problems. Namely, Harry Junior was waking up. And no, that was not a euphemism for his dick. The literal junior version of himself was waking up in his arms and he let out a whimper as he met his own green gaze.
“Who're you? What are you doing in my bed?” his younger self asks. Harry doesn't know how to be delicate in this situation so he goes for honesty.
“I'm you from the future, it seems. And you are in my bed,” he gestures, “I don't suppose you know why I went to sleep alone last night and woke up in bed with my sixteen-year-old self, do you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Sorry?”
“I'm fifteen. God I get really fit,” he murmurs and Harry has to laugh because he knows he talks slow, he does, but now he can see how annoying it can be for the other lads.
“Yeah, you kind of do. You become a popstar. Get a decent haircut," he runs off casually. The boy's mouth drops open, red and dry from sleep.
His mind flashes back to the tawdry pink sign and he winces. How could any fan want to lose their virginity to him? They barely knew Harry and he knew even less of them. He wouldn't make it special for them, the way he wishes his first time had been.
And the girl was so young, too, barely on the cusp of puberty and already willing to give up her childhood to him. Because, what, he flipped his hair around a bit? He was openly gay, full stop, and she still wanted to shag him. For what? So she could say she gave her virginity to a popstar? Her first time should be with someone she loved and trusted. Not him. Not some flaky wanker who would be leaving town the next day.
Harry can't keep his eyes open any longer and as he falls asleep, he wishes he could go back and save his sixteen-year-old self from that same fate.
====================
When Harry wakes up, the room is still dark. He checks his phone and sees that it's only two in the morning and he lets his head fall back against the pillows. He has a warm boy on his chest and it's not unusual enough for his sleep-hazy self to take much notice of it. He'd planned on bringing back company and he must have gone out and done that at some point. He can't see the boy's face, but he's got bouncy brown curls tucked under his chin and it makes him smile a bit. He's always liked curls, his own or otherwise.
The weight on top of him shifts and lets out a content sigh and it's kind of... familiar. Harry's mind wakes up fully and he leans over to peer at the boy's face lit up by the moon shining through the window.
Oh. Still asleep, then. Because, really, waking up with your sixteen-year-old self sprawled on top of you has no other explanation. Just for fun, he pinches his arm to check. Oww...mygod.
He's not sure how long he lays there, staring at the ceiling in shock and pinching himself. The pain doesn't stop and he's sure he'll bruise but he's got bigger problems. Namely, Harry Junior was waking up. And no, that was not a euphemism for his dick. The literal junior version of himself was waking up in his arms and he let out a whimper as he met his own green gaze.
“Who're you? What are you doing in my bed?” his younger self asks. Harry doesn't know how to be delicate in this situation so he goes for honesty.
“I'm you from the future, it seems. And you are in my bed,” he gestures, “I don't suppose you know why I went to sleep alone last night and woke up in bed with my sixteen-year-old self, do you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Sorry?”
“I'm fifteen. God I get really fit,” he murmurs and Harry has to laugh because he knows he talks slow, he does, but now he can see how annoying it can be for the other lads.
“Yeah, you kind of do. You become a popstar. Get a decent haircut," he runs off casually. The boy's mouth drops open, red and dry from sleep.
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