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xx-thedarklord-xx:

              Harry’s stomach began to churn, causing him to think he might vomit. The only thing keeping him still was the knowledge that he was in public and it would be someone else’s job to clean it up. The sound of people bustling around was calming in a way. Everyone has lives to lead and his own seemed insignificant when in comparison to others in a city so large.  

               The urge to run back to his small flat was a giant itch under his skin. He could retreat and come back another day. Only, Harry knew that if he didn’t do this now, he never would. The urge to tell someone was strong, so strong.

               Years of self-doubt and a subtle denial led to the anxious energy that he couldn’t seem to shake. Harry had always known that he liked girls, but never stopped to consider boys until recently. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the bigoted words uncle Vernon used to spout at any given moment. It took a few slow breaths until he was able to come back to himself, content with the knowledge that his uncle is a raging homophobe and someone he never has to see again.

               Bisexual. The word felt foreign on his tongue, never allowing himself the chance to tell someone. Bisexual. The word causing a fresh wave of anxiety to enter his veins, and he wondered if he could do this. Bisexual. The word is tentative but welcoming in a way Harry never experienced before. Bisexual. The word is a part of who he is.

              Harry is bisexual, and he has to tell someone. Anyone.

               It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had the opportunity to tell his friends. He knows Ron and Hermione would accept him, he does, at least his subconscious does anyway. His flutter of nerves stopped him every time he tried to tell them.

               If Harry couldn’t tell his friends, then he wanted to tell someone. If he didn’t, then the anxiety was going to win. He didn’t want to repress his bisexuality anymore. Which is why he went out and randomly joined a queue, Harry wasn’t even sure what the line was for. Food? Theater? There had been a large crowd of people and he had figured his chances were high to find a pleasant face among them.

               The person in front of him was an elderly lady, who held herself rigidly and smelled a bit like Neville’s grandma. That had him a bit wary. Harry looked behind him and tried not to notice how handsome the stranger was. The man looked bored and his clothes surely cost more than a month of Harry’s rent, but there was a softness to his eyes that warred with a defined sharp jaw. Blond hair slicked back in a way that Harry wanted to wreck. He was more than handsome, the word didn’t do him justice.

               When grey eyes look at him curiously, Harry wondered how he had gone so many years denying this part of him. His bisexuality was so apparent it was laughable. The man arched a pale brow when Harry said nothing, it was a bit intimidating and he wondered if the look was ever practiced.

               The itch to run morphed into a desire to speak. “I’m bisexual,” Harry blurted suddenly. He winced a little when the man lowered his brow briefly before both arched. Perhaps he should have started a conversation first.

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