[ Harold is suddenly near, suddenly there, and John is frozen for a moment where he doesn't know what to do— but then he gently wraps his arms around Harold's shoulders. It's a loose gesture, almost unsure. Is he allowed to have this? Harold doesn't know his feelings, doesn't know that John has longed for this. If he returns this gesture in full, is that deception? Is that a lie of omission?
But John is weak and full of longing and pain so he wraps his arms tighter around Harold. Lets himself feel Harold's warmth, the texture of his suit under his hands. Engraves the shape of Harold into his mind. He may never get this again and he's so greedy for it, he has to etch every part of this moment in his memory.
There's nothing for him to say, because anything he could say would be a damning admission of how much he loves Harold, how full his heart is in this moment. The want, the sadness, the joy. He will let this moment last as long as Harold will allow. ]
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But John is weak and full of longing and pain so he wraps his arms tighter around Harold. Lets himself feel Harold's warmth, the texture of his suit under his hands. Engraves the shape of Harold into his mind. He may never get this again and he's so greedy for it, he has to etch every part of this moment in his memory.
There's nothing for him to say, because anything he could say would be a damning admission of how much he loves Harold, how full his heart is in this moment. The want, the sadness, the joy. He will let this moment last as long as Harold will allow. ]