Or: The Very Soft and Cute Beginnings of Hantoni Porowski-Styles
i literally??? could not??? have done this without paloma @kissyharriex she’s the best and came to my rescue when i was being a big baby about this. also y’all know i post like zero (0) writing on here so uhhh enjoy and if you hate it then lie to me and say you love it ok thanks!
It’s like when you come home from a long trip. The smells are familiar, and you know where every light switch is, even in the dark. Your shoulders automatically slump in relief, and you feel the floating warmth of comfort wash over you.
That’s what it felt like the first time Harry saw him.
It was in a bright bar with arcade games and a 90s karaoke machine in the corner. Harry felt like he was back at university in London when he was forced out to grody pubs with uncomfortable seating and cheap liquor. Nevertheless, he wasn’t one to turn down an open bar or the opportunity to toy with a few men who either knew who he was or wished they knew.
He was always being invited to these sorts of things. Owners and promoters figured it was free press to have people like Harry at their events. He was the prince of Williamsburg, a trust fund baby who made a career out of fortnight romances and weekend getaways across the world. Everyone knew who he was, and he knew everyone.
Except for one person.
Harry’s brain short circuited when he glanced at the door that had opened to let a chill air into the room. A man with deep, tender eyes and a nervous mouth stood in front of the entrance. And before Harry even knew his name, he already knew what he wanted from him.
Harry was brave. He never shied away from a challenge or raised a white flag in the face of defeat. All his conquests had been a result of Harry’s charm and determination.
He came, he saw, and he conquered. That’s just what it was like for him.
He took a sip of his drink and brushed the man’s shoulder with his own. He turned, looking at Harry with those deep brown eyes of his, a little too warm and inviting for Harry’s liking. He just smirked while sliding up to the barstool next to him. He pretended to pay no attention, chatting to some of the other guests around him, causally sneaking a glance to the other side to see if he was looking.
“I’m Antoni,”
The man had said while sticking his hand out for Harry to shake. Harry glanced at him, raising his eyebrow.
“Harry,” he said, holding out his hand as well, but barely lasting for a proper shake. He quickly returned back to his conversation with some self proclaimed influencer from Los Angeles.
Soon enough, there was no one, so Harry turned back towards the man, Antoni, and asked the bartender for another drink.
“Do you reckon I can pull this off?” He asked, tugging at the bright red turtleneck he had worn.
Antoni just replied with a “sure,” so Harry sighed loudly and said, “It’s the color of my aura.” Not for anyone in particular to hear really, just whoever cared enough to listen.
He leaned in, closing the distance between himself and Antoni’s stool.
“I believe that,” Antoni replied, taking his drink, and walking away to talk to what seemed like an old friend.
It turned out Antoni was well-known among the invitees of this bar opening. The owner was Antoni’s former classmate in Montreal.
Harry, typically the life of the party within most scenes in Brooklyn, pouted his way through four vodka Sprites before scanning the room to find Antoni again. He made a path in his brain before sliding off the stool and sauntering over to the other side of the small bar, wriggling his way into the tiny circle of people crowded around the karaoke machine.
“Excuse me, I’ve got something very important to do,” Harry said, to no one in particular again, but completely meaning for Antoni to hear. He turned around to face the rest of the people in the bar, refraining from making eye contact with anyone but the man in front of him. Maybe it was his earnest gaze or the way he looked at Harry like he wasn’t afraid of him. Whatever it was, Harry knew that he’d do anything to be on the receiving end of Antoni’s affections.
Harry crouched down to click through the songs before he found the one he was hoping for. The song that never failed to get him laid. His conquests were putty in his hands when he slinked around them, the charisma vibrating off of him too infectious for them to resist.
The synth music and empty bits where Whitney Houston’s riffs usually went played through the speakers and Harry shook off what little nerves he had before taking a sultry stance and following the words to “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” all while trying his damndest to make his dreamiest bedroom eyes at Antoni.
Antoni’s notice was genuine but minimal, even when Harry hammed it up and began grabbing other men from the crowd to participate in his one man show.
“Hey, you,” he called, breathless, after the end of his performance. Antoni looked away from the person he was talking to and raised his eyebrows at Harry with inquiry.
“Could you be a doll and get me another drink?” Harry asked, grabbing Antoni’s wrist gently.
“What are you drinking?”
“Whatever you want me to drink,” he replied, winking and turning around to choose another song.
Antoni came back with some dark concoction that Harry was determined to drink because not only would it get him drunk, it would also show Antoni he was agreeable and easygoing. He choked down the first one fast before batting his eyelashes and asking for another. He didn’t dare ask what was in it, but rather could only focus on how the drink was catching up with him. His head was spinning, and normally this was when he would start to feel extra courageous and boldly make his move. But his stomach churned in the bad way.
Antoni had disappeared, and Harry was stood against a wall, nervously scrolling through his phone. It was a weird sensation, not having an entourage or acquaintance to fall into. Why had he come in the first place? It certainly had never bothered him before to go to places alone. Why was he bothered now? Regardless, he was flustered to no end that he was pulling out all the stops for Antoni and it wasn’t working.
Moving in all sorts of contortions while taking a seat again at the bar, his face melted into his palm.
“Hello!” He called over to one of the bartenders, rather loudly. “Hello. Hi. Got a question for you. Could you perhaps tell me what’s in this? My...friend brought it to me.”
The bartender eyed him warily. “It’s a long island iced tea...would you like some water?”
Harry sighed, burying his face in his hands. “No thanks,” he slurred.
“What do you think about this shirt, mate?” He stared down at his red turtleneck, frowning at the bits of liquid that had fallen onto it from previous drinks. “Can I pull it off?”
The bartender snickered at his question, and Harry furrowed his face. “Oi!” He started, his index finger raised in protest. The sudden movement caused his ears to start ringing and his vision to blur a bit.
“I don’t…” he started before he climbed off the stool and ran towards the front door, turning a sharp corner once he was out, to a small, dark alley. He ignored the group of people next to him, barely caring that the next time he was out and about, someone would incessantly tease him about throwing up at some random bar opening.
He hadn’t thrown up like that since uni, and on top of it all, it just had to be when he was wearing that goddamned red turtleneck. He quite liked it, thought it was a bit of a bold statement piece.
He shut his eyes, once he thought was s done spilling his guts, and slid down the brick wall, feeling like he wanted to cry a bit.
He heard an oddly familiar voice, getting closer to him and he didn’t really want to open his eyes because he knew that once he did, there’s no way that he would ever look at him in the eyes again.
He tried to ignore it, but he knew he had that gorgeous man standing in front of him, asking him if he was okay. And frankly he wasn’t, but he couldn’t help but blink them open.
“Want some water?” Antoni asked, handing him a bottle and looking at him like he had just witnessed a puppy being kicked.
Sipping the water made Harry’s stomach feel all icky again and in no time, he was throwing up again, this time on Antoni’s leather shoes.
In that moment, he wished the cracked pavement he was sitting on would open up and swallow him.
“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” Harry said, immediately trying to stand up all frantic and not knowing what to do.
“It’s okay,” Antoni waved his hands in objection. Harry recognized the look on his face - polite aversion.
“Let me go get a rag or something to clean them with. Do you want to wear mine? Shit, I’m sorry. What shoe size-”
“Harry,” Antoni put his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “Calm down. You’re gonna make yourself sick all over again.”
“But you can’t just walk around with vom all over your shoes.”
“They’ll be okay,” He said in a hushed voice. He slid down the wall, just as Harry had earlier and sat next to him.
“I’m mortified,” Harry whispered.
“If I had a dollar for every time I threw up outside of a bar I’d be a millionaire.”
“I bet you haven’t thrown up on the shoes of someone you’ve been trying to flirt with the whole night,” Harry sighed with a sad laugh hidden in the back of his throat.
They made eye contact for a millisecond, and the look in Antoni’s eyes confirmed everything he had been thinking about all night. Antoni wasn’t going to be a quick shag or a two-week lover’s parade around the city. Harry couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him, but the thought alone was terrifying.
“God,” Harry changed the subject, “who would’ve thought that a fucking Long Island iced tea could’ve killed me?”
Antoni laughed and looked down at his lap, “It just so happens that I’ve got the perfect remedy for too many of those,” he grinned.
“Do you now?” Harry raised his eyebrows at him.
“I do actually,” He started, “I could show you if you’d like, I only live a couple of blocks away from here.”
“How can I be sure you’re not going to kill me and stuff me in a dumpster?” Harry asked, only half-joking. This was too good to be real.
“Google me,” Antoni replied. “You’ll find too much about me to know I’m not a murderer.”
Harry pulled out his phone and did a quick search to find his Instagram, with 2.5 million followers, and a well-populated Wikipedia article.
“Self-assured, are we?” Harry asked, looking up from the screen to see Antoni staring at him eagerly.
A part of Harry wanted to say that he couldn’t -- the embarrassment alone had bruised his ego too deeply. But this is what he had been trying to do all night, right? Get Antoni to be all his?
So he nodded and smiled, taking the hand Antoni offered to get up. “As long as I don’t end up in a bin somewhere,” he murmured in jest.
They ended up in an uber -- Harry’s head was pounding and he didn’t think he’d survive a walk to Antoni’s apartment in his “sensitive condition” as he put it. Harry had experienced his share of awkward cab rides, but he was so nervous he swore Antoni could hear his heart thumping from across the seat.
“I’m really sorry about your shoes,” he started.
“Harry - please stop apologizing.”
“Sor-” he started, but stopped himself. Antoni just smiled and shook his head.
They made it to Antoni’s apartment without much talking, just Antoni commenting on what a shame getting puke on that red turtle neck was. “It’s quite the statement piece,” he told Harry. It was all Harry could do not to puke all over again, but not from the liquor.
Antoni’s place was as airy as a small New York City apartment could be -- plants nestled in the corners and vintage French posters on the walls. Harry scanned the den and his eyes landed on a small bookshelf lined with vinyl records. Harry’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw the pieces in the collection.
“Are you joking?” Harry gawked.
Antoni explained to him that most of the collection had been given to him by his grandfather, who brought them with him after migrating from Poland.
“I didn’t even know half these albums came in vinyl,” he ran his fingers through them, stopping at an Amy Winehouse record that was frayed at the edges and looked like it was constantly played. “May I?”
“Of course. Great choice,” Antoni said from behind him, already with a kitchen towel on his shoulder.
Harry just hummed to that and shut his eyes for the first few spins before turning around and sitting on a stool facing Antoni.
He wasn’t wearing his leather jacket anymore and the thin material of his shirt showed off his back muscles, which Harry had a difficult time ignoring as he moved swiftly around his kitchen.
Harry watched over the island, trying to reconcile the night in his mind. He had messily tried to get with a really hot guy, to seemingly no avail, which rarely ever happened. Then he got wasted and as a result, threw up on said hot guy but somehow still ended up at his place. He knew the formula, but the pieces weren’t fitting together quite right.
The smells began to float around the room and after a few moments, Antoni was plating the most delicate grilled cheese and sliding it in front of him. “Muenster and gouda. Mayo instead of butter. A little bit of garlic powder,” Antoni explained simply before placing a cloth napkin and a bottle of coconut water in front of him as well.
“Wow...five star service here,” Harry chuckled. Maybe he should barf on guys more often.
Antoni shrugged sheepishly in response, then leaned on the island
“Harry…if you knew the drink I gave you would make you sick, why did you drink it?”
“To be polite,” Harry replied after a small silence.
“Why?” Antoni asked, confused and slightly skeptical. Harry was nice, but he didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way to please a stranger.
“Because I wanted you to think I was down for anything,” He said after taking a bite, “which I still am, by the way! I just need to maybe pace myself next time you give me a drink with five different liquors in it.”
“You can stick to your Vodka Sprite next time.”
“How did you know I was drinking Vodka Sprite?”
“Smelled it on your breath when you were practically pissing on me to mark your territory,” Antoni said, looking down at the counter and pretending to clean a spot with his dish towel.
Harry’s jaw dropped, he didn’t expect that at all. Antoni just came closer, and there was no longer a kitchen island to separate them.
“I...no comment,” Harry said finally.
“I thought you’d be one to dish it back,” Antoni replied.
“Wasn’t expecting you to call me out on my antics.”
“Wasn’t expecting you to be so obvious.”
“Shh,” Harry pouted. “Let me finish my toastie.”
“You mean you’re not going to share?”
“Oh, did you want some?” Harry offered it to him.
Antoni leaned into Harry’s hand where the half-eaten grilled cheese was. He stared up and Harry and gingerly took a bite of the sandwich.
Harry willed his skin not to blush from Antoni’s proximity. Instead, he took a drink of the coconut water and tried to focus on keeping his breath steady. He wasn’t used to being this speechless. Usually you couldn’t stop him from mewling sweet words into people’s ears as he worked to wrap them around his finger. But he couldn’t utter a sound.
I just saw this thing on Pinterest, it was a parsley plant that said “Elvis Parsley” on the pot. In hantoni, Antoni would plant the plants and let Harry name them :’))))
ooh ok i think it’d be really cute if they met through shared friends who were always trying to set them up but it never worked out because timing was never right . one day though they’re at a dinner party and neither of them know many people there. they know of each other and kinda use that as a conversation starter and that leads to them talking about anything and everything. harry thinks antoni is super handsome and sweet and vice versa. they realize how much they have in common+
+they exchange numbers but don’t rlly talk until they run into each other at a cute diner when they’re both having bad days. they start talking again, until they get kicked it because of laughing too hard. they walk around brooklyn and go into a record shop and it feels a bit like a dream for both because taking to someone you have only known for a few weeks is so natural and feels so right. antoni makes harry blush like no one has before and he makes fun of his non existing earlobes+
+they’re both big romance saps but this is so different from what they expected was ever going to happen or like anything they have experienced. harry, who is usually emotionally intelligent, doesn’t know how to handle all these sudden emotions bc he’s never been in a serious relationship or even liked someone as much as he likes antoni. he freaks out and doesn’t talk to him as much after realizing that he’s become such a big part of his life in less than a month & the thought of that is v scary
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oh fuck, okay, like so maybe harry has like these very intense, very fleeting relationships (like a week or two tops) so he’s used to like, insane attraction and passion etc. but with antoni, it’s like he feels so warm inside because he’s just so KIND and accepting of harry’s neurotic tendencies. it feels soft but hot and like magic and like they’re a little bit of the same person.
colocar para fora no ano que prometi para mim mesmo que eu serei mais uma vez minha prioridade, priorizar minha alma a se sentir abençoada, iluminar meus dias com realizações de pequenos sonhos e grandes obviamente.
e claro terá espaço para amar muito, amar todos que fazem parte da minha historia, e que farão também, não há limite para amar e nunca quero e este limite chegue, enquanto estiver vivo serei intenso com minha vida!
