Skater Tomarry
Summary: Harry spends all his time skateboarding and Tom feels neglected. So, he devises a plan to get his crush's attention. If Harry likes skateboarding, so, he'll be one.
Harry lands the kickflip in demonstration for the kid, the wheels cracking back onto the concrete and the sharp clap of the tail echoing behind him. A sense of thrill runs through his blood and the wind tugs lightly at his shirt as he rolls back toward Colin, correcting his stance and footwork.
Ron wanders over, gaze narrowing toward the flatbar. “Oi! It’s that poser again.”
“Don’t be a dick, Ron.” Harry exhales, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. “You can’t call people posers just for mall-grabbing. Everyone starts somewhere.”
“No, no, no…” He says, still staring ahead. “It’s the one Oliver nearly fought last week for setting up a photoshoot in the middle of a line.”
Harry follows his stare.
Someone is standing directly across the run-up to the rail with a cameraman crouched low in front of him for the dramatic angles. The board is laid sideways like a barricade, the black deck scraped at the nose and the edges worn soft from use. Even from a distance, Harry recognizes the design. It is exactly the one Sirius made for him.
His best friend squints. “That looks like your skateboard.”
It is. The same silver signature curling near the tail, the one Viktor Krum scrawled there after a tournament.
“It’s my roommate,” Harry says, swallowing nothing.
He pushes off as Ron’s shocked squawk trails behind him, weaving through a pair of skaters lining up for the ledge. The wheels humming over the concrete as he moves towards the scene.
“Tom— Tom,” Harry calls, rolling to a stop. “What are you doing here?”
Tom turns, and his expression softens at the sight of him, delight lighting his face in a way that snuffs out Harry’s anger. “Oh, Harry. I didn’t know I would find you here.”
“Come on, you can’t stand here.” He says, gesturing toward the rail. “You’re blocking the way. People need that run-up.”
Tom glances around with an unconcerned expression, as if the irritated skaters passing around them are merely background noise to his performance. “It’s only a railing. And look — everyone is staring at me. They don’t appear very inconvenienced.”
“They’re staring because you’re running around with your cameraman,” Harry says, exasperation sharpening his voice.
He tilts his head, and a faint frown appears on his unfairly handsome face. “Do you not like me participating in your hobbies?”
Abraxas nudges the camera closer before he can answer, the lens nearly brushing Harry’s cheek. He steps back and reaches for Tom’s wrist. “Let’s go home before someone actually runs into you.”
“Together?” He asks, his face lighting up instantly.
“Yes.”
Tom falls into step beside him at once, shooing Abraxas away without even looking back. Harry glances sideways and notices the clothes covering his lean form. “Those are mine.”
“You never wear the good ones.” He smooths the sleeve, pleased with himself. “How do I look?”
***
The apartment is dim that night, lit only by the bluish glow of the television neither of them is watching. Harry lies sprawled across the sofa, his one arm hanging loose. The faint smell of pavement dust clings to his clothes. His phone vibrates from where it is lying on his chest.
It’s a message from Ron. A link with no explanation like he always shares. Harry taps it open, expecting another random food video the ginger has found. Instead, the screen fills with a shaky shot of him arguing with Tom in the middle of the skate park while people move past them in visible frustration.
The caption reads:
Skate couple’s first argument
“Why are you dead set on embarrassing me! TOMMMM! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!”
The sound on the phone is drowned out by Harry’s scream as he bolts upright and runs after his roommate.
***
