“Harry” You start “what if they think I’m… I don’t know. Too young. Or annoying. Or—”?” You said quietly, white teeth chewing on your pink lip. I look up at you from where I’m tying my shoes, immediately clocking the tension in your voice. I straighten up, walk over to you, hands on your hips and turn you to look at me.

“Hey,” I murmur, tilting your chin up so you have to look at me. “What’s all this about? Hm?”

You sigh in response “All your friends are older, they’ve lived more. They’re cool and established and I’m just…me”

My brows knit together, almost offended at your words “Just you?” I repeat softly “That’s my favorite person in the world you're talking about.”

I hear you let out a nervous laugh before saying anything “You’re biased”

I agree with you immediately. “Biased? Oh of course I am, honey. Extremely. Hopelessly. Madly.” I press my forehead to yours, thumbs brushing slow, grounding circles at your waist. “Listen to me, they’re going to love you. And if for some reason they don’t, well that’s their fucking fault” I laugh in between words “I didn’t choose you because you fit some age bracket or checklist. I chose you because you’re you.”

I see you hesitate before speaking “What if I say something dumb?”

I smile, the soft crinkly one that makes your chest ache, the one that shows my dimples even through my stubble. “Then I’ll squeeze your hand under the table, and look at you like you’ve hung the moon. Same as always.”