It’s been a busy weekend but I’ve been thinking about Kingsman 2 and Hartwin and things.
Eggsy sees the
metamorphosis as it happens. Harry’s back straightens, his
shoulders draw back, his jaw sets. His gaze grows bright and sharp
with knowledge and his mouth forms Eggsy’s name.
Eggsy’s breath is caught bin a swell of disbelief and joy. Seeing Harry come back to himself feels just like seeing Harry alive for the first time, except now there’s no glass between them, nothing to stop Eggsy from throwing his arms around Harry and pulling him close.
They’ve never actually hugged before, but Eggsy doesn’t hesitate. He needs to hold onto Harry, to feel Harry against him, his whole body, warm and alive and strong enough to survive. Eggsy tucks his head into Harry’s neck and breathes in the scent of Kingsman aftershave and then beneath that, the warm and subtle smell of Harry.
This is also how Harry’s house smelled. Eggsy is hit by a rush of memories: the first time he visited, buzzing with excitement, his breath catching every time Harry looked at him – and then also the long, desperate months after, the painful thrill of surrounding himself with Harry’s things. He had told himself that Tilde would help chase out some of the ghosts, but the bright clean smell of her was never quite enough to overwrite the lingering scent of Harry.
Eggsy closes his eyes and breathes in. The house is gone now, and everything else he and Harry had – but they have each other and it’s hard to care about anything else. Eggsy’s whole body is vibrating with how much he needs this – needs Harry close to him, in his arms, alive. Desperately he turns his head and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Harry’s neck.
He feels Harry shudder against him, hears him breathe out Eggsy’s name again, barely louder than a sigh. Harry’s hand slides up to curl around the back of Eggsy’s neck, warm and heavy, and a shiver rolls down Eggsy’s spine.
Everything that came before this, all the memories and echoes crowding Eggsy’s head – all of that was only ever meant to be the beginning. It had felt like a beginning at the time, Eggsy’s training and the thrill of being with Harry – it was like the moment you leap from a diving board but you haven’t yet begun to fall, a heartbeat-long rush of anticipation.
For so long, the beginning was all Eggsy had. But now, finally, with the two of them pressed close, Eggsy’s lips on Harry’s skin and Harry’s hand sliding up the nape of Eggsy’s neck, their chests moving with each breath, there’s nothing to stop them from falling together.