Breakfast
Good Morning
Norman came back for him the next day.
“Good morning, son.”
“Morning… Dad.” Harry held himself back from saying something stupid.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
Harry shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I would have preferred to sleep in my own bed.”
Norman's broad smile surprised Harry. “That can be arranged,” he said, “I brought all your furnishings with when I moved out of the old house. I can't say it's all exactly as you left it, but…”
All the hate and cruelty from the previous day was replaced with a gentle fondness that Harry hadn't expected. Norman was being genuine and tender.
“… I hope it still feels like home.” Norman had continued to talk while Harry stared in awe. Norman stepped closer and reached out to touch Harry, to grasp his shoulder. “Tony expressed disgust when he saw it. When I foolishly invited him into my home, as a guest, and he wandered into rooms where he wasn't welcome. He called it a creepy shrine.”
Harry's cheeks flushed with anger. Anger directed at Tony. Harry was struggling to reconcile the loving father Tony was with the callous actions he had been hiding this whole time. How could he be so loving to Harry while utterly loathing and actively hateful towards Norman?
“It's not a shrine,” Norman said. “Although, I'll admit, until last week its purpose was mostly symbolic. Harry, I hope you understand what it means to me. I've always kept space for you in my home, even when I was almost entirely convinced that you were dead.”
Norman's hand lingered on his son's shoulder. Norman was reluctant to let go and hesitating to make more physical contact. But Harry didn't hesitate when he realized what he wanted, and he wanted to be held by his father.
Harry initiated the hug and Norman squeezed him tight. “I've missed you,” Norman said. “So, so much.” Harry began softly crying, but it wasn't fear or pain or anger. He was struggling to process how happy this made him. He was loved and wanted. Tony had lied to him. Harry's father had never rejected him. “I love you,” Norman said, “I've always loved you.”
“I–I love you, too,” Harry said and he was surprised that the words didn't feel forced. He wasn't just trying to appease his captor. He had never stopped loving Norman. He'd never stopped thinking of Norman as his father. “I'm sorry it took so long,” Harry said, his pity and regret resurfacing. Reminded of all the guilt he felt for prolonging Norman's suffering. “I was too afraid of what would happen if I—”
Harry cut himself off from saying anymore, because he realized that all his fear had been justified, just not in the way he expected. He disentangled himself from Norman's arms, surprised at how easy it was. Norman let him take a step back.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” Norman said.
“Don't I?” Harry laughed, a horribly unpleasant sound, because he wasn't reassured at all. “What about everything you said last night? You threatened to kill me.”
Norman's warm smile was replaced by stone. “I never said I would kill you.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “The threat was implied. Don't pretend it wasn't.”
Norman didn't deny it. Instead he said, “I don't want to hurt you.”
“No. You just want your son back, and I'm not the son you remember. It's been a decade. I've grown up, and that upsets you, but I can't turn back the clock. I can't be that little boy anymore.”
Norman turned away from Harry. His fingers flexed and curled several times while he held his hands at his sides. Norman obviously wanted to hit something, but he was exercising self restraint.
“Let's table this discussion. You must be hungry.”
“I could eat.”
Breakfast
They ate breakfast together. Norman insisted that Harry fill his plate, while he himself ate considerably less.
Norman had coffee and a half eaten donut. Most of the old man's attention was on a tablet. Scrolling and making notes.
Norman and Tony probably had more in common than either one of them would like to admit. Harry was tempted to say something to that effect, but decided he'd much rather enjoy that Norman wasn't forcing more uncomfortable conversation. But the quiet couldn't last forever.
“What were your plans for the day?” Norman asked, without even looking up from the tablet.
“I… um,” Harry wasn't sure what to say. If he should be honest or not. At first he couldn't even figure out why Norman was asking.
Norman lifted his eyes to meet Harry's. The only way Harry could think to describe Norman's expression was one of stern fatherly disapproval. He was unimpressed with Harry's non-answer, which was funny considering the circumstances. Harry couldn't even remember what day of the week it was, and he decided to admit as much.
“My brain feels like it's been put through a blender,” he said. “I couldn't tell you if today is Wednesday or Saturday. If I had plans, I think it's fair to say they've been cancelled.”
“It's Sunday.” Norman closed the tablet and pushed it away. “I want to know how long it'll be before people start looking for you.”
“Oh,” Harry said, “did you overlook the fact that my father is—”
“Sitting across the table from you.”
Harry shook his head. “You know I wasn't talking about you.”
“If you're going to talk about Tony, I want you to use his name or refer to his actual relationship to you. He's your kidnapper, not your father.”
“From where I'm sitting, those words are starting to feel like synonyms.”
Harry didn't expect Norman to appreciate receiving sass, but his father surprised him by smiling.
“What?” Harry asked, certain that he was missing something. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like… you're happy.”
Norman reached across the table. Harry withdrew his hands, putting them in his lap. Norman's hand stayed outstretched.
“Harry, I am overjoyed . I haven't been this happy in over ten years.”
Tony had spent ten years telling Harry that he'd been a burden to Norman. That Norman was glad that he was gone. How could Tony be so blind to the truth? How could Tony – the smartest man in any room he stepped into – how could Tony be so wrong?
Norman waited around thirty seconds before finally taking his hand back. Then he stood and stepped away from the table.
“Where are you going?” Harry asked.
“I'll be right back,” Norman said. “Ten, twenty minutes at most. I just need to make a couple phone calls, and then we can spend the rest of the day together.”
The rest of the day. Huh. Harry couldn't say he was looking forward to a whole day with Norman, but it meant something— something special. Norman was willing to rearrange his whole schedule to make time for Harry. Even Tony struggled to do that, and it would have been almost unthinkable for the younger version of Norman in Harry's memories.