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Niall’s forgotten what city they’re in. He’s forgotten which city they just left behind. He can’t remember what day they left and he doesn’t care what day they’ll go home. For a moment, all he knows is an indigo sky, hot wind whipping through his hair and lapping at his unbuttoned flannel through the open window, and a never-ending stretch of interstate circling thousands of sparkling city lights. And the boy at the wheel, whose vibrant green eyes are gleaming reflectors of the evening skyline.
They don’t speak, but it feels like all of the words they want to say are blustering in the wind, through the open windows and out the sunroof, sprinkling themselves like breadcrumbs along the highways they’ve travelled. And their trusty clunker of a pickup truck seems to have discovered all the secret feelings Niall’s got hidden deep down in his belly, because with every song that comes drifting out the radio, Niall is gripped by a prickly fear that Harry will suddenly realize every confession Niall has yet to make and every love letter he wrote but never sent is being sung out loud to him at this very moment. Their very own popstar peers are climbing their way up the Top 40 by putting music to the lyrics Niall’s heart has been aching to sing to the boy in the driver’s seat for more days than he can count. Traitors.
Almost on cue, Niall feels Harry’s strong, calloused hand curl into his own, reaching over a bottle of lukewarm Mountain Dew and empty bags of Cool Ranch Doritos stuffed into cupholders to caress lazily at Niall’s fingers. Niall’s eyes find Harry’s quickly, and the surprise must show in his face because Harry laughs, a gentle, apologetic laugh telling Niall that he didn’t mean to scare him. With one hand on the wheel and the other folding itself gently around Niall’s, Harry slumps back against the headrest and fixes his eyes on the road, still smiling softly as his lips move in silence to words Niall longs to hear him say aloud, when it’s just the two of them and no one else and he means it in a way that none of the other boys do, in a way that’s private and unbreakable and forever.
“Look.”
It’s the first time either of them have spoken in hours, and Harry’s voice is low and hoarse from the sticky humidity and relentless wind, but it’s just enough to rouse Niall from his thoughts and make him follow Harry’s gaze straight through the grimy windshield. His lips part in awe at the cityscape, suddenly backlit by a brilliant orange glow against deep purple as the last rays of sun dip below the horizon. Maybe Harry hears the hitch of Niall’s breath, or maybe he feels the way Niall is suddenly full of warmth and wonder at all the light and color, because he sighs, sleepy and content, “How do you like that?”
“I… Wow,” is all Niall can say, and when Harry pulls his hand away to run it through his wind-swept hair, Niall wraps himself tight in the open flaps of his flannel, the wind feeling suddenly cooler.
“Yeah?” Harry hums, lips dancing on the edge of a smile.
There’s an excited little shiver in Niall’s voice when he echoes breathlessly, “Yeah.”
“I got it just for you.”
Niall’s so entranced by the sight before them that it takes a moment for him to process the words, but when he finally does he huffs out a genuine laugh. Some of the tension in his shoulders melts away as all lovesick anxiety drifts temporarily to the back of his mind, replaced by the goofy smile Harry’s flashing at him and a warm, familiar feeling of easy camaraderie. They’re friends, after all. Best friends. And Niall’s feelings don’t change that, he reminds himself — at least, not until he shares them with Harry. God knows when that will be, but for the time being, he’s going to stay right here in the moment and bask in that familiar warmth, thank you very much. Not going to go diving headfirst into the frigid unknown. At least, not yet. Not yet.
“You shouldn’t have,” he swoons jokingly, and Harry takes a swat at his lap but is successfully slapped away by Niall at the last second and scolded to keep his eyes on the goddamn road. Harry rolls his eyes, muttering something about ‘not even going that fast’ as he takes the next exit, dropping speed as they drift off the highway and onto the streets a quaint, brightly lit neighborhood bustling with friendly nightlife. Old fashioned storefronts and colorful little houses perched on a hilltop with a postcard-perfect view of the city.
It’s a game of ‘I spy’ all the way to the motel, drawing each other’s eyes to quirky little things about another exciting new place, an ice cream parlor that reminds Niall of the one back home and a cigar shop where Harry’s insisting ‘we’re going to buy cigars because the last time we got drunk you promised me we’d have a smoke before we die!’
And sure as the sun sets in the west, they fall back into their seemingly unbreakable balance, a back-and-forth that’s playful and teasing but brimming with unadulterated affection, and it makes Niall wonder what in the world he’s so afraid of.
They’ve argued before, fought over silly little things only to hash it out, then hug it out, then learn and grow from it and respect each other all the more. They’ve pissed each other off more times than Niall can count, pride postponing apologies until the emotional distance became too much to bear, then forgiven each other without a moment’s hesitation and hugged so hard Niall thought they might never let each other go. They’ve laughed themselves to the brink of suffocation, drunk themselves silly, laid side by side in the dark and talked all night long about their dreams and fears and loves. Niall’s cried in his arms, and Harry in Niall’s. In many ways, it feels to Niall like he and Harry have experienced more in the last five years than most people — most couples, even — experience in a lifetime.
It makes him wonder why… if he knows down to his very core just how strong, how inextricably connected, how resilient Harry and Niall are… why he doesn’t just tell Harry the truth. Why the very thought makes his palms sweaty and his stomach flip and his heart race, and suddenly Niall’s lips are moving before his brain has come up with any kind of plan whatsoever…
“Harry-”
“Niall-”
There’s an awkward jumble of uncertain noises between them, then a flurry of nervous chuckles from Harry while Niall’s scratching the back of his neck and flushing hard, genuinely concerned for a brief moment that he is going to be sick. And he doesn’t know why, but all of a sudden, he knows that he’s going to do this. He’s doing it right now, because he physically cannot hold it in any longer. Whatever this feeling is, whether it’s a silly infatuation or a recipe for razing this friendship to the ground or true goddamn love, it’s pulsing through his body at the speed of light, fighting to be released in any way possible.
Harry’s just pulling them into the motel parking lot and turning off the ignition when Niall takes a deep breath.
“I have something to-”
“There’s just something I need to-”
Niall sighs and shuts his eyes a moment, his breath quick and fretful as Harry murmurs an apology, turning back to face the wheel and looking frustrated, but not at Niall. Niall knows what that looks like, and Harry’s definitely not frustrated at him. Niall watches him as he hangs his head a moment, brow smoothing over as he takes a breath.
“You first,” Harry says, sudden, but soft. Not a command. An offer.
He turns back toward Niall, his kind but slightly nervous-looking expression dimly lit by the porch lights of the motel corridor, and Niall’s never felt more vulnerable in his life. He has nowhere to hide. Not anymore. He’s standing on the edge of what will live forever in his memory as either the gut-wrenching demise of the most perfect friendship he’s ever had, or… or.
“You… you sure?” Niall asks, mercifully offering Harry one last chance to back out of this moment, to pretend it never happened and go back to the way things were, to avoid risking tears and heartache and a beautiful friendship dissolved into emptiness, all for the shot in the dark that this might, this might, be more than a beautiful friendship. For the faintest glimmer of a chance that this might be forever.
Harry nods, exhales, looks Niall straight in the eye, like he’s afraid to know, but has to. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m sure.”
Niall takes one last steadying breath. “Okay,” he says, and he surprises himself when he feels a little smile tug at his lips, in spite of everything. He’s got everything in the world to gain, and everything in the world to lose, he feels crazy, and he thinks Harry must be crazy too for letting him go through with this, but hey — at least he can say he gave Harry a chance. He owed him that much.
He loves him, after all.