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It’s Niall who wakes him up. Which is weird, because Niall loves sleeping more than anyone (except, maybe Zayn, because Harry’s never met anyone who sleep as much as Zayn). Usually, it’s Harry who’s up first, because as much as Harry loves to sleep, he likes being awake more. Like having his eyes open and feeling everything around him– and that’s hard to do when he’s sleeping. So he’ll crawl out of bed, scrape together some tea and toast, and then it’s a little while before Niall is stumbling out all bleary-eyed and yawning, kind of like a kitten.
But this morning, it’s Niall, running onto the bed and jumping and Harry is groaning and trying to roll away. Niall is screaming something, hollering loudly and Harry blinks his eyes, glances at the bedside clock that says it’s a half-past seven, and Harry didn’t go to sleep till five, and he drank quite a bit to ring in the new year. This is a very fair way of waking him up, with only two hours of sleep to settle his brain.
“Harry get uuuuup,” Niall wines, flopping down next to Harry on the bed, and Harry squeezes his eyes shut because Niall’s opened the curtain and the sun is over the Irish horizon and demanding to be felt and it’s so bright. “Haaaaaaaz,” Niall continues, shaking the other boys shoulders.
“‘M’leepy,” Harry mumbles, turning onto his stomach and sticking his face in the pillow. “Why awake?” He’s not one for coherence when there’s thick saliva in his mouth and a hangover tingling in the edges of his brain.
“Snow!” Niall yells, reaching out and tickling Harry and that is not fair. Harry is disgustingly ticklish and Niall knows all of his weak spots and before Harry is even fully awake he’s rolling around in bed, squirming to get away from Niall’s unforgiving hands and laughing and crying because it hurts.
“Stop!” he squeals, and he’s on his back and Niall is on his knees to the side, holding Harry down and tickling his sides and saying “Snow, Haz!” over and over again.
“You gonna go play in the snow with me?” Niall giggles as Harry hollers and laughs harder and Harry screams yes because he’ll do anything for Niall to stop.
He does then, smirking mischievously and pulling his hands away, and Harry reaches out almost instinctively. He just wanted Niall to stop tickling him, not to pull away, and Harry likes to feel Niall. Likes the way he’s always kind of chilly, because sometimes Harry feels overheated and flustered, and Niall seems to cool him down.
Niall smiles fondly down at Harry, hands interlocking and eyes shining snow flurry blue. Harry can’t really think of how to describe Niall’s eyes, if he’s honest. There’s a million and one things they look like, but they also look like something completely new and unknown and Harry can't think of how to describe them correctly. Sometimes he just stares at them, because what the hell, Niall, why do his eyes have to be like that? Louis’s eyes are blue, and Harry can very easily say they’re sky blue, like mid morning sky blue. See? That was easy. Why does Niall have to be difficult?
“Get up so we can go play!” Niall cheers, squeezing Harry’s hands before standing up on the bed, and Harry laughs, stretching out his arms.
“Are you sure you’re older?” he asks, and Niall hops over him and lands on the floor gracefully, and Harry pouts because just thinking about trying to do that makes his arse feel sore from where he would definitely bust it.
“Just by a year!” Niall cheers, and he runs out of the room. “Mom’s making toast! Be downstairs in ten!”
!&!
It’s cold, is the thing. Really cold. Mullingar gets that heavy kind of cold, that even when the sun is shining it’s freezing, and Harry shivers in his two jackets and two layers of thermals. LA spoiled him, he’s sure, with warm weather and a sun that doesn’t contradict the temperature.
Niall is already flushing red, the tip of his nose becoming pink and his breath coming out in little white puffs. He’s smiling wide, teeth all straight and white like a pearl necklace, and Harry tries to remember how it looked before the braces, but he can't place it.
He’s still wrapping a scarf around his neck, which is making static crick against his gloves and he pouts as he tries to get the thing to be covering but comfortable. It doesn’t work.
“Let’s go, Hazzah!” Niall cheers, grabbing Harry by the elbow and running to the side of the house. His footprints hit the snow in crunch and leave dents in the blanket. Harry follows after, tripping over is on feet. “We’ve got sleds!”
Harry laughs, but follows, tripping and slipping. “Are you five?” he chuckles, letting Niall pull him around like a rag doll.
“I’m happy,” Niall sighs. He spins around suddenly, kicking up snow and sticking his tongue out even though no flakes are falling. Harry laughs, shoves him lightly and Niall is grinning, lighting up like a Christmas tree and fireworks, eyes blue like diamonds in the ocean. “This is the first New Year’s I’ve been able to enjoy to snow, you know? And you’re here!” He reaches out and he’s grabbing Harry by the shoulders and his smile is so big Harry’s cheeks hurt. Oh, wait, Harry’s grinning too. “I’m just happy, Harry, you know?”
And he does, does know how it’s nice that nothing needs to happen, no pictures to take or smiles to make. It’s so nice, and yeah, he gets that Niall is happy. Because now that Harry thinks about it, he doesn’t remember the last time he played in the snow.
So he smiles and let’s Niall pull him in a hug that's constricted by their jackets and layers, but it’s still nice. Niall leans up, pecks Harry’s cheek, before he’s off running again, screaming about sleds and Harry’s laughing and following after.
!&!
They sled and roll around, and half an hour in and Niall is dying to make a snowman. Harry humors him, rolls little balls of snow along the ground and watches as they get bigger and bigger. When he turns around, Niall is giggling and holding two snowballs to his chest and trying to make it look like he has boobs, and he’s so immature that Harry doubles over laughing, feeling like he’s falling in love with Niall one hundred times in one heartbeat.
“You’re lame!” Harry hollers, because it’s the only thing he can think to say as his "ha’s" come out in white little puffs.
“Am not!” Niall yells, throwing one of the snowballs and hitting Harry’s stomach. And it doesn’t hurt (he has on too many layers for him to even feel it, really) but he doubles over and groans like he’s been shot, mumbling something about telling his mother he loved her, before reaching down and packing a weak snowball in his gloves, throwing it and hitting Niall’s back as he turns to run.
Harry chases after him, tailing him and throwing snowballs at him while Niall ducks between trees, throwing his own ammunition. Harry’s heart is pounding in his chest but he feels light and there’s a smile growing wider with every burst of laughter that escapes from Niall.
For second, he’s chasing after him, just barely catching at Niall’s elbow before he’s sliding on a patch of ice, slamming into Niall’s back and toppling them both over. And it’s laughter and screams as they land in an umph, and Niall’s rolling them around, Harry laughing to hard to fight back and Niall has Harry pinned on his back on the snow, Niall straddling his hips and gripping on the front of his jacket. Harry’s hat has been lost in the midst of their war and the struggles pulled his scarf down his neck, so the back of his head is freezing and there’s snow on his neck. And the longer he lays there laughing, the colder his back gets and it’ll be unbearable soon, and Niall doesn’t have a strong hold on him, so he should just flip them, roll them around until he’s not on the snow anymore.
Except the thing is Niall sparkles. He fucking sparkles when he looks like this and so it’s okay that Harry is cold and getting wet. Because Niall manages to sparkle and he’s giggling and Harry stumbles out, “I miss you too much.”
Niall’s giggles slow, his smile going to something fond and his eyes softening, and it’s not the first time Harry’s said it– that he misses Niall too much when they’re not together like this. That even after on tour together for months on end, Harry misses him when he’s gone. This isn’t the first time he’s said it, but it feels like it always does, like a childish confession. Because he shouldn’t miss Niall as much as he does, not enough to decide to fly out and spend New Year’s with him and his family, impose so he can curl up against Niall in the middle of the night and hold his hands when he says he’s cold. It shouldn’t ache as bad as it does, but thing is, it does, and he tells Niall every time he remembers.
“I miss you too,” Niall whispers, leaning down and nudging their red noses together, closing his eyes and smiling softly.
Harry grins, dimples in his cheeks and he picks his head up, presses his lips to the tip of Niall’s nose. Niall giggles, and that encourages Harry to peck his nose again and again until Niall is squirming and giggling. When Harry finally flicks his tongue out, licks the tip of his nose, Niall laughs harshly, rolling off Harry and landing on his back and laughing.
When Harry looks over, Niall’s eyes are closed and his tongue is stuck out even though nothing is coming down, and his hair is dripping with melted snow, and his whole face is red, and he’s so pale. Harry’s so in love with Niall Horan, that he kind of forgets how to breath.
He rolls over, landing himself on top of him with an “oop” and Niall’s smiling and stretching his arms out into a horizontal line while Harry frames his head with his hands. Everything about them is so placed, so perfect and balanced, and Harry doesn’t want to be away from Niall again, if he can help it.
Niall’s smile is fond and he asks, kind of a whisper that settles like snow in Harry’s hair, “Do you wanna move in with me?”
Harry nods, grinning wide and heart fluttering in his chest. “Yeah,” he whispers, just as lovingly. “Yeah, I’d like that, I think.” And he’s leaning down, bringing his lips to Niall’s gentle and soft and cold, chapped lips rough against each other but so sweet that Harry doesn’t care. He just, doesn’t.