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Just another typical lads’ night in. It began with Harry leaning back against Niall, who himself lay sprawled out on the couch. Over the course of the next hour, Harry had managed to stealthily turn inch by careful inch until he was face first against Niall's chest, laying in the vee of his legs. Every now and then Niall would cheer on one of the lads as they scored in FIFA, his solid chest expanding against Harry's before sinking back down into softness.
Harry smiled, nuzzling into Niall's stomach. The Irish boy would never know how much Harry loved his softness here. Niall hated his own little pouchy tummy, grumbling about rationed Nando’s and Guinness whenever their trainers brought up gym time. But it was one of Harry's favorite places on his boyfriend, soft and warm and hidden. Just like all the best parts of Niall.
Harry slowly dragged his hand up from his side, running his index finger along the seam of Niall's jeans. When he got to the overlap of Niall's t-shirt, he paused, wiggling his fingers slightly until the material rucked up. Then he continued his slow inching up the naked skin of Niall's tummy.
Niall twitched and Harry stilled. After long moments of wary anticipation, Niall settled back down and Harry resumed his trek up Niall's stomach to his chest. Niall's arm made to move toward Harry's, but Harry tangled his fingers in the chest hair he’d just reached. After Harry took a minute to scratch through the hairs, Niall cautiously let his hand stay.
Not to be driven from his goal, minutes later, Harry was back on his quest. He skittered his fingers to the side and nicked a nipple with his nail. Niall shot up so fast that Harry nearly toppled out of his lap. As Harry righted himself, Niall rearranged his body upright to sit facing the TV, dislodging Harry from his lap. Harry frowned a bit, but moved to snuggle closer into Niall's side. With hesitation, Niall lifted his arm to allow Harry under it, and then wrapped it around Harry's shoulder.
Slightly sulky, Harry sat tensely for close to 10 minutes before he made any effort to try again. He placed his hand on Niall's thigh and waited. When Niall didn’t react, he began drawing his hand up the inside of Niall's thigh. Sure enough, just a few inches away from his crotch, Niall tensed up. Another inch or two and Niall shot up off of the couch.
“Think I’m gonna get me another beer,” he said just a touch too loudly. “Anyone else want one?”
Harry looked petulantly at the still half-full beer on the end table near where Niall's head had lain. The other three lads shook their heads and Harry watched Niall rapidly disappear into the kitchenette area. Harry sat back, pulling his legs up and hugging them protectively as he tried to quash the painful hurt blooming in his heart.
When Niall returned from the kitchen, rather than coming back to Harry, he leaned against the wall watching the game. He held the beer bottle in one hand and stuffed the other one deep in his pocket. Not once did his eyes wander over to Harry. Usually, Niall couldn’t keep his eyes off of Harry. That he’d deliberately avoid meeting Harry's gaze hurt more than Harry could say, and caused hot tears to sting Harry’s eyes.
Eventually, Niall did move. And Harry's heart gave a tiny jolt of hope. But when Niall went from the wall to the the sofa…that Liam, Zayn and Louis were sitting on, that hope fell away. Harry watched, almost numbly, as first Niall only perched on the arm. When, half a bottle in, Niall dropped down beside Liam and scooted back making himself comfortable as he cheered the boys on, Harry was done.
He loved Niall. More than he could express in mere words. But he wasn’t going to be treated like this. If Niall didn’t want more than just a cuddle buddy and hand-holder, Harry was fine with that. To each their own. He certainly wasn’t going to force himself on anyone, in any way. But he also knew that he wanted more. And where he wouldn’t force another person out of their comfort zone, he also wasn’t willing to deny himself what he wanted, what he needed.
He blinked back his tears and pushed himself to his feet. He had to wonder if Niall had been keeping an eye on him after all with the speed that the other boy whipped his head around, tracking Harry's movement. Too little, too late. Harry forced himself to make his way around the back of the couch.
“I’m headed to bed, lads,” he said to the room in general. The other three, they called out their typical goodnights. Niall, however, frowned.
“You should’ve said you were tired, Haz. Hang on and I’ll come with.” He drained the last of the bottle and pushed off of the couch.
Harry gave a small flinch, then bucked up his courage. “No,” he said quietly. Quiet or not, it halted the room. The game went on pause and every eye turned toward him.
Niall gave a confused chuckle. “It’s okay, love, I’m kinda tired, too.”
Harry couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. “It’s not okay, actually,” he forced out. “I’m going to bed alone. I don’t want you to come with me.”
“What?” was all Niall could manage. The other three boys exchanged worried glances.
Harry took a deep breath and braced himself, then turned around to meet Niall's bewildered gaze. “I don’t want you to come to bed with me. I think you’ve made it quite clear how you feel, and I’m sorry it took me so long to get it. I do apologize for that, and for presuming. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
Harry moved to the door, feeling like weights were wrapped around his ankles. There, he paused again, turning to face the lads but pointedly not looking at Niall. “Zayn, would you come with for a minute? I need your help with something.”
Zayn stood up, warily looking between the sad Harry and the baffled Niall. “Sure, Hazza.”
Zayn followed Harry out, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Once they were stood in front of Harry and Niall's room, Harry pulled his keycard out and swiped it. He hesitated a moment before stepping inside. Zayn was right on his heels, a hand on Harry's back trying to offer support.
Harry's bags were neatly set against the wall. Only a few things Zayn could recognize as Harry’s were laying out, and nothing on the bed itself. Niall's side of the room, however, looked like something exploded in it. He had clothes and toiletries dumped out all over the second bed, and his bags lay opened on the floor around it.
Harry looked sadly at the mess and sighed. “Zayn, I know you got the single this time. I hate to bother you with it, but would you be willing to swap out? Either trade rooms with me, or move Niall into the single and you move in with me tonight?”
Zayn felt his heart drop about where his stomach had gone to. “Er, yeah. If that’s what you want,” he said. “But um…Why do you want that?”
Harry didn’t say anything, just swallowed loudly. He walked past Niall's mess to his bed and collapsed on the floor in front of it. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling over his cheeks and his shoulders began shaking silently.
Zayn was at his side in seconds, throwing himself to the floor beside Harry. “What’s wrong, Harreh?” he asked, pulling Harry in close.
Harry rested his head on Zayn’s chest and threaded his arms through Zayn’s to squeeze around his waist. “He’s disgusted by me, Zaynie,” Harry whispered, suddenly feeling ashamed. Helpless. Lost.
“Wha?” Zayn pulled back a bit to frown in confusion at Harry's sad expression. “No, he’s not. He loves you!”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, he loves me,” Harry agreed. “But the thought of sexual intimacy with me revolts him.” Zayn opened his mouth to refute it, but Harry shook his head and rushed on. “He never lets me touch him like that. He doesn’t kiss me with an open mouth. He doesn’t say intimate or sexual things to me. It’s like, he loves me, my mind, who I am…but my body turns him off.”
He shrugged, trying to make himself smaller. “I…I don’t know for sure, but I’m thinking it’s a pretty good chance that he thinks I’m… tainted now. From the…the rape.” Zayn flinched and started shaking his head. Harry continued, “I love him, so much. But I can’t be with someone that thinks I’m dirty and broken. I just can’t.”
He lifted watery, sad eyes to Zayn’s. “I promise, Zaynie, I promise it won’t fuck up the band. I’ll be 100% on board with it. It’ll just be like when Louis told me to leave him alone.” Zayn flinched again. “We won’t touch, we won’t room together, we won’t be alone together. And…eventually, maybe I’ll stop loving him. Stop hurting.” The look on his face told Zayn that probably wasn’t going to ever happen.
“I just…I can’t spend tonight in the same bed with him.” Harry's voice dropped to a weak whisper. “And I know that he will refuse to sleep in the other bed if he rooms in here.”
“Oh, Harreh,” Zayn pulled Harry's head back onto his shoulder and just held him as the younger boy fell apart. He stroked Harry's curls and stared across the room in frustration of the two boys he loved so dearly.
Eventually, Harry's sobs lessened and finally stopped, and Harry lay limply on Zayn’s chest. Slowly, he sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m…I…I shouldn’t have dropped that in your lap.”
“No, Harreh, I’m glad you can come to me. You can, you know. Always. I’m always here for you.”
Harry smiled weakly. “Thank you, Zaynie.” He yawned. “I’m sorry. I think I cried myself out. I’m exhausted. Are you still willing to trade rooms?”
Zayn nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll stay here with you. I’ll take Niall's bags out to him and switch keys. He can let me in to get my stuff before he goes to bed.”
“Thank you, Zaynie,” Harry murmured, climbing to his feet and surveying the disaster in front of him. Finally, he just shrugged and started gathering up Niall's clothes. Zayn watched quietly from Harry's bed as Harry expertly refolded the clothes and played Tetris getting them, Niall's shoes, toiletries and other random items that they collected on the American tour stuffed into the bag. When Harry had them all in order and stacked next to the door, he just paused and stared sadly at them.
“You sure, Harreh?” Zayn asked softly.
Harry nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes again. “I can’t be with someone who’s disgusted by me, Zayn. It’s not fair to either one of us.”
Zayn sighed and gave Harry a final hug before lugging the bags into the hallway. As he closed the door, he glanced back to see Harry stripping his outer clothes off and crawling into the bed he’d claimed. He was sad to see Harry gravitated to the left side. After weeks of watching Niall and Harry snuggling together, he knew that was his side. He didn’t know if Harry did it to be near Niall one last time, or if he was reclaiming his space. Frankly, he didn’t care. Something needed to be done about this shite.
Zayn lugged the bags back to the room and let himself in. He tossed the bags in an untidy pile to the side of the door and before he looked up, he shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t smack anyone.
All three lads were sat on the couch frowning, the game on pause. Liam looked worried. Liam always looked slightly worried. Louis looked pissed off. Again, Louis always had that air about him, and when it came to a hurt Harry—well, that just upped the ante. Niall, however, looked both worried—and what self-respecting boyfriend wouldn’t? But he also looked pissed off, which made sense as Zayn had just come from his boyfriend’s bedroom. A bedroom Niall, himself, had been banned from.
Niall looked at the bags in Zayn’s hands and paled. He stood up, squaring his shoulders. “What’s this then, Zayn?”
Zayn just sighed. “He asked me to room with him tonight. I brought you your stuff. We’ll need to swap room keys and you’ll need to let me get my bags out of the other room before you go to bed.”
“What the fuck?” Niall clenched his fists. “No! What did you say to him? What did he say to you?” Niall shook his head fiercely and jutted his jaw. “No way in hell are you sleeping with my Harry tonight.”
Zayn slumped. “I didn’t say anything. This is all him. He’s pretty set on it. I’m sorry, Niall. He told me…he told me he doesn’t think he can be with you anymore.”
Niall visibly flinched like Zayn had slapped him. “What?” he whispered.
Zayn shrugged. “He says he’ll try not to fuck up the band. That he’ll play it like he did when Louis…when Louis told him to back off.”
Louis paled, then flushed red and jumped to his feet. “What the fuck did you do, Horan?” he demanded angrily.
“I don’t know!” Niall yelled back. He turned back to Zayn. “Are you fucking telling me, Malik, that Harry just broke up with me…through you?”
Zayn shrugged helplessly again. “That’s what it looked like,” he said.
“Why?” asked Liam, quietly.
Zayn winced, eyeing Niall and Louis warily. “He says…he says he can’t be with someone who, even though they love him, thinks he’s…” Zayn hesitated, concerned about further throwing Niall under the bus Louis was surely going to drive over him.
“Thinks he’s what? Fucking tell me what!” Niall demanded, stepping around the back of the couch to confront Zayn head on. Louis followed and Zayn knew this was going to get ugly.
“Who thinks he’s tainted, dirty…broken,” he nearly whispered.
Niall just stared in horrified confusion.
Louis didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Niall by his shirt front and slammed him up against the back of the couch. He shoved his face up against Niall's and snarled, “I warned you, Horan. I warned you not to fuck him up.”
Niall fed his arms up between their chests and broke free of Louis’ hold. He shoved Louis back, and clenched his fists again. “I have never said that! Anything like that!” he growled. “Harry is not dirty and…and broken. Or tainted!” His face wrinkled in revulsion at that word. “He’s fucking perfect in every way. I don’t know why he’d ever believe I thought that!”
“He says you’re revolted by the idea of intimacy with him.” Zayn raised his voice to cut through, and moved forward to head Louis off again. “He says you won’t let him touch you…sexually. He thinks you run from him…from the idea of sex with him.”
Niall's eyes widened in horror. “What? No! Harry's hot as fuck. When we do have sex one day, I’ll be 100% on board!”
“You haven’t had sex yet?” Louis asked incredulously, his forward momentum halted.
“What? Of course not!” Niall huffed, rolling his eyes. “He was fucking raped less than three months ago, Tommo! No, I haven’t shoved my cock in his arse!” He glared intensely at the angry man.
“Intimacy doesn’t have to be penetrative sex,” Liam offered, finally coming off of the couch. “Do you touch him at all?”
“Fucking hell, lads!” Niall threw his hands in the air. “You see us. We’re touching all the fucking time!”
“Touching, yes,” Liam agreed calmly, “but are you touching him any way that’s different than how me or Zayn, or even Louis touches him?”
“No!” Niall shook his head. “He’s not ready for that.”
“How the fuck do you know that?” Louis sneered. “Are you in his brain? Have you agonized through it all in his place?”
Niall glared at him. “Of course not. It’s just…it’s just too soon, isn’t it?” He looked pleadingly at Liam.
Liam and Zayn shook their heads and Louis snorted in disgust.
“Niall,” Liam said softly,” there’s no right time. There’s no time limit. A rape survivor could want sex the next day, or never again in their life. It’s about taking control of their body back.” Liam flushes when three sets of eyes turn on him. “I…I read about it when…I just…I wanted to be able to help him if he needed it.”
Zayn patted him on the shoulder and nodded supportively. Of course, Liam would do that. Liam gave him a small smile and continued. “Harry is the only one who can get past what happened to him. We can support him. We can offer him the world. But, he’s the only one who can do it. And he will do it in his way. He will decide when he’s ready.” Liam waved his hands weakly, “And if he’s decided that time is now, and the person he wants to have help him through it refuses to let him touch them…that’s going to cause him to self-doubt.”
“But…but I don’t want to hurt him,” Niall said, his own pain evident in his voice.
“Niall, you’re already hurting him,” Zayn says quietly. “It’s his body. Let him decide what to do with it and when to do it.” He hesitated briefly, then continued. “Telling him he doesn’t have the right to make those kinds of decisions with his own body…isn’t that kind of what they did to him in the first place?”
Niall lost all the color in his face and looked enough like he was going to throw up, that Liam raced to get the trash can to hold out to him. Niall waves him off absently. “Okay,” he says, forcing himself calm. “Okay, I can see we need to talk this through. We both have some…really fucked up misunderstandings going on.”
He straightened himself up again and frowned at Zayn. “I’m sorry, though, mate. There’s no way I’m letting you sleep with my boyfriend tonight.”
Zayn gave a half smile. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. That’s why I came here with your stuff instead of taking it to my room.”
Niall gave him a wry grin. “It’s always the quiet ones.” Zayn shrugged, a pleased smile on his face. “Okay, I’m gonna go, now. We’ll see you tomorrow. Hopefully, we’ll have this all worked out.”
Louis glared across the room at him. “If you fucking hurt him again, Horan, I will beat you down. I don’t care what it does to our friendship or the band.” Niall looked impassively at him, then just nodded and picked up his bags, heading out the door.
He took a deep breath before sliding his card in and opening the door. It took a few, brief seconds to bang inside with his bags—which he promptly dumped in the same spot he’d dumped them in hours before hand. He kept his eyes on Harry's body, curled up in a burrito in the blankets. Because of that, he watched Harry tense up as he realized Niall wasn’t Zayn. Zayn had never been so loud or clumsy in his life. He shut the door.
“Harry, we need to talk,” he said softly. Harry just lay stiff and soundless. “Hazza,” he sighed. “I know you’re not asleep. Please turn over and talk to me.”
Harry sighed in return and rolled onto his back, pointedly staring at the ceiling. “Why are you here, Niall? I told Zayn everything I needed you to know. I’m tired. Please leave and let me sleep.”
Niall stepped up next to the bed and deliberately sat next to Harry, feeling the warmth of his body even through the blanket. He watched Harry's fingers clench on the comforter and Harry's mouth tighten, causing tiny lines to appear around his mouth. Niall wanted to go back to the other room and let Louis punch him in the mouth for doing this to the gentle soul.
“Harry, we have some miscommunication going on, I think,” he continued gently.
“No, no I’m pretty sure I finally got what you were trying to say,” Harry smiled humorlessly. “It did take me a while, so I apologize for making you uncomfortable.”
Niall shook his head and began toying with the edge of the comforter. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Haz. And I wasn’t trying to say whatever you seem to have gotten out of it.”
Harry stayed silent, staring upwards.
“Harry, you were raped. That’s…that’s…” Niall ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
“That’s disgusting, I know,” Harry finally supplied for him, his voice absent of emotion.
“No!” Niall snapped. “That’s not disgusting. Or well, okay, rape is disgusting, but you’re not disgusting for it happening to you. And from what Zayn says, that’s how I’ve been making you feel, and that disgusts me.”
“Okay, so there’s disgust. Got it.” Harry turned his face away and Niall leaned over his to pull it back. When their eyes met, there was so much pain in Harry's that Niall felt his heart squeeze tightly.
“No, love. There’s no disgust,” Niall said softly. “There’s me, not understanding how you’re processing what happened to you. There’s me making arbitrary decisions about whether you were ready for sex. There’s me running our whole relationship without asking for your input or what you’re okay with doing. And there’s you, suffering in silence until you couldn’t anymore.”
Harry frowned. “You’re not making decisions for us, or running our relationship.”
Niall smiled sadly. “Oh, love, I am. I thought you needed more time to be ready for sex. I thought you were worried that you weren’t giving me what I wanted, and you were pushing to have sex to keep us together. So, I tried to do ‘the right thing’ and brush you off.”
Harry’s frown deepened. “Niall, I would never do that. I love you more than anything, but I’m not going to hurt myself for anyone, even you.”
Niall gave a wry laugh. “Yeah, I should have figured that out. I know you well enough that I’m pretty embarrassed that it took Zayn and Liam to remind me that I should already have known that.”
“So…that’s why you won’t let me touch you? Or kiss you? Or you won’t touch me? Because you think I should be more traumatized by being raped?”
Niall flushed. “Okay, I sound like a right fucking idiot when you put it that way. But, yes. Essentially, that’s it in a nutshell.” Harry sat up and stared in concern down at Niall's pained face.
“Niall…what he did to me…that wasn’t about sex. It was about power. He was trying to reclaim his power over his girlfriend by taking away my power because she liked me. He never kissed me. He never touched my cock. Hell, he never even touched my arse with anything other than his dick. I…I’m sorry if I’m not…handling it right?”
“No, love. You’re handling it perfectly. You’re handling it in the way that’s just right for you, and I had no right to try to shove my totally uninformed opinions on you.”
“I’m not afraid of sex, Niall,” Harry said softly. “I’m not afraid of you. I may have developed a slight phobia of cherry Chapstick and ski masks,” he smiled wryly, “but I’m really trying to fix me. So that I can be good for you.”
“Oh, love," Niall pulled Harry closer and dropped a gentle kiss on his lips. “You already are good for me. You always have been. And you’re not broken. You don’t need to be fixed. I need to remember that I trust you, in everything. And if I trust you with my heart, the least I can do is trust you with yourself.
“If you’re ready for sex, I’m certainly not going to deny you. Deny us. We’ll take it as slow or as fast as you want it. Hell, I may even have more hang-ups than you. You’re the first, the only guy who’s ever interested me. I sure as fuck don’t know what I’m doing. I just know I love you, and I want to be close to you, and I don’t want to ever hurt you. And here I’ve been hurting you without even realizing it. I’m so sorry, pet.”
Harry reached up and cupped Niall's cheek, the sadness gone from his eyes and a sweet smile on his face. “I love you, Niall Horan,” he whispered. “And I would like to show you that, physically. We don’t have to rush into penetrative sex for that. We just have to be open to each other’s needs.”
“I love you, too, Harry Styles,” Niall whispered back with a smile. “And I promise you, I will do my best to talk about things, rather than assuming.”
“Thank you, love.” Niall's heart unclenched and warmth began to move through him again at the love and affection practically glowing on Harry's face. “So, now that we have that off our chest, I’m ashamed to say I’m honestly too tired for sex anyway,” Harry blushed.
“Yeah? Well, get over here and cuddle with me then, you sexy beast. Maybe you’ll be feeling more up to it tomorrow morning.” Niall grinned as he tugged Harry closer to him and they settled down. Together.