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“I love you,” is what Harry gushes out joyously, tossing away the crumpled wrapping paper when his eyes are met with a set of vinyls, limited edition and worth more than words can explain.
It was simple—he probably could have bought it on his own without a second thought—but it meant so much more knowing that it had come from someone else, that someone had been thinking of him and had known he would enjoy these Rolling Stones classics.
Granted, it isn’t too hard to buy gifts for him—he’s easy to please—but still. It feels nice.
He springs up from his spot on the floor and bounds over to Niall, engulfing him in a tight embrace and smiling into his shoulder as the blond laughs happily.
“Thank you, Ni,” he whispers, pulling away just in time to see his bashful grin. “This is amazing.”
They spend the rest of the evening singing poorly along to the entirety of Let It Bleed and Sticky Fingers.
-
I love you, is what Harry thinks halfway through a show as he’s serenading a certain blond with their own lyrics, almost forgetting the song completely when he finds himself gazing into sparkling blue eyes.
He reaches over to Niall as he finishes his solo on autopilot, stretching out his arm to brush their fingers together as their voices blend beautifully, and he returns Niall’s grin with a cheeky one of his own.
“But you’re perfect to me,” he sings, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, his heart swelling dangerously at the blond’s soft chuckle.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry mumbles half-awake with his head in Niall’s lap, the two of them occupying a small couch while the other three boys were sprawled out on the floor.
It was a free day, something very rare yet infinitely appreciated, and they spent it bingeing Marvel's extensive repertoire. Now in the middle of Iron Man 2, Harry thinks, as much as he likes Tony Stark and his wonderful sense of humour, he’s really having trouble not giving into the blissful prospect of sleep.
He isn’t even aware the words slipped from his mouth, but the small smile and light blush he receives is enough of an indication.
“Close your eyes, Haz,” Niall tells him quietly, and he does just that, easily falling asleep to the fingers running through his hair. He doesn’t overlook the kiss pressed to his forehead.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry admits drunkenly, slinging a heavy arm over Niall’s shoulders.
Or, he tries to, but ends up overshooting it and smacking roughly into the older boy. He can’t control the airy giggles that bubble up and out of his throat at his exasperated expression.
“You’re absolutely smashed, mate,” Niall laughs, steadying Harry’s swaying form with an arm around his waist, and Harry blinks sluggishly as he sets down his glass half-full—half-empty?—to pull out his phone.
Harry pokes curiously at the few moles scattered on Niall’s neck, making the other snicker before shooing him away as he speaks hurriedly to whoever’s on the other line. The tiny man inside the phone. Harry laughs.
“Alright, H. Let’s get you home.”
Niall’s walking him to one of the bar’s concealed exits, supporting most of Harry’s weight as he leans fully into the blond and stumbles over his two left feet.
“I do love you,” Harry reminds him once he’s buckled into a plush leather seat, leaving a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek to prove his point.
“Okay, Harry,” Niall smiles at him, bumping their shoulders together before looking down at his phone as they head back to tonight’s hotel. “Love ya too.”
-
“I love you,” is what Harry forces out of his mouth, watching closely as Niall stops in his tracks and slowly turns around.
“What?” Niall asks incredulously, as if he can’t believe it, as if Harry wasn’t obvious enough with his constant staring and incessant flirting. Harry isn’t really sure if he wants to laugh or cry.
“I love you,” he repeats wearily, digging his nails into his palm when Niall’s intense eyes bore into him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how or why or when, and I know that it’s wrong and I’d completely understand if you don’t want to talk to me, I mean, I wouldn’t either, and I’m sorry for overstepping—”
“Harry,” he breathes, and Harry's gone enough for him to stop rambling at the merest whisper that comes from his lips. “Just shut up.”
Harry looks down to hide his watery eyes, blinking profusely to keep his tears at bay. He doesn’t realise that Niall is still here until there’s a warm hand on his cheek, tilting his head up to face a beaming smile.
“Don’t mock me. I know you don’t fe—”
He’s cut off by a pair of thin lips and it’s almost pathetic how he completely melts into it, not at all expecting the kiss but somewhat ready for it, having, pitifully, fantasised about this scenario far too many times to be healthy.
“I love you too, you bloody idiot,” Niall whispered against his lips, and Harry is definitely crying as he hugs the blond close to him.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry mouths when they’re on stage, thousands of fans there to witness his little not-so-secret confession, and he feels incredibly small standing there in his oversized button up when Niall gives him that look, the one that has his lips quirking up and his eyes shining like Harry’s hung the very stars in the sky.
That alone is enough for him to know Niall loves him, too, and Harry can’t wait to get backstage and smother his beautiful face with a million kisses.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry rasps breathlessly, squeezing their interlaced fingers that rest beside Niall’s flushed face. He kisses him roughly as they moan into each other’s mouths, pulling away after what feels like forever to catch a breath.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of this, of seeing Niall so pretty, so vulnerable, so perfect under him, and he says just that, unable to keep his lips from the rose-red glow of his crawling blush.
Niall whines and pulls him in for another heated kiss, and Harry instantly obliges, knowing right then and there that he would do anything if only to make Niall happy.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry mutters shortly after a rushed apology, desperately trying to correct his mistake that ended up with Niall practically in tears and him pulling his hair out. “You know I do.”
He bites his lip as Niall nods, takes in a ragged breath and hastily wipes his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”
Harry tries to resist the urge to hug the boy before him and ultimately fails, wrapping his arms around shaking shoulders and feeling his shirt being bunched up by shaky fingers. He presses a soft kiss to Niall’s hairline where his roots are beginning to peek out, breathing in deeply.
“I don’t even know why we were arguing,” he professes a moment later, his heart fluttering at the weak chuckle sounding from the boy in his arms.
“Me neither,” Niall shakes his head and looks up at him, and Harry catches the last of his tears on the pad of his thumb. “We’re idiots.”
He laughs, leaning down to capture his lips with his own. “Yeah, reckon we are.”
-
“I love you,” is what Harry shouts at the same time as Niall, sending both of them into a mess of giggles. They kiss once more, for good measure, and just before it turns into a third because Harry can’t seem to get enough of his lips, Louis hollers out a “happy new year”, the drunken inflections of his voice making them laugh uncontrollably.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry whispers into blond hair as Niall falls into his arms, shaking with the force of his sobs at the loss of a bandmate, a friend, a brother.
It hurt to see him go, but it hurt even more to perform without him, as if his absence was that much more real when they were forced to relearn their choreo and music, and even more than that, their dynamic as a band.
Louis has closed himself off and Liam has gone quiet, most of their nights as a group spent in silent mourning.
Harry hates it, and as selfish as it might be, he wishes Zayn had never decided to go. How could he, knowing he was leaving behind four distraught half-boys, half-men and a broken brotherhood?
It seems Niall has taken it the worst, at least openly, moping around everywhere and staring blankly at the floor. A closer look at the lot of them though, and you would see they were worlds less energetic at tonight’s performance, the loss sort of blanketing over them, settling deep in their bones and fizzing out almost any joy.
He can feel the wetness drying on his neck, so he untangles his fingers from Niall’s soft hair to cup his jaw and really look at him.
Puffy eyes, red cheeks, hunched shoulders.
“He left us, Harry,” he chokes out, another bout of tears pooling in his eyes. “He’s gone.”
Harry doesn’t know how to articulate his feelings, so he nods, hugging Niall back into his chest as he swallows down his own cries.
-
I love you, is what Harry wants to scream, wants to shout from the rooftops so everyone could bare witness to the adoration he harboured.
He doesn’t do that though, knowing Paul and his team would only find them faster if he did.
He settles for grabbing Niall from behind and pulling his back flush with his chest, nuzzling his face into the warmth of Niall’s neck and kissing him softly.
The yelp that resonates from his victim quickly dissolves into stifled laughter. “Jesus, Harry. Give a man some space.”
Harry hums pensively. “Hm, ‘fraid I can’t do that, Ni.”
The blond covers Harry’s large hands with his own, and runs his thumb over his knuckles as he leans his head against Harry’s. “And why is that?”
“You make it impossible for me to keep my hands off you.”
Niall snorts at him and once again escapes from his grip, leading him further down into the market street buzzing with life.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry manages to say before he’s almost knocked off his feet by the force of Niall’s embrace.
He isn’t sure that he’d be able to say much else with the way his throat was tightening painfully.
He hears a faint whimper and instantly knows Niall is holding back tears.
Tonight was incredible, they had the crowd screaming louder than ever and showcased their vocals to the fullest, performed like there was no tomorrow and, in a way, there wasn’t. It was one of their best shows, and it was brutally ironic that it was their last.
Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do. What comes after One Direction? He knows he could probably pull off a solo career, definitely not as robust as the band’s but maybe enough to make a living out of it. But what if he can’t? Will he have to go back home, his real home, to live the life of a burned-out star?
He can’t tell what the future holds, but if he’s sure about anything, it’s that he won’t let go of the boy in his arms. He really doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses him.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry blurts as soon as Niall picks up the phone on the third ring.
He’s met with a tense silence and he starts to think his call was never answered in the first place before Niall eventually whispers his name. “Harry?”
“Uh, yeah, yes.” He swallows thickly and immediately regrets his decision to drink before he made this call. “Yes, it’s me. Harry.”
“Oh.” The line crackles quietly as Niall sighs into his speaker. “Hey. Something the matter?”
“Sorry.” He glares at nothing in particular when his heart clenches at Niall’s refusal to return his sentiments. “I just called to, um. Congratulate you. On your song.”
“Oh,” he says, and Harry hates how he sounds surprised, as if he wasn’t expecting Harry to say anything. “Thanks. I was scared shitless to release it, if I’m being honest.”
Harry frowns. “Why? It’s beautiful.”
Niall gives him a sad laugh. “Thanks, mate.” He can hear someone yell in the background just before Niall groans. “Sorry if there was more you wanted to say, I’ve gotta go before Deo kicks my arse. I’ll call as soon as I can, yeah?”
Harry resists the urge to reveal that he knows the song is about him, or that he knows Niall isn't likely to fulfil that promise. “Oh, okay. Alright. Bye, Niall. Love you.”
“Bye, H.”
He pretends he doesn’t notice the way Niall doesn’t say it back.
-
“I love you,” is what Harry has told many people in his life. Family, lovers, mates, fans. He comes to realise, though, that it always meant something different when it came to Niall. It never seemed to be enough to explain the depth of his feelings. The phrase was insufficient, because Niall was, is, worth so much more than those three words could ever express.