Work Text:
Work, sleep, repeat.
Work, sleep, repeat.
Work, sleep, repeat.
The mantra that defined Harry Styles' life.
He glanced at himself in his full length mirror— curly, disheveled hair. Dark circles pooling under green, exhausted eyes. His eyebrows knitted in a stern expression. An all-black, Givenchy suit clung to his lean, strong body. Though even the fanciest of clothes couldn’t hide his sleep deprivation.
Jesus — he’s let himself go, he groaned, slicking back his curls to look a bit more formal. An exasperated sigh left his lips, little time to relax— he had to be in the office promptly at five o’ clock in the morning, leaving just an hour to get ready.
“Melanie.” he croaked loudly into his expansive flat.
A brunette with bright blue eyes and a face full of freckles walked in the room. Adorning a tweed pencil skirt, billowy white blouse, and a matching tweed blazer— she appeared with two lattes in hand, and a bright smirk on her red lipstick-adorning mouth.
“Good morning, Mr. Styles.” she oozed confidence and unwavering positivity— even at this ungodly hour. Melanie was quite attractive. If Harry had any time to himself, and it did not complicate things, he would easily go for her. Shaking himself from his thoughts he grumbled, “What’s on the agenda for today, Mel?”
“Staff meeting at eight o’ clock, check emails, zoom call with overseas investors, and dinner with your mates tonight at the pub.” she winked.
A typical, arduous, boring day ahead— least he’d get to go out after. Harry had worked in business corporations fresh out of college— his father, Desmond Styles, owned a multi-million dollar business, and prepared Harry to rise to the ranks of CEO ever since he was young. Sweet, sweet, nepotism. Harry had always said, begrudgingly. He never yearned for the corporate life, but it had afforded him and his family everything they had, and his father refused to let him live a traditional, spoiled-trust fund baby lifestyle. Harry still had his position handed to him, but was always forced to put in the hard work to prove he deserved this— not only because of his namesake. He had two close friends, Zayn and Liam, otherwise— he didn’t socialize. Dedicating his entire life to his work, he rather fancied it that way— honestly. Besides being dragged to corporate parties, or clubs by his mates, Harry was quiet, reclusive, and quite grumpy.
As for relationships, it just simply can’t be in the picture. He reminisces about teenage romances, giggling while holding a girl's hand for the first time, first clumsy kisses, first stormy loves, and first passionate shags. But marriage, ‘settling down’ — not in the lexicon. Besides the occasional monthly tinder hookup- which he took no pride in— it was just Harry in his luxurious loft in London.
-
Melanie handed him his latte, and yapped on and on about the day's affairs. Harry stared out the window of the limo they rode to the office in, daydreaming about the simpler things. Tuning out the exhaustive, laundry-list that awaited him at work. He adored Melanie, but not this early in the morning. At four-forty five they arrived at the office, the huge building hulking over them. Once settled in at his desk, he idly scrolled through his excessive inbox, quickly typing out replies.
Only 12 more hours left
-
After work, the streets of London were vibrating with excitement, it was Friday, after all. Harry opted to walk the few blocks home tonight, needing some fresh air. Zayn and Liam were probably calling and texting him incessantly about now, chiding him for not being prompt for their dinner reservations. He was equal parts anticipating and dreading the evening. Not that he didn’t adore his mates, just— he really wanted to cuddle up into his duvet and watch last week’s episode of The Bachelorette , maybe tuck into some junk food.
Zayn and Liam were the two mates he met while in uni, he always referred to them together, as the two were the most insufferable, sickly sweet couple to ever exist. They were practically attached at the hip, you couldn’t separate Zayn and Liam if you tried. Their dynamic was enviable, Zayn was a successful fashion model in the city, leaving his uni art degree to collect dust. He was tall, dark, and frustratingly handsome. He had tattoos coating his arms, and a ‘bad boy’ exterior. He was the entire reason Harry started getting into tattoos— his father threatened to freeze his trust fund when he found out. Made him promise he would only get tattoos where a suit could cover. Harry did oblige to these terms, but still covered a good portion of his arms and chest with black ink. Liam, on the other hand, was so different from both Harry and Zayn alike. He was the ideal, stereotypical well-rounded guy. Brown hair, ideal looks, tanned skin, and preppy style. Liam volunteered, worked as a full time nurse, and woo’ed everyone he met.
Yet the two boys were the perfect pair. Liam brought out the soft, sweet side of the quiet, bad boy. And Zayn, well he had Liam wrapped around his finger.
They both gave each other their all— and adored every piece of one another. It made Harry absolutely sick. (ok, maybe he loved their dynamic, loved them, and deep down- wished it for himself).
-
Harry quickly skimmed through his closet for something more casual for dinner, figuring his black button down shirt, skinny jeans, and boots would suffice. He slipped on some rings and a metal cross pendant to top off the outfit. Glancing in the mirror, he fluffed out his hair— this would have to do. His phone buzzed in his pocket, he sighed, anticipating the chiding he would be receiving for running late.
Liam:
Just a heads up, we invited a friend to tag along with us tonight. See ya soon xx.
A friend? He wondered who they possibly forced to tag along.
‘Guess they got tired of me third wheeling.’
-
He arrived at the dimly lit pub. It wasn’t particularly crowded for a Friday, which was a nice change of pace. Harry’s stomach growled in anxious anticipation of greasy pub food. The host ushered him back to a booth tucked in the very back corner of the pub. Zayn and Liam sat side by side, with their hands seemingly intertwined under the table. They waved and signaled him over with them.
“Hey, workaholic, didn’t think we’d see you again.” Zayn snorted.
Liam simply smiled, he was the sweet one of the couple. “Oh sod off, I showed up didn’t I?” Not an ounce of malice in Harry’s voice, he was so happy to see them again. Sliding into the booth across from them, settling into the cool leather seats.
“Thought you two were going to invite a friend, did we get stood up?” he cocked his head in confusion.
“Nah, mate. He’ll be here, just stuck in traffic.” Liam remarked, whilst shoving a chip into his mouth.
Zayn wrinkled his nose at the brunette, “Li, have some manners”
The waitress came up, she was wearing a cute plaid apron, her light brown hair pulled into an up do, she had pretty pink lips that shown with lip-gloss and shining, deep brown eyes
“Any drinks tonight, fellas?” she quipped in a high-pitched, sweet voice.
“A pint for each of us, and a refill on the chips, please.” Liam smiled, the girl practically swooning over his boyish, good looks.
Harry snorted as she walked away, “Always the charmer, Li.”
“You’re just jealous you aren’t getting laid, Styles.” Zayn huffed, in defense of his beau.
“No interest in getting laid right now, Z, not enough time for it.”
Harry titled his head back, sighing audibly. He knows his friends mean well, just want the best for him, want him to finally settle down and put himself out there — but, he wasn’t sure he was ready- or would ever be ready for that.
“Harry” , Liam grabbed his hand from across the table. “We just want you to try to have some fun on occasion, perhaps a date wouldn’t kill you, yeah?”
Harry scoffed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Their discussion was interrupted by the presence of their guest, or at least Harry assumed it was. It was a boy with blond hair, impossibly pale skin, and penetrating blue eyes. He was wearing an oversized, ratty jumper that covered his hands, and faded jeans adorning his skinny legs.
“Ay, sorry I'm so late lads, traffic can suck my-”
“Erm, Niall, I'd like to introduce you to our friend, Harry Styles.” Liam smiled, cutting off the Irish lad's profanity.
“Oh.” the blonds lips formed a circle, clearly not expecting a third guest.
“Hi, Niall. Nice to meet you.” Harry extended his hand.
Niall slipped his tiny, pale hand into his. Harry watched as his tan hand completely enveloped his, the blond was really soft.
“Sorry for my language, mate, wasn’t expectin’ a guest.” Niall scratched the back of his head nervously, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
“S’alright, didn’t know you were going to be here until thirty minutes ago.”
Harry mumbled, sliding into the left side corner of the booth, allowing room for the blond to slip in next to him. Scooting in next to Harry, the blond's body radiated heat, he instinctively wanted to tuck into the warmth, it was such a cold evening— but he reprimanded himself mentally.
'Boundaries, Harry, boundaries’ he chided internally.
“Niall is a photographer, he was in charge of photoshoots for me a couple of times, we let him crash on our couch every now and then.” Zayn quipped.
Harry glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye, and didn't think someone could blush so much. It even spread down the blond’s neck, probably even to his chest— Harry imagined. The boy had so many light freckles dusting his ruddy cheeks.
“Alrigh’, Zayn, didn’t hav’ to tell him that.” he grumbled through his thick, Irish accent— crossing his arms defiantly.
Zayn chuckled.
“We babysit this blond elf, in return he entertains us.”
Niall rolled his eyes.
“And Harry is our friend from uni, Ni. He works nearly constantly and is the most uptight man in the universe.”
Harry scoffed.
“Well, nice t’ meet ya, ‘arry.” Niall turned towards him, revealing a sweet, toothy smile.
“You as well. Anyone who is a friend of Liam and Zayn, is a friend of mine.”
The four took turns digging into the chips, downing pint after pint. Harry still felt rather reserved, letting his mates keep the conversation going, interjecting with the occasional quip. Quickly he learned that Niall was loud . And it should be annoying, but for some reason it’s tolerable. He laughs from his gut, tosses his head back theatrically, his Irish accent fills up the room.
Niall leaned his leg against his underneath the table.
Interesting.
The night proceeded rather smoothly, his belly full of greasy chips and cheap beer. His cheeks were warm, feeling a little tipsy, maybe he tossed back one pint too many. Niall on the other hand, seemed just as sober as when he walked in, despite downing more pints than the rest of them. Talk about living up to the stereotype.
“Think I'll get a cab home.”
Harry threw down a wad of cash to cover the bill and a tip.
“Uh, can I chip in? Help pay for the meal?” Niall grabbed for his wallet earnestly.
“Nah, I can cover it.” Harry shrugged, the least he could do, and the bar tab was the least of his concern, money wasn’t an issue to him.
“Let our sugar daddy take care of you, Ni.” Zayn winked, earning a playful slap from Liam, (although the brunette was still chuckling madly at his boyfriend).
Niall blushed, shoving his own tattered wallet back into his jeans.
-
The London air was chilly as Harry waited for the cab he called to show up. Everything felt a bit fuzzy, the alcohol really setting in— he hated how much of a lightweight he could be.
Cursed himself for not bringing along a jacket, this flimsy top not doing anything to protect against the elements. Melanie made him buy it, it was an overpriced Balmain from their new collection. It was a cute button up, but maybe not for the brisk weather.
“Harry!” He heard a voice call from behind him.
He turned, slightly grumpy, that someone was making him move. A familiar blond jogged towards him.
“You left your wallet in the booth, wanted to make sure it got back to ya.”
Niall was a bit breathless from the jog, his hair poking in different directions from the wind, his cheeks red. How are his eyes so incredibly blue? A pale hand slipped the wallet into his larger grip, the blond scurried away with a quick goodnight , walking off into the opposite direction.
His hand was left buzzing from his touch. Odd . Harry didn’t give it much more thought, hopping into the cab, filing the night into his memories.
-
Saturday morning came like a tumultuous tsunami, his head crashing with waves of hangover pain. The sun bleeding in through sheer curtains, burning like an open flame. Throat scratched, hair tousled, body weak. Eyelids were so heavy, near impossible to blink open. The chiming of his ringtone booming through his room. Rolling over with a groan, Harry grabbed his phone off of the nightstand.
3 missed calls - Melanie
“Fuck.”
Quickly dialing back, he winced at the loud ring, flinching away from the sound.
“Harry, darling! Happy Saturday. Sorry to wake you, but you have to meet with your father later for dinner. I’ll have a pressed suit sent to the house, reservations are made for Le Gavroche at seven.”
He groaned into his phone to cement his lack of enthusiasm.
“M’hungover as shite, Mel.”
“I’ll have some breakfast and a coffee sent your way with the suit, get a shower and get up to par for the evening!”
He begrudgingly pulled himself out of his California king, tearing from the comfort of the plush duvet. Head spinning he waltzed towards the shower, the faucet shooting burning water down his spine. Achy body reveling in the warmth. Harry slipped out after fifteen minutes, quickly drying his hair and body, and wrapping a towel around his waist. As he walked back into his bedroom, the wallet returned to him the night before grabbed his attention. A white strip of paper poked out, just barely. He grabbed it curiously, revealing a little note hidden in its contents.
Maybe we can make this happen again? Xx Niall
A little note and a phone number, scratched onto the back of the receipt from the previous night.
-
Harry tossed the note into the bin. Nope. No. Not happening.
Not that Niall wasn’t — well, Niall. But he just knew this, whatever it was, wouldn’t end well.
He continued to get ready for dinner with his father tonight, trying to shove the blond as far into the back of his brain as he possibly could.
-
Liam
Thanks for coming last night, H. Me and Z are having a game night tomorrow. You should come, it will be fun.
Harry
Who’s going to be there?
Liam
Just us, Niall, and his friend Louis.
Harry
Alright, fine. I’ll bring snacks.
-
So much for ignoring the blond. Maybe a part of Harry was a little curious to gauge his intentions.
-
With the help of Melanie’s food delivery, the hangover was quelled momentarily. Harry slipped into the suit sent over, it was Tom Ford, classic navy blue— traditional, perfect to suit his father’s modest tastes. He slicked back his hair, wanting to look proper for the evening. Begrudgingly removing his rings, necklaces— carefully making sure each of his tattoos were properly concealed. Perfectly prepped to be inundated with talk about finances, business and logistics.
-
Dinner with his father went as expected. Desmond hardly looked up from his plate of spaghetti, rambling about how they had to close this deal with foreign investors. Harry honestly couldn’t bring himself to care, swirling his fork around his salad absentmindedly, humming in agreement to seem attentive. The restaurant was packed. Couples surrounded them, chatting over their small portions, canned laughs and flirty smiles.
Sigh.
Meanwhile Harry was sharing French cuisine with his father on Saturday evening.
Maybe he did need to get out more.
-
Sunday evening, despite his better judgement, Harry sat in front of Zayn and Liam’s apartment, snacks in tow. He came straight from an emergency meeting at the office, way too dressed up for a game night — it would have to be managed, he didn’t have time to stop at his flat. Liam greeted him with a puzzled expression,
“Coulda worn sweats, mate.”
Some statements were best met with an eye roll.
“Thanks, Li. I didn’t have time to stop home.”
Harry snorted, handing him the bag of snacks.
As expected, Zayn and Niall were chatting away on the couch. A boy with a short pixie cut sat by them, he assumed this was Louis, Niall’s friend. They collectively glanced over at Harry.
“Hey, sorry for being late. Stuck at the office.” Harry smiled shyly.
He slipped off his blazer, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with how overdressed he was.
“Harry, have you ever considered a vacation ?” Zayn jokes, standing up to meet him in a greeting hug.
Niall waved from over Zayn’s shoulder. The blond looked a bit shy, a light blush dusting his cheeks, he looked up at Harry through his eyelashes. The Irish boy was wearing sweatpants and a tank top that hardly covered his chest. Niall wasn’t necessarily buff, but his arms were defined— wasn’t exactly what Harry was expecting. The blond was so pale , practically glowing. It was captivating in a bizarre way.
“Hey, Niall. Nice to see you again.”
Harry detached himself from Zayn’s hug, reaching a hand out to Niall. He shyly put out his hand, slipping into Harry’s firmer, stronger grasp. Harry felt that little tingle in his hand again, the blond made him buzz to the touch. Weird. He would examine that thought later.
“And nice to meet you, Louis, I presume?”
The boy smiled, mischievously at that.
“Ahhh yes, Harry. Niall told me all about you.”
He winked. That was bizarre. Harry wanted to pry about what Niall did say about him, but Liam quickly cut off the conversation— pulling out a stack of board games.
“So, what shall we play first, gents?”
“Well I say we play a bit of twenty one questions, get to know each other a bit more, yeah?”
Zayn chimed in. They all nodded, Liam sat down to the right of Louis on the couch. Niall and Zayn sat next to each other on the loveseat adjacent to the other two boys. Leaving Harry to sit cross legged on the floor.
“Alright, we’ll start with Harry, since, both Louis and Niall don’t know a thing about you.”
Zayn winked. He knew Harry hated being asked questions, his friends refused to let him feel peace.
“So, we’ll just go down the line, we each ask Harry a question, when we hit twenty one, we move onto drilling the next person.”
-
It started off rather simple. Favorite color was always blue. Favorite meal is filet mignon from most Michelin star restaurants. Favorite animal is a Zebra, ever since he saw one at the zoo when he was four.
Simple, grade school questions. Of course, it would be the devious Zayn to give him an imposing, personal question.
“Sexuality?”
“Emmmm….” Harry blushed.
Harry never really talked about it honestly. He always felt that his feelings of lust and love didn’t take into consideration gender. He’s mainly been in relationships with women, but he had quite a few flings with men— and rather enjoyed it.
“I guess bisexual? Pansexual? Not really sure where I fit. Only thing I know for sure is, I find women and men pretty.”
“Right on mate, alright Niall, your turn to ask a question.” Zayn winked.
Harry wished he knew what Zayn was playing at.
“What do you do for a living?” Niall quipped nervously, playing with the threads of his tank top.
“Work at a corporation, owned by my father. Boring business work. I basically read emails, have meetings, and keep things in order.” Harry shrugged. It always felt embarrassing introducing this part of his life to other people.
“That explains the posh suit, eh?” Niall chuckled.
God , he had a pretty laugh.
The boys continued asking stupid questions, they eventually abandoned the ‘rules’ of the game, just asking each other random tidbits about everyone.
Harry learned a lot. Niall is super Irish, grew up super poor, and has more college debt than sanity. He works as a photographer for a magazine. Zayn and him had immediately hit it off as friends at a shoot. He loves nandos, cuddling, and playing Halo. And most scandalously, he’s a bottle blond. Essentially, Niall is a frat boy living in an angel's porcelain body. Harry also took quite a liking to Louis. He was Niall’s friend from uni; he was a mischievous, short man. He liked pranking Niall and hanging out with girlfriend Eleanor.
“Guess I’ll be the token straight friend of the group, eh?”
Louis snickered, flinging a pillow at Niall’s head. And oh , Niall wasn’t straight. And that made Harry feel…. weird . Not in a bad way. But his stomach turned a bit, felt like someone lit a match in his belly.
-
They sat and pigged out on the snacks Harry brought. Niall eagerly shoved his face with cheese puffs. Harry cursed himself for still finding him attractive despite it. Louis excused himself early, having a date with his girlfriend Eleanor at eight. Zayn and Liam were busy cooing over each other in the corner, leaving just Niall and Harry to themselves.
“Ugh, how do you hang out with these two alone, Ni. They’re disgusting .” Harry scrunched his nose.
The blond released a guttural, genuine laugh.
“Dunno. Young love is beautiful, m’ a hopeless romantic after all. Plus, they let me sleep on their couch, if I complain, they’ll kick me out.”
“Do you not have a flat?”
Harry didn’t want to be too forward. But was a bit curious why the boy needed a place to stay so often.
“I mean, technically? Well, I did a few weeks ago. Flat was too far from London, couldn’t afford my crazy fuckin’ rent. Zayn and I became such close friends that once he figured out I had been couch surfing at random peoples houses— he practically begged me to stay for a bit, til’ I get back on my feet.”
Harry frowned.
“I’m sorry, mate. That’s awful.”
Niall shrugged, the smile ever present on his face.
“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll figure it out. Got some money finally saved up, hopefully I can find a place by the end of the month. Fuckin’ hate imposing on these two. Don’t get me wrong, they’re brilliant, I’m so grateful they let me stay but— this is their home. Not mine.” He swigged a drink from his beer on the floor.
Harry couldn’t believe it. He’d be stressed beyond comprehension if he didn’t have a place to stay. Yet Niall sat before him, smiling as if the world was in his hand.
“Well, I’m here for you too now, Niall. Anything you need.”
Fuck.
Niall practically beamed .
—
Harry figured he should get going now, they all chatted and goofed around til’ nearly midnight.
“You can always stay, Haz, if you don’t wanna call a cab.”
Liam smiled gently.
“Thanks, Li. But I had Melanie call me a cab. Gotta get ready for tomorrow. Busy day as usual.” Harry groaned.
A confused look flashed across Niall’s face,
“Melanie?”
Harry giggled, “My assistant. Nothing more.”
As much as staying the night sounded delightful, work always came first. He said his goodbye’s, Niall was already half asleep curled into the couch as he left.
—
When he got back to his flat that night, he couldn’t fall asleep. His mind was racing with blue eyes, bright blushes, blond hair, freckles, pale skin. Harry hadn’t crushed on someone since uni. Can’t believe all it took was a loud, Irish photographer to get him smitten for the first time in ages. He rummaged through the bin to find the discarded phone number from earlier, entering it into his phone.
Harry
Hey Niall, it’s me, Harry. Just found your number in my wallet.
Niall
Hi mate! Thx 4 txtin. Y r u awake?
Harry
Can’t sleep. Why are you awake, hm?
Niall
Same reason I guess hahahahah. Can't believe London’s richest man is texting me!!
Harry
Oh shutup. How do you sleep on that uncomfortable couch anyway?
Niall
Rude! Also, painfully. Anyway, go get some sleep, Mr. Styles!!!! Or I’ll tell ur assistant on u. ;) x
Harry laid his phone on his night stand, falling asleep with a smile plastering his face.
—
A week passed by before Harry responded to the previous text. Work kept him so preoccupied, he tried earnestly to push Niall to the back of his mind. But no matter how much he wanted to forget him, his heart ached for Niall. Even Melanie pointed out how spaced out he’d been lately. Harry gave up running from it, relenting and sending the boy a text.
Harry
Sorry for going AFK. Wanna grab coffee on Saturday?
Niall
Sure thing, Mr. Styles. Do I have 2 wear a tux?
Harry
Your normal attire of sweatpants will suffice ;)
Niall
Arsehole!
-
His leg jittered up and down rapidly.
‘Why am I so bloody nervous?’
The most intimidating business moguls didn’t even spark an ounce of nervousness in him, yet Niall Horan made his heart beat like it was going to give out. Sitting in the corner of a quaint café, Harry already downed half his coffee. It was only eight, Niall wasn’t meant to meet up until eight thirty, but Harry came early purely out of nerves. He wasn’t sure if this was a date. He never explicitly stated it to be as such, but he did intend it to be. Harry didn’t want to date anyone, didn’t want to get serious or pursue romance. But something about Niall — it would simply be a crime to not try to make the blond his. The buzzing of his phone brought Harry out of his idle thoughts.
Melanie
Don’t forget, you’re Harry fucking Styles. You’ll smash this date!
Harry smiled down at his phone. He told Mel all about Niall, she became somewhat of his wing-woman honestly. Giving him much needed confidence to make a date— and actually show up. (which Harry in the past had a dreadful habit of making date plans with others in the heat of the moment, and never showing out of nerves). But Niall was special. He wanted to get to know him more. Listen to him ramble about Mullingar until the sun sets.
—
Eight thirty two. No sight of Niall. Harry’s stomach flipped. He took the liberty to order them both pumpkin spice coffees and cinnamon rolls. Hoping Niall would like his choices. He knew the blond loved food more than anything. Harry made sure to grab the bill early, not wanting Niall to pay for a thing, or feel obligated to. He liked treating the blond boy, and making him feel spoiled.
‘Calm down, It’s been two minutes’ he assured himself, drumming his fingers nervously on his thigh. The sound of a little bell chimed through the café, alerting of a new customer entering. Surely enough, it was Niall. He was wearing a pretty, dark green jumper, and some jeans. He looked good. (As always).
“Harry!” Niall smiled. (god, he practically glowed ).
“Hey, Ni.”
Harry stood up, pulling the blond into a tight hug.
“So, what did I do to earn the pleasure of having coffee with the infamous man himself?”
Niall smiled, that familiar shit-eating grin.
If it were anyone else smirking at him like that, he’d find it beyond smug and annoying. But the blond boy wore the smugness well, pretty privilege, letting cute people be smug arseholes.
“Shut up, Ni. Figured it was about time I took you on a date, got to know you, properly— and more importantly alone. ”
“You don’t want more double dates with Zayn and Li?”
The blond was blushing, bright red cheeks, his pretty blue eyes looking nervously down at his lap.
“Just wanna get to know the real you. What’s your favorite song, your dreams, your future goals, how you take your coffee . . .” He punctuated his sentence by stirring his own coffee. Harry blushed a bit himself. Weird.
“Well firstly, I hate coffee.” Niall grimaced, stirring his drink with a frown.
“But I do like you.”
--
Turns out dating Niall was the antithesis of all things Harry. Harry was determined, focused, serious and stern. As Zayn would say uptight. He didn’t really do much other than bury himself in work.
Niall was sporadic, loud, silly, and messy. He was a bit like a frat boy, honestly. Making sex jokes, chewing with his mouth open, the true life of the party. He spent his days with his friends, lighting up every room he was in. On photo shoots, (a few of which Harry had the luxury of spectating), Niall transformed into a different version of himself. He became quite reserved and focused on every shot. Working with his models in a relaxed, kind fashion. He was truly an artist, his photographers bringing his subjects to life.
Dating Niall turned out to be different . Because yes, there was a messy, loud frat boy Niall. There was quiet, focused photographer Niall.
But Harry got to see a third side to him. (arguably his best). When it was only Harry around, Niall was always adorning a blush. He became so soft and shy. Harry would run his fingers across his heated cheeks, poking every faint freckle from the bridge of his nose, to his soft cheeks. Niall talked to him in a different tone when they were alone, softer and sweeter. He would gaze up at Harry with bashful eyes, his pupils dilated in adoration. Niall was a bit like a kitten around him. Harry would hold him in his arms, the blond cuddling into his side, rubbing his tiny nose along his neck.
Just like that, was how they had their first kiss. Harry dragged Niall to the cinema, some excessive action movie that he knew they wouldn’t have to pay attention to. He lifted up the arm rest and pulled the blond against his hip. Nervous blue eyes, barely visibly stared back at him shyly. Harry couldn’t resist him, not this version of him. So shy, so sweet and beyond irresistible. Tanned hands were tilting his chin up, leaning into shiny pink lips with nervous anticipation. It was the first time Harry properly kissed a boy. Not in the heat of lust or a nervous dare. He kissed Niall with fervor, with pure infatuation running through his veins.
To say he felt a spark, would sorely be an understatement.
—
The first time Niall came to his flat, his mouth was agape in amazement.
Harry shrugged, “Best flat I could find near work, nothing special, but it’s my place.”
“ Nothing special? Haz, I would fuckin’ lose my mind if I ever had a flat this nice. The boys weren’t kidding when they said you were posh.”
“I dunno. I’m glad you like it. That’s what really matters.” Harry smiled. A bit bashful, felt a bit weird being known as the token ‘rich’ friend of the group.
At least he could pamper Niall, felt nice to use his money towards someone meaningful. Harry discovered something about himself. He showed his love through gift giving. Picking up Niall a bouquet of the best roses after work, buying him fancy imported chocolates, scarves, and cute clothes.
—
Niall became such a constant fixture in his life, he found it hard to imagine how he managed before. Everyday after a shift, he knew a blond boy would be lazed out on his couch, eating snacks and watching tele. It made the long days so much more bearable knowing what he would come home to. Niall hadn’t moved in officially, they had only been dating for a little over two months now— but he crashed at his place almost everyday of the week. (It wasn't too bad having a cute, blond boy in bed with him). Found it pointless for him to go crash at Zayn and Liam’s, when Harry would prefer him by his side anyway. He even gave Niall a copy of the key, so he could be there even while Harry was working.
It did all feel a bit fast, and normally Harry would have his reservations. But something about Niall was undeniably special.
Zayn and Liam took the news of their relationship quite well. (probably happy to finally have uninterrupted ‘alone time’). Niall texted Louis the news, and he seemed relieved Niall was finally getting laid. (typical boy). Harry couldn’t fathom how wonderful his life has gotten. Couldn’t fathom wanting anything but what he currently had. He never felt so complete.
—
Epilogue
The oh so typical ringing of his phone rang through the flat.
‘ Fuck me.’
Melanie
You both need to be dressed and ready for tonight. No later than five. No excuses, Mr. Styles!
—
It was only seven in the morning. Mel just loved waking Harry up early, even on a Saturday— his day off. Harry grunted, outstretching his arms and legs. A warm body snored softly beside him. Only the fluff of messy blond hair poking out from the white duvet. He slowly pulled the duvet down, revealing a pale, sleepy face. Taking a moment in admiration, blond eyelashes fluttered, the sun bathing the boy in warm light shining in through the curtains. He looked beautiful — as he always did. Niall was truly angelic.
“Ni, baby. We have to get up.”
Harry only received a disgruntled groan and a pillow in his face in response.
—
When they finally got up and dressed for the day. ( maybe they got distracted by sleepy kisses and sloppy blowjobs under the covers). Harry scheduled Niall an appointment with a tailor at two, he would get fitted to his new suit for dinner tonight. (Melanie helped him pick out the sharpest Dolce & Gabbana suit money could buy). Harry would do some paperwork while the blond was gone, and get dressed in time for five when Niall returned. They exchanged quick kisses as Niall left for the day.
Harry breathed out nervously. Tonight was the night.
—
Melanie came at five, to chaperone Niall and Harry to their car.
“Awww, you boys look beautiful! ” She cooed, straightening out Niall’s tie, before leading them into the suv.
Harry wore an all black suit with a black (his favorite), and Niall looked breathtaking. A navy blue suit and a red tie, with a white pocket square as a flourish.
‘ Harry, I’ve never worn a suit in my life. It Feels so weird.’
‘You’re beautiful, Ni. Relax, babe.’
—
Tonight’s venue was Bocca di Lupo, his father’s favorite Italian restaurant. Desmond was already waiting at the table. Typical . He was already tucking into his Caesar salad.
“Dad.” Harry smiled nervously. Desmond placed his salad fork down gently, standing up upon their arrival. He reached out and gave his father a firm handshake.
“Mr. Styles, it’s so nice to meet you.” Niall beamed, nervously reaching out his hand.
Harry locked eyes with Niall briefly.
You’re doing great. You’ve got this. You’re the best.
Harry tried to telepathically ease the nerves of Niall. Knew the blond was so incredibly nervous for this night.
Surprisingly, for being an older, more stoic and traditional individual — Desmond wasn’t even remotely phased when Harry told him he was dating a man. If anything, he was more concerned that Harry was getting used for his money. Or getting his heartbroken. (Desmond would never show it, but he was wildly protective over his only son. Was more proud of him than he could express).
“Nice to meet you, Niall. You better not hurt my son.”
—
The night went off better than Harry could have dreamed. Niall charmed the worries out of his father, knew he would, the blond made everyone fall in love with him. The two rambled on about soccer, Ireland, and Niall’s work in photography. When they finished their meals, Niall excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving just Des and Harry alone at the table.
“Harry, I think he’s the one.”
“Me too, Dad. I’m going to marry that boy someday.”
—
Harry and Niall walked side by side in the London streets, their lies loosened, bellies full, and faces beaming. This is what love felt like. “Harry, we fuckin’ smashed that dinner. Your Dad is bloody amazin’. He even gave me his seal of approval. Can you fuckin’ believe it?” Harry grinned,
“Knew you would, love. You’re the best man I know. Anyone would be proud to have you.” Niall blushed, his skin gleamed in the night sky. He kicked nervously at the pavement. (probably scuffing his new shoes, but Harry would reprimand him for that later).
“Next up, maybe we can visit Ireland sometime? Visit me Mum and Da. They’d bloody love you. Way better than my other boyfriends.” Niall grimaced at the thought.
“Niall, whether it be London, Ireland, Japan anywhere really.
. . . For you, the world.”