Work Text:
Harry Styles doesn't know why the sky is blue. He doesn't know how airplanes fly or what the capital of Bhutan is. In fact, Harry Styles doesn't know a lot of things. It's not that he's stupid, oh no, not at all! It's just that he's not very...attentive.
One thing Harry does know though--and he knows this one for a fact--is that human beings are very beautiful creatures. All of them, every single one. And this one little truth, really the only thing he's sure of, happens to be the one thing that seems to get him in trouble the most.
He's fickle, he knows that. He's fickle and impulsive and easily distracted. And it’s not that he doesn’t want a relationship per say, it’s that he doesn’t do very well in them. Mostly because relationships often require monogamy and commitment, both of which he regularly fails at. And it's not that he doesn't try. But then there is a Jack that looks like Matt Bomer and a Mia who dances like Shakira and suddenly Harry's hand is on his hip and his mouth on her lips.
It's like this: people are like art. And like art, you can't sit there and admire just one piece forever. Well, that's Harry's logic anyway.
An ex of Harry's named Nick once told him that he was an “inconsiderate ass-hat who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants even if he had a vagina" after he'd found out that Harry had cheated on him with five other people. But he really couldn't blame Harry because it'd never been decided that they weren't allowed to fuck other people.
Harry was a tad dispirited about that one because Nick was sweet and funny and often paid for his meals. He was also a popular DJ so when they went out, they were always VIP. Harry sighed, thinking about the lavish, plush seats behind the roped off areas where the drinks tasted better and the crowd was more attractive. He’d miss that the most.
Harry worked in a coffee shop. A charming, quaint one right in centre of town called Barbara's and it attracted a lot of interesting people. It was like Harry's own personal art museum but better because he was allowed to touch the art on display. Actually, he was allowed to do a lot more than touch.
He kept hooking up with people, on and off. He had great sex with a lot of good looking people, some of whom he’s not even allowed to name for legal reasons. He had a fun and Harry likes fun.
After Nick, the longest ‘relationship’ he had was with Zayn. Zayn is a writer-cum-singer-cum-painter. In fact, Harry doesn't think there is a single kind of artist that Zayn isn't. He used to come into the coffee shop every Wednesday. Sometimes he'd be carrying a sketchbook, sometimes a leather bound journal, sometimes a camera and sometimes just his headphones. One day he'd asked Harry to model for him.
"I want to do a figure drawing of you," he'd said, eyes twinkling with amusement.
Harry licked his lips, his heart beating slightly faster than normal, and just nodded. It was only when he'd arrived at Zayn's apartment-cum-studio that he found out that "figure drawing" meant nude sketches.
Zayn hadn't ended up doing much sketching that night anyway.
The best thing about Zayn was that he was exactly like Harry. It didn’t bother Zayn that Harry kissed other mouths, and it didn’t bother Harry that Zayn sucked other dicks. Plus, Harry actually liked Zayn. He was a piece that Harry kept wanting to come back to.
But then Zayn met Liam and things changed completely, but not really in a bad way because Liam is one of those guys who is just genuinely very nice. He’s the type of guy who really means his apologies and gives up the last cookie at the shop because a little girl wanted it. So it didn’t really surprise Harry when, after two dates with Liam, Zayn called it quits on them.
Harry was actually really bummed because while Zayn was a great lay, it wasn’t just that; it was because between blowjobs and anal beads, they’d actually become really good friends.
“I’m gonna miss you, Z,” Harry had murmured, stroking Zayn’s bottom lip gently with his thumb.
"I'll miss you too, Harry," he'd sighed, pulling Harry in for a parting kiss.
But then two days later he got a text from Liam asking if he wanted to grab a few pints.
Then immediately after, another one from Zayn.
Talked to Li. He's cool with us, just no fucking ;) See you tonight!
No other text had ever made Harry that happy before. He quickly sent a reply.
You’re my best friend, Z. xx
People often think they're in a polyamorous relationship, ask them about it too. Zayn beams and Liam just chuckles fondly, but Harry corrects them right away. Zayn and Liam are each other's alone; he would never make sense in what they have. And then he explains his painting theory.
But sometimes though, when he comes home to no one waiting for him, or wakes up tangled in not legs but sheets, he thinks about what it would be like to know every line of just one painting; to know every shade, every brush stroke.
He thinks of hanging one up above his bed.
--
“Barbara! BARBARA!" Harry shouts from the till. He can hear Aretha Franklin blaring from the speakers he got her for Christmas.
A stout lady with a friendly face and warm, cheerful eyes come bustling out of the kitchen.
"Alright alright don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm here, what is it?" she huffs at him. She's got a patch of flour smeared across her forehead and a dab of chocolate on her chin. IT’s so typically Barbara.
Harry smiles at her, completely endeared. "Nothing. Just haven't seen your lovely face today and I thought the sun hadn't risen," he coos with a smirk.
But Barbara has known Harry for over five years now. "Alright, little demon, what do you want?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.
He drops his mouth open in mock surprise, but there is no point. "I need Sunday off." He has a date. With a model.
She smiles, shaking her head. "Do I ever say no?"
Harry's list of people he loves is very short, but Barbara is definitely on it.
"Now get back to work, ya big oaf!" she tells him, pinching his arse slighting as she rushes back into the kitchen.
Harry's worked at this coffee shop for over five years now, starting as a washer and making his way up to assistant manager. The funny thing is, they don't have an actual manager for him to assist, but Barbara says she can't possibly make a 21-year-old student a manager; so Harry goes along with it.
It's a quiet day, only a handful of people sipping coffee or biting into their croissants. It's a really nice space, the coffee shop is; mixed-and-matched antique chairs and tables, large windows with sunlight streaming through. And Barbara always insists on playing Frank Sinatra or Aretha Franklin even though the crowd is mostly students.
He's quietly humming "My Way" and putting on another pot on coffee when he hears a voice say, "Excuse me?"
He turns around to find a blonde boy with large blue eyes staring back at him. The back of his neck prickles.
"Yes?"
"This song? It's Frank Sinatra right?" he asks, leaning up against the counter. He has an Irish accent and it makes Harry swallow thickly.
"Yes, it is. I'm sorry but I can't change--" he starts to explain but he's interrupted.
"No no, I don't want you to change it. Love Sinatra. Not many places play him nowadays. Anyway, can I get a chamomile tea and a chocolate chip muffin please?" He smiles at Harry and well--he's pretty. Very pretty.
"Sure, anything else? Our croissants are famous," he upsells like the good worker he is. Or maybe he just wants to keep this blonde boy talking. Whatever.
"Uhm...no. Maybe next time," he declines, reaching for his wallet.
"So I'll get to see you again then?" Harry asks cheekily, trapping his lower lip between his teeth.
The splash of pink appears on the blonde's cheeks and he seems slightly stricken. "I--I'm sorry?"
Harry grin grows wider. "Don't be sorry. That'll be $3.45. And your phone number," he says confidently.
The blonde just blinks back at him. Then he quickly hands Harry a 5-dollar bill, grabs his coffee and muffin and shouts "keep the change!" as he rushes out the door.
And Harry just stands at the counter, holding the 5-dollar bill, no phone number and a burning desire to learn the blonde boy's name.
--
Harry's almost forgotten about the boy until he almost runs right into him at the university library. He's wearing glasses this time and fuck, he looks hot.
"I'm s--" he starts to say, but he recognizes Harry and becomes flustered all over again. "uhm--sorry. I'm sorry."
He starts to leave, but Harry's got a hand around his bicep. "Hey listen. I might have come off a little too strong at the coffee shop and I'm really sorry if it made you uncomfortable. It's just, I think you're really cute, is all."
The boy doesn't say anything for a while. "It's okay. But I really do have to go. I have class," he says, looking slightly apologetic. And then he's out of Harry's grasp just as quickly as he'd bolted from the coffee shop.
"Hey!" Harry shouts after him. "Can you at least tell me your name?"
He looks slightly conflicted, but then after a minute he shouts back, "Niall!" And then he's out the door.
Harry smiles smugly to himself, satisfied. "Niall."
--
Niall is constantly on Harry's mind.
"Do you see his face everywhere? Hear his voice ringing through your ears all the time?" Colin, one of the few other baristas that works with Harry, asks him one time.
Harry rolls his eyes as a reply. Colin's known to be a bit...theatrical. It's not like that at all. Instead it's when his thoughts are empty. It's when nothing else is occupying his mind that his stray thoughts lead him back to those twinkling blue eyes and head of gold hair.
"It's dyed, you know." That's Colin again, shattering his image.
"How could you ever know that?" Harry snaps back. He doesn't even know why he's irritated by this claim, there's nothing wrong with dying your hair. But it was made almost as an accusations and, well, Harry didn't like it.
"Because, sweetheart, I'm a drama major. We dye our hair more often than we change our fucking underwear." And with that, Colin swivels around and gives Harry the cold shoulder for the rest of his shift.
But he could care less, Harry could. About Niall dyeing his hair (also about Colin but that's not relevant).
He tells Zayn and Liam about it a week later. He's not sure why he waited this long, but he did. Harry's not much in the habit of overthinking.
"Just shag him and get it out of your system," Zayn advises as he dices up the onions. Liam throws a carrot stick at him.
"Don't talk about someone like that, Zayn," Liam scolds and Zayn has the decency to look slightly guilty. "Maybe just try and talk to him and figure out what's going on."
After dinner, when Liam is taking out the trash and completely out of ear shot, Harry leans into Zayn and whispers, "You're right. But I think he's...like scared or intimidated by me or something. He runs away every time."
Zayn laughs at him, pulling him into a hug. "Well with a face like that, who wouldn't?"
Harry's not sure if that's meant to be a compliment. It's probably not.
--
Niall's comes into the coffee shops just a few days later. Good thing too because Harry was getting desperate enough to call Ed at the administration office and get him to track down Niall's number.
Niall eyes land on Harry's face and just for a split second, his blue eyes light up. But then his face goes back to the usual mixture of anxiety and discomfort. Harry chooses to ignore it. Instead, he gives his best smirk and bats his eyes really slow, scanning Niall up and down as he approaches the counter. Suddenly, Niall no longer looks uncomfortable but offended.
"Stop eye fucking me, Harry," Niall warns, a harsh edge to his voice. Harry almost chokes on his own spit. Gone is the blushing and bumbling choir boy, replaced by a man with a hard set jaw and fire behind his eyes
"I-ahem- I wasn't," Harry stumbles slightly.
Niall's gives him a once-over, but not at all like the one Harry had given him. This one is one of caution, teeming with hostility.
"Can I just get a chamomile tea and--" Niall starts to order but Harry beats him to it.
"And a chocolate chip muffin?" he finishes with a smug grin.
Niall's eyes soften a little. "Uhm, no actually. Coffee. Two milk."
Harry smiles to himself, pleased, as he prepares the order. He puts a chocolate chip muffin in a bag anyway and hands it to Niall. "On the house," he says with a wink. Niall's jaw twitches, but he doesn't smile. Instead, he takes the order without so much as a thank you and on his way out, drops the bag with the muffin in the trash can.
--
"Do you think he's playing hard to get?" Harry wonders aloud as he and Zayn toss a ball back and forth between themselves. He's draped upside down on his sofa wearing just a pair of boxers and Zayn's on the other end, eyes glued to an episode of Criminal Minds.
"Hmmm?"
"The coffee shop guy. Do you think he's playing hard to get?" Harry repeats, straightening up. His head is starting hurt from the blood rush.
"You're still on that? Thought that would've been long over by now," Zayn says, turning his face towards Harry. Harry just shrugs in reply, not sure what exactly to say.
Zayn narrows his eyes at him, sucking slightly on his bottom lip. He's thinking. That's his thinking face, Harry knows.
"You're not one for much pining, Harry. What's going on?" Zayn finally says the one thing that's been on Harry's mind for well over two weeks now. He's right, Harry doesn't pine. He doesn't pine or chase or sulk. But he is now and he doesn't get it.
Harry shrugs again. He wish he had an answer but he doesn't. What he's feeling its--really foreign.
Zayn sighs, finally turning off the TV and shifting so his whole body faces Harry. "What do you want from him, Harry?"
Harry blinks up at Zayn's bluntness. Zayn's never been the kind to beat around the bush but this...it feels almost crude.
"I--I just want to talk to him. At first anyway," he admits.
"Okay then talk to him," Zayn instructs simply, as if it was as easy as that.
Harry snorts back. "What do you think I've been trying to do this whole time?!" Zayn's gone crazy, finally. Liam's 6am wakeup calls have gotten to his head.
But Zayn's just shaking his head at Harry, smiling pitifully as if he'd just told a very bad joke. "No I mean really talk. No flirting, no advances, no eyefucking. Figure out why he's not interested. Maybe he's seeing someone already. Maybe he's not interested in boys at all." Zayn lifts his eyebrows in question, looking expectantly at Harry.
"I guess it won’t hurt to try," Harry grumbles, although not convinced that this will help this case. But Zayn seems satisfied with that response because he kicks up his heels on the sofa and turns the TV on again, leaving Harry with something to think about.
Harry's never been much of a critic. He just looks at the art, admires its beauty, then moves on. Niall though, fuck, he's really making Harry think.
--
Harry's begins to spend more time at Barbara's. Even when he's not working, he'll try and finish his assignments there, read a few book or just sit next to the large windows with his headphones in and people watch. Barbara raises suspicious eyebrows at him but he just waves back and blows her a kiss. Zayn and Liam meet him there too a couple times, but then Colin gives Liam an extra cookie and draws a heart on his coffee lid and Zayn whisks him out of there before Liam can even utter a grossly oblivious "thanks, love!"
It's on the third day that Niall finally comes back. Harry's not working but instead sitting in a booth that is somewhat hidden from eyesight. Harry sees him come in, watches as his blue gaze scans the area behind the counter, and only when he notices Niall's face slightly fall due to his apparent absence does he call out, "Over here, blondie!"
Niall turns his head and spots him right away. But instead of strolling over, he just rolls his eyes and stays put. Sighing, Harry tries again. "Niall. Would you grant me the pleasure of your company?" He's trying to sound sincere, he really is.
Niall rolls his eyes for a second time and Harry holds his breath, but then he's walking over and Harry's heart starts to flutter a little bit.
Harry grin widens as Niall approaches his booth and soon he's looming over the seated Harry, biting the inside of his cheek. "What, Harry?" Niall's trying to sound annoyed, but it's too forced.
"I have been told that I should just try and talk to you instead of flirting. I didn't realize those were separate things, but I'd like to learn. Would you be my teacher?" Harry smiles again, hoping that his dimples will somehow win over this boy.
Niall eyes Harry suspiciously for a minute, but then his face relaxes and a small smile plays on his lips. "Lesson #1, asking me to be your 'teacher' and then following up with a suggestive smile like that is flirting."
Harry let's out a quick breath of relief and then nods enthusiastically. "Ok, got it. How would I phrase that in a 'just talking' kind of way?"
Niall smile widens. "Well, try a smile that’s not so...cheeky. And instead say 'I am kind of a dick and I'd like to learn how not to be. Can you help?'"
Harry tries to reformulate his mouth in a way so that his smile comes off more genuine. Then he tries again. "I am kind of a dick and I'd like to learn how not to be. Could you please help me?"
Niall starts to giggle and that makes Harry kind of proud.
With another quick breath, Harry pushes his luck one more time. "Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?"
Niall looks down at him, eyes wide and blinking. Then, with a shy smile says, "I would."
--
Okay, so they've decided to be friends. Not boyfriends, not friends with benefits, nothing but just friends. Truthfully, Harry didn't have much say in it.
This is how that conversation went:
NIALL: So then, just talk?
HARRY: That's what I've been ordered to do.
NIALL: Ordered?
HARRY: I have this friend...he says I should just talk and find why you're not interested.
NIALL: Uhm...well I don't really have a reason.
HARRY: So you ARE interested?!
NIALL: No, I didn't say that. I just said I don't have a reason.
HARRY: Alright...but I still want to talk to you. A lot.
NIALL: Why?
HARRY: Dunno, just do. I'll let you know when I figure it out.
Niall: *laughs* Sure, okay. We can talk.
HARRY: ...but you just said you weren't interested.
NIALL: Yeah like in dating or whatever.
HARRY: I still don't get it.
NIALL: *still laughing* Harry, do you know what friends are?
HARRY: Yeah, I have two of those.
NIALL: Two? Well then.
HARRY: What?
NIALL: Nothing, nothing. Well I guess now you have three.
HARRY: No, two. I just saw them before this.
NIALL: *cackling now* Me, Harry. I can...be your friend if you'd like.
HARRY: OH!
NIALL: ......
HARRY: Yes, yes. I would like that very much.
NIALL: Well then, I guess we're friends.
HARRY: So, what do friends do?
NIALL: Talk, hang out, you know, friend stuff.
HARRY: Right...friend stuff.
Zayn and Liam laugh at him when he tells them. "Friends? Harry I don't think you've had 'just a friend' like...ever."
Harry drops his jaw in offense. "That's not true! You guys are my friends," he points out.
"Yeah but you've already fucked Zayn and if you weren't scared of Zayn gouging your eyes out with his bare hands, you'd make a play for me too," Liam says, laughing. The sad thing is, it's probably true.
He plops down on his sofa in defeat. "I have a problem," he admits.
Zayn sits down on the sofa beside him too and softly pets his hair. Harry thinks it’s supposed to be comforting.
Liam sighs above them, rolling his eyes. "Okay first, Zayn stop petting Harry like he's a dog, it's not helping," he orders, and Harry thanks him silently. "Next, we need to come up with a plan."
And so they sit in Harry's apartment all afternoon, teaching him how to act as "just a friend". By five, they have come up with a pretty comprehensive list of dos and don’ts:
DO: smile, ask about his likes and dislikes, make light-hearted jokes (but NOT sexual), treat him sometimes (but not ALL the time), tell him the truth (except about your feelings), compliment him but don't flatter, talk about other relationships and trade advice ("...actually, Harry, don't give your advice.")
DONT: touch him inappropriately, wink, smirk, undress him with your eyes (or actually undress him!), tell him he looks hot/sexy/bangable ("stick with good or nice"), make sexual remarks or innuendos, go into detail about sexual escapades, kiss his hands/cheeks/neck ("your lips can NOT touch his person"), grind on him, and lastly, under no circumstances suggest having or actually have sex with him.
"You got all this, Haz?" Liam asks as Harry scans the list over with his eyes.
Harry tilts his head so he's staring at Liam. He's got these really warm, chocolate brown eyes that always have a way of making Harry feel safe. He trusts Liam, he trusts Liam a lot, so maybe that's why he nods his head and promises to commit the list to memory.
"So when should I text him?" Harry asks just as Zayn and Liam are about to leave. His phone is lying less than a feet away and Niall's number is already programmed in it. His hands itch.
Zayn and Liam share a look, and then Liam says, "Three days. Minimum."
"Can't I just text him now?" Harry whines, anxious.
"No. Three days," Liam repeats. Then, before they step out of his flat, Liam gives Harry one last stern look.
When they're in the elevator, Zayn nudges him and says "You know he's going to crack after one day, right?"
Liam smiles knowingly. "I know. Why do you think I said three?"
--
Harry texts Niall the next day. Liam doesn't have to know.
Hi there, friend! xx
Niall replies with:
LOOL ! Hi, Harry. :)
Harry continues:
So, want to do some of that friend stuff? Like hang out and talk? xx
Niall's response is:
Aha sure! How about coffee on Thursday? I'm done class at 2
Harry smiles at his phone as he taps back an answer.
Sounds perfect! See you then. xx
Harry texts Zayn and Liam right away with a:
HE AGREED TO HANG OUT!!
It's only after he's hit SEND that he realizes he wasn't supposed to text Niall for another two days. When Liam's reply pops up a good five minutes later, Harry checks it with some reluctance:
HA, knew you'd crack! ;) Have fun. And remember to be a "friend."
Harry decides he officially hates that word.
--
His date with Niall was...really nice. Although Liam keeps warning him to not refer to it as a date because he and Niall are just friends and friends don't go on dates. But Harry refers to it as a date in his head anyway because it makes him giddy.
So anyway, the date (or whatever) was at Barbara's. Niall showed up dressed in this grey scoop neck sweater that showed off his collar bones and Harry almost bust a nut right there in the coffee shop.
"Niall! You look...good," Harry says, swallowing the other word that was on his mind.
"Thanks, Harry!" He doesn't compliment back and Harry feels...almost vulnerable. "So anyway, should we get coffee?"
They sit back down with their own drinks, having paid for each separately because Harry is only allowed to treat sometimes and he doesn't want to waste it on a fucking cup of coffee.
Niall starts talking right away, and then talks and talks and talks. Harry's slightly surprised, he expected Niall to be shyer than this, considering how bashful he was usually. But then Harry realised that Niall wasn't as bashful as he was...cautious.
He learns a lot about Niall. He learns that he loves beer and sports.
"You're such a guy!" Harry teases and Niall rolls his eyes as a response.
He plays the guitar religiously. His family is from a small town named Mullingar in Ireland. He has nephew named Theo whom he calls every Sunday. He liked Justin Bieber.
"Justin Bieber?!" Harry gawks in surprise. 21-year old men don't usually admit to liking Justin Bieber on the fly.
"Yeah. Dude's a legend!" And that's all Niall says about that.
Niall also loves to laugh. A lot. At first Harry felt elated at the fact that Niall found him this funny. But then they had a conversation with a kid beside their table and Niall laughed just as much. And it was the same with one of Harry's co-workers who stopped by the table to say hi.
"You laugh a lot. At everything," Harry points out after Becca leaves.
Niall just shrugs, chowing down on another chocolate chip muffin. "Too many people spend too much time worrying too much and laughing too little. So I do it for them."
The thing is, they don't do much. Just talk and drink coffee and talk some more.
But Harry still has so much fun.
When Niall finally gets up and says he has to go, Harry can't help but pout.
"C'mon. Just stay a little longer," he asks (okay, begs).
Niall leans down and tugs on one of Harry's curls. "Sorry, mate. I have a paper due next week and I don't even know what class it's for."
Harry lets Niall go, but he does so reluctantly. Then after grabbing a cherry cheese pastry for Zayn, he heads home too.
As he's hanging up his coat, something falls out of his pocket and onto the floor. It's the "DO’S AND DON’TS" they drew up for him. Harry smiles, wide and almost painful, because its only then he realizes he followed all the rules on the page without even meaning to.
--
They hang out a lot, Harry and Niall. And the more time they spend together, the more Harry doesn't want to be "just friends".
It's frustrating to say the least.
"Well, did you find out why he's not interested?" Zayn asks.
"He says he doesn't have an answer, he just isn't," Harry tells him, pouting.
"Well, fuck."
Yeah. Well, fuck.
It's when they're studying for midterms that something finally changes.
"I want you to meet my friends. Well...one friend in specific." Niall says, breaking the silence they'd been studying in. "You'd really like him, you guys are so similar."
Harry thinks about it. If Niall wants to introduce him to his friends, he must be breaking some ground.
"Sure, sounds fun!" he agrees.
"Why don't you bring along your friends too?" Niall suggests.
"What, all two of them? Sure it won't get too crowded?" Harry jokes.
"We'll manage," Niall plays along, chuckling. Harry smiles back, showing off his dimples
Niall pokes them gently, which drives Harry absolutely crazy. "I like it when you do that," he admits.
"When I poke your dimples?" Niall asks. Harry nods back. "Well then, I won't do it anymore. Don't need you liking me now," he says jokingly, winking at Harry.
Too late.
--
They decide to meet at the campus bar at 9pm. Liam and Zayn both agree to come along, not that that surprised Harry. He's pretty sure he's the only friend they have left since they started dating each other.
They're drinking, which worries Harry a little. Because when he's drunk he's...honest. And handsy. And really fucking horny.
And what if Niall's friend doesn't like him? And then convinces Niall that Harry is too flirty or too sombre or too...tall? Shit, this was a bad idea.
He leaves his house too early, all fidgety and restless.
He's at the pub at 8:55. Stalling so he doesn't look eager and desperate (even though he is), he goes to the bathroom. He checks his hair, armpits, teeth, and they're all okay.
8:57. Ugh.
Harry decides three minutes early doesn't look that desperate. He finds a booth and slips into it, texting a "hurry up!" to Liam and Zayn.
9:04. Liam and Zayn come stumbling in, faces red and hair disheveled. "Sorry. We got...distracted," Liam giggles.
Harry's too anxious to care. "He's late. Maybe they're not coming? Yeah probably, we should just leave," Harry says to no one in particular, chewing on his bottom lip.
But just then, a blonde head comes in through the door and Harry can breathe again because yes, it's Niall. He's talking animatedly to a brunette beside him, a brunette that looks vaguely familiar but Harry can't quite place.
"NIALL!" he shouts, waving over to them. Niall catches Harry's eye and starts heading over, smiling.
But then suddenly Liam grasps his outstretched hand with a manic look in his eyes and hisses, "Wait, Niall is your coffee shop boy?!"
Harry, bewildered with Liam's response, sputters out, "Yeah?"
Liam and Zayn share a look and god knows what that means. "Harry, I don't think--" Zayn starts to say but shuts up as soon as Niall gets within ear shot.
"Niall, Louis! Long time no talk," Liam greets.
Harry's confused. "Wait, you guys know each other?" But his words fall on deaf ears.
Instead, both Niall and his brunette friend smile down at them. "Zayn. Liam," he nods to each of them respectively. "Harry you of course already know Louis."
He doesn't. He scans the brunette's face and it looks familiar, sure, but he doesn't particularly know Louis. And apparently Niall expected him to.
"Yeah, of course. Hey Louis," he says, trying to smile.
Louis smiles back, but it's...absent. Or apathetic. Empty.
Everyone just kind of stares at each other for a while, an awkward smile on everyone's face except Niall’s. His face is lighten up, like Christmas came early or something.
"Well then, shuffle over!" he says, scooting onto the bench that Harry is specifically not on. Louis begrudgingly sits down beside Harry, his face a mix of discomfort and rage. His blue eyes are burning holes into Niall's head and Harry has never been this confused in his life.
"First round's on me," Niall chirps happily as he waves a waitress over.
Thank god, Harry secretly thinks, alcohol has to make this night less awkward.
--
Okay, it was actually kind of fun. Everyone starts loosening up after a few rounds, talking about classes and nightmare professors.
Louis, who Harry definitely thought had something shoved up his arse, is actually kind of funny. Apparently he and Niall have been best mates ever since they became roommates freshman year. He also has a lot of things in common with Harry which, for some reason, Niall keeps pointing out:
"Oh Louis LOVES Coldplay too!"
"Louis was just saying how good Love Actually was the other day."
"Louis' obsessed with FRIENDS too. His favourite is Joey."
"Oh yeah? Mine's Ross--" Harry starts to mention but before he can finish, Niall jumps in with "Oh fuck I meant Ross. Yeah, Louis loves Ross..."
Harry reckons it's a good thing he shares so many interests with Niall's best friend, maybe that will help persuade him towards a proper date.
Niall explodes in laughter at something Liam says that's not even supposed to be funny, and Zayn just shakes his head and says, "you haven't changed a bit."
That's another thing. Apparently Zayn and Liam already knew Niall and Louis. In fact, they were friends.
Harry also notices that Liam and Zayn spend the whole night sharing looks and texting (probably each other).
Around 11, after Niall sits down having grabbed one more round for everyone, he says, "The pub is closing soon. But I'm having too much fun to leave. You guys want to go clubbing? A friend of mine is DJ’ing for Synergy tonight."
Liam and Zayn look at each other, and Harry expects them to say no from the way they've been acting all night but instead Liam says, "We're in!"
Harry nods too, as if there was a question about it. Louis' the only one that looks slightly reluctant, but then Niall smiles at him until he agrees too.
"Wooo. Party time," Niall whoops loudly, then forces the entire group to chug their beers. "No time to waste."
--
"Harry, Zayn and I will share a cab," Liam decides as soon as they're outside. Harry throws an unpleasant look his way. He wanted to share with Niall. But Liam ignores him. "Synergy is the one next to the Strada, right? On Crestwing?"
Harry decides he's going to give him an ear full once they're inside the cab. But as soon as they get in, Zayn's talking.
"Harry...this thing with Niall, it might not be what you think," he says.
"What do you mean?" Harry asks. "AND. AND. What the fuck, how do you know Niall?!"
Zayn and Liam look at each other again and Harry's had it. "Okay. All you two have been doing the entire night is trading looks and texting each other. If you don't tell me what the fuck is going on right now, I'm going take that very compromising picture that I found of you two and post is all over Facebook. AND tag your moms in it."
Liam sighs. "We were going to tell you Harry. That's why I wanted to share a cab," he explains.
Harry just waits.
"Okay. I guess we should tell you how we know Niall and Louis then," Zayn starts. "Liam met them during orientation week and they were friends. And then after we started dating I met them through Liam. And in our defense, you never really told us Niall's name..."
"I just didn't think that you'd know who I was talking about.." Harry defends.
"I know, I know! We should've asked, you should've told...whatever it doesn't matter," Liam neutralizes. "But that's not the issue."
"Okay," Harry says slowly. He didn't even know there was an issue.
"Do you remember that frat party we went to about a year ago? It was the one with the ball pit that Liam threw up in, and then you had to call Gemma to drive us home because we had no idea where the fuck we were?" Zayn asks him.
He sort of remembers. He was really drunk. And probably high. But he remembers canon balling into a box of colourful balls and getting yelled at by Gemma for throwing up in her car. "Yeah, sort of."
Liam blows up his cheeks and looks at Zayn, who then lets out a huge sigh and says, "You hooked up with Louis at that party."
"What?!" Harry sputters. "No I didn't."
"Yeah mate, you did. I walked in on you two in the bathroom," Liam discloses, nodding solemnly.
Harry remembers the bathroom. It had pale yellow walls and a deep blue Finding Nemo shower curtain. He remembers because the guy he was kissing, his eyes were weirdly the exact same colour as that shower curtain.
Then. "Oh shit," he curses. It was Louis. "Shit shit shit shit shit."
Liam and Zayn just watch him, waiting for all the gears in his head to click in place.
"That's why Niall expected me to know Louis." He gets two nods. "And that's why Niall won't go out with me." Double nods again. "Because Louis is his best friend and he's still hung up on me?"
He doesn't get any nods this time. "Well...it's a little more complicated," Liam tells him
Great.
"So yeah, pretty much the reason why Niall won't go out out with you is because of Louis. BUT Louis isn't really hung up on you. At all." Zayn thinks he's explaining but Harry doesn't get one bit.
He continues, thankfully. "Niall's very much a lad. A bro's bro and all that. He would never date someone who his best friend has liked, even if it was ages ago for a very brief while."
Then, Liam jumps in. "At first we were confused as to why he was talking to you at all. But then, during dinner, I don't know if you noticed but Niall kept pointing out how similar you and Louis are?"
Harry nods vigorously. "Yeah, yeah. Actually, the whole reason tonight even happened was because the Niall wanted me to meet his friend because he thought we'd get along so well."
Zayn and Liam look at each other and nod. "Yeah. So this is what we think: Niall is trying to set you up with Louis," Liam confesses.
"What?" Harry sputters for a second time. "Why? I thought you said Louis was over it?"
"Louis is. We're not entirely sure Niall is, though," Zayn tells him calmly, as if anything they're saying right now makes even a fraction of sense.
"Zayn, Liam, I love you guys but if you don't tell me what the fuck you guys are talking right now about I'm going to jump out of the taxi," Harry warns.
Liam snorts even though it's not supposed to be funny. "We think that Niall does like you. But, he doesn't want to betray Louis or whatever. So he's trying to set you guys up to one, get over his guilt and two, to get over you."
Harry doesn't really hear anything except, "you guys think he likes me?"
Zayn rolls his eyes and shakes Harry with his shoulders. "That's all you got from that?"
Harry shakes Zayn's hands off his shoulders. "Look, it's fine. I'll talk to Louis and we'll get all this sorted. Don't worry."
Liam grimaces at this instead of the smile that Harry had actually expected. "I don't think that Louis will be all too keen on setting you up with his best friend, especially with how you treated him."
"Treated him? We hooked up at a party, that's it. What else is there?" Harry grumbles. Some people are so sensitive.
"Actually, you gave him the wrong number and then when he came up to you the next day you completely ignored him..." Liam tells him.
"I was--really...drunk," he tries lamely.
Liam raises his eyebrow at him and Zayn just shakes his head.
Sighing, he admits. "I was kind of a dick too. I'll apologise."
They both smile a pitiful smile at him, not making him feel any better. "Good luck, Haz."
"Guys, I really like him. Niall, I mean," he confesses, trying to hide his face in the shade so they don't see him blushing.
"Yeah, we know."
--
The first thing Harry does when he gets out of the cab is run to Louis. "Hey, can we talk?" he asks him.
Niall is beside him, smiling and nodding encouragingly. "Go on, Louis!" He pushes Louis into Harry, which earns him a scowl from both of them. But he waves it off as nothing and walks over to Liam and Zayn instead.
"Hey so--" Harry starts to say as they walk away from the group.
"Listen, Harry. I'm not interested anymore. I don't know what you told Niall or what he's trying to do but me and you, we're never going to happen," Louis snaps, an annoyed expression on his face.
Harry's taken aback slightly but he would be lying if he said he hadn't expected some kind of backlash. "Look, Louis, I'm really sorry about what happened last year between us. I was so so drunk at that party and truth be told, I didn't even remember you until Liam and Zayn told me about it in the cab. And I know that's definitely not what you want to hear but it's the truth. I didn't know I gave you the wrong number and I truly didn't know who you were when you came up to be me the next day. I was a dick, still kind of am, but I really am very sorry."
Louis' face softens just a bit. "It's okay, I guess. I've had times where I've been too drunk to remember too. I mean, it doesn't feel good to hear it, but I get it. Thanks Harry, for apologising."
Louis starts to walk away, back to the group, but Harry holds him in place by the shoulder. "Wait, there's more."
The other brunette looks at him and sighs, eyes filled with some pity. "I really meant what I said Harry, I'm truly not interested. I'm sorry."
Harry chuckles slightly because of course, what Louis thinks makes sense. "No, it's about Niall. I'm interested in Niall."
Louis laughs loudly which lets Harry breathe just a little bit. But that doesn't last for long. "You just told me that you don't remember the people you hook up with, admitted you were a dick and still kind of are, and you still expect me to set you up with my best friend? Mate, no. Like hell to the fucking no."
Fuck.
"It's not like that, I swear, it's not. I've never really...liked anyone, Louis. But I like Niall. I like him a lot," he admits for the second time that night. And with each passing confession, he realises how true it is.
"I...don't know, Harry. I don't want to see Niall hurt," Louis tells him, pursing his lips.
"And I won’t hurt him. If I do, you have my permission to dig a grave and bury me in it. In fact, I'll even help you dig," Harry promises, anguish leaking into his voice.
And Harry thinks Louis sees it, too. He sees the sincerity, the desperation. And maybe that's why he agrees. "Okay. But only because I think--no wait, I know. Only because I know he likes you."
Harry finally lets out a breath. "Okay, let's go talk to him."
"No," Louis commands. Harry sighs. He knew it was too good to be true. "Wipe that tortured look off your face, Harold. I meant 'no' as in talking to him won’t help. He'll deny that he likes you, leave and then never hang out with you again because that's just the fucked up kind of good person he is."
"Okay then what do you suggest we do?" Harry huffs back. This has been a really long fucking night and all he just wants to do is kiss Niall.
"Play it cool. He's going to get drunk, I know it. Dance with him, talk to him and soon enough, he'll admit his feelings to you without you even having to ask. And then we'll talk to him," Louis spells out for Harry. Harry nods along, agreeing to the plan because he's ready to try just about anything. And plus, Louis is Niall's best friend, he's gotta know how he works.
When they walk back to the group Niall's smiling; but now that Harry really knows what’s going on, it looks forced. Niall's jealous and it makes Harry happy, even though that's probably so wrong.
"Hey lovebirds," he whistles. Louis rolls his eyes at Harry. "C'mon, my friend's starting his set soon."
Being friends with the DJ has perks apparently. And so does being friends with friends of the DJ. They get to cut the cue and have their covers waved.
"Shots," Louis demands loudly, winking at Harry. Harry feels a little sleazy, getting Niall drunk like this.
"Don't worry. He's not going to do anything he doesn't want to," Louis whispers to him after he notices Harry's discomfort.
"YAS, SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS!" Niall is shouting, his face already red. Harry wonders if he really needs to get anymore drunk. Himself on the other hand, he's going to need some liquid courage.
--
Three rounds of shots (five for Harry but no one has to know) and a can of beer later, Niall's stumbling and laughing and then stumbling some more.
"Harryyy," he slurs. "This is so much fun. We need to do this more. We should hang out more."
Harry smiles fondly at the blond mess in front of him. "Okay. Let's get you some water, blondie," he tells Niall's, wrapping an arm around his waist and guiding him back to the bar.
"Water and another beer, please," he orders, sliding a fiver to the bartender.
"Water? Why are you drinking water Harry?" Niall asks.
"Oh no no. I'm drinking the beer. You're having the water, sweetheart," he laughs, handing the cup over to Niall. He stares at it in disdain.
"Just drink it, you'll feel better. Trust me," Harry tells him.
"I do trust you. I don't know why but I do," Niall hiccups and thankfully chugs down the water. "Okay, let's go dance now. We have to find Louis so you guys can dance together."
Harry takes a deep breath. Okay, it's now or never, Styles. "Hey why don't we dance for a little bit. Louis' off somewhere doing his own thing."
Niall blue eyes flit to him. "Us?" he asks, as if that's a completely foreign concept. Harry nods. "Okay, yeah sure. But when Louis comes back you're all his."
They both stumble to the dance floor, Harry finally feeling those shots. The music good. "Your friend the DJ? He's good," Harry tries to shout over the loud music. Niall just nods and smiles back.
Niall's dancing a like a feet away from him and suddenly Harry doesn't like that. He needs to touch Niall, hold him.
And so he does. He wraps his long arms around Niall's slender waist, pulling him right against his chest. "Okay?" he asks. His voice has dropped a few octaves, it’s raspier.
Niall nods, a soft "yeah" leaving his lips to let Harry know it’s okay. He melts into Harry and Harry pulls him in tighter. Niall's ass is lined up right against Harry's cock and he has to take in slow breaths.
Cautiously, he presses his lips into the back of Niall's neck and Niall lets out a choked groan. He continues, pressing light kisses up Niall's neck and along his jaw line. Niall response by pressing further into Harry, swaying his hips to the music and grinding down greedily.
It's when Harry kisses the spot between Niall's neck and ear and Niall's lets out a low moan that Harry can't take it anymore.
He spins Niall around by the waist and plants a firm but sweet kiss on his lips. When he pulls away, Niall's looking up at him with his glittering blue eyes that are stretched wide.
"Louis," he breathes and he's out of Harry's arms before he can even start explaining.
"Niall, wait," he says, running after the blonde as he tries to push through the crowd on the dance floor. "Louis knows. It's okay. Niall!"
Niall runs into Louis in front of the bathroom. "Louis I'm so sorry! I--I don't know what happened I just--" he's stammering.
Harry finally catches up to them and Louis smiles, knowingly. "Niall. It's okay. Harry and I talked about it already."
Niall looks between the two of them. "You talked about it?"
"Niall, I know how much you like Harry. I can tell by the way you talk about him. And you know he likes you too, although you conveniently forgot to mention that part," Louis scolds him lightly.
"But you and Harry--" Niall tries to say but Louis cuts him off.
"Happened ages ago. And neither of us feel anything for each other. So stop trying to be the good guy all the time and go be the happy guy for once," Louis orders. His blue eyes twinkle at Niall, full of fondness and--oh.
Niall looks over at Harry, smiling. "Remember that date you asked me on like decades ago? I would love to take you up on that offer if it’s still available."
"It'll be available till the day I die, Niall Horan," Harry admits. He's happy, so fucking happy.
"Now kiss you fools!" Louis orders and they do. It's short and innocent and just enough for now.
Harry walks over to Louis after Niall goes to tell Zayn and Liam. "Thank you," he says.
Louis just shrugs. "Anytime."
Taking a deep breath, Harry says, "So you love him."
Surprisingly, Louis doesn't deny it. "Yeah well. When it's not meant to happen it's not meant to happen," he shrugs.
And as much as Harry likes to think he's an unselfish person, he isn't. Because he sees Louis, the way he looks at Niall, and if he was a better human being he'd probably would leave them alone to deal with it. But he's not and he likes Niall. He likes Niall so much it hurts. So he won't walk away, he can't.
"Hey, don't worry. I can take care of myself," Louis reassures. And who is Harry to assume that he can't? So he does what he knows, he takes care of himself; and now hopefully Niall too.
--
Drunk and exhausted, they all stumble out the club at 2am and finally inhale some air that doesn’t taste like B.O and cologne.
Liam is holding Zayn up, who had about four too many drinks and threw up all over dance floor. It's safe to sat that they're never welcome as Synergy ever again.
“Well, gotta get this mess home,” Liam says, his arms wrapped tightly around Zayn’s waist so he doesn’t fall face first into the concrete.
“You guys live on Abbot, right?” Louis asks Liam and Liam nods. “Great, we can share a taxi. I’m just on Lisle.”
He waves down a taxi right away, opening the door for Liam to shove Zayn in. “Wait don’t you live with—“ Liam starts to say as he’s propping Zayn up but he doesn’t get to finish because he’s pushed into the car by Louis who jumps in soon after.
Harry can hear a fading “bye!” as they pull away from the curb and then it’s just him and Niall.
Then Harry remembers something. “Wait, didn’t you say you and Louis share a flat?”
Niall’s smiles at him shyly, biting the inside of his lower lip. “Yeah.”
And Harry gets the hint, he does. But, “can we take it a little…slow?” he asks. That feels weird coming from him.
It’s not that he doesn’t want Niall, god fucking no that’s not it at all. He just…wants it to be right. And drunk at 2am in the morning while smelling like fifty other people doesn’t feel right.
“Does that mean I can’t kiss you?” Niall pouts, walking right up to Harry and pressing their chests together.
Not even half a second after that sentence leaves his mouth, Harry has his arms around Niall hips and his lips on Niall’s mouth.
He deepens the kiss very quick. He’s hungry and greedy and all he wants is Niall. Niall’s arms snake up around his shoulders and his fingers tangle themselves in Harry’s curls. Fuck. Tongues wrestles, lips are bit, and Harry feels like his body is on fire.
They break apart, both panting and gasping for air. One look at Niall’s blown pupils and Harry’s shoving him into the nearest taxi and yelling his address at the driver. Harry sits as far away from Niall in the car as possible, scared that just one touch will push him over the edge and he’ll rip Niall’s clothes off right there.
He look over at Niall and he’s just staring at Harry, his breathing slow and heavy. Harry’s heart is pounding against his rib cage and he keeps rubbing his palms against his thighs so they stay dry.
Why the fuck is this taxi ride so goddamn long?
Finally, finally¸ they pull up to the curb beside Harry’s building and he just throws some money at the taxi driver, grabs Niall’s hand and pulls him out of the cab.
They don’t say anything to each other the whole elevator ride up.
Harry fumbles for his keys once they’re outside his flat, but his hands are so sweaty that he can’t hold them properly. Niall just grabs the keys out of his hands and unlocks the door in one swift motion.
They’re in his flat.
Not even a second after the door clicks shut, Harry is on Niall. They’re kissing and feeling and biting and sucking and Harry doesn’t even know which way is up anymore.
He’s got Niall pushed up against the wall. Then Niall’s pressing desperate kisses along his jaw. Then he’s got Niall up on his kitchen counter.
They’re goddamn everywhere.
Harry can feel Niall’s semi against his thigh and he grinds down so Niall can feel him too. Feel how much Harry wants him.
“Yeah. Yeah,” Niall chokes, throwing his head back and letting Harry suck a lovebite on his skin.
Harry runs his fingers along the top of Niall’s jeans, his lips back on Niall’s as he slowly slides his hand up his torso and gently flicks his nipple. Niall moans into Harry’s mouth and Harry’s erection is almost painful now.
“Can I?” Harry asks, tugging at Niall’s t-shirt. Niall smiles into their kiss, pulling back for just a second.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he says cheekily, winking.
Fuck, Harry is so so gone. “You little shit.”
He throws off his shirt first, then pulls Nialls’ over his shoulder and onto the floor. He’s beautifully pale, Niall is. Like a porcelain doll.
“You look too delicate,” Harry whispers in Niall’s ear and he can hear Niall chuckle.
“Well I’m not. I’m rough and filthy and you better treat me like it too because otherwise this won’t work.”
Harry doesn’t argue with that.
And then suddenly, Niall is on his knees.
“Want you down my throat. I wanna choke on you,” Niall tells him, looking up at him through his lashes.
Holy fuck. Harry’s all too hot, burning up as Niall looks at him with those darkened eyes. He nods vigorously and starts working on his belt. Niall starts to palm Harry crotch, grabbing his cock over his jeans and squeezing firmly.
“Okay, okay,” Harry gasps, not able to take this teasing one bit. “Just take it off.”
Niall tucks his hands underneath the top of his boxers, tugging so his jeans and boxers both come down at once.
He watches his cock comes free, the tip already leaking and Niall looks at it so hungrily that it drives him insane.
“Niall, please,” Harry whines, the tips of his fingertips and toes on fire at the scene in front of him right now. Finally, finally Niall's lips touch Harry. He starts by licking the tip slowly and Harry can't help but inhale sharply. Then Niall wraps his mouth around his head and just fucking sucks. Niall falls into a rhythm, wrapping his hand around Harry’s base, and he can’t help the sinful sounds escaping his mouth. Harry locks his fingers in Niall’s hair, tugging and pulling desperately.
Niall tries to take as much of Harry into his mouth as possible and Harry just—enjoys it.
“Yeah, Niall. God yes,” Harry moans as his toes curl from the waves of pleasure he’s feeling. Harry’s been given a lot of blow jobs, and even though Niall doesn’t seem as experienced as a lot of the other people he’s been with, Niall’s method is raw and vulgar and it’s the best one Harry’s ever gotten.
Soon enough, a familiar feeling builds in the pit of Harry’s stomach and he knows he’s about to come.
“Niall I—I’m gonna come,” he pants. But Niall doesn’t move. Instead, he looks at Harry through his lashes and then the little fucker puts his arms behind his back.
Harry is going to lose it.
“Are you sure?” he chokes out and Niall winks. It’s always the ones that look the most innocent…
“Fuck, you can’t be so good at this,” Harry whines as he slowly thrusts into Niall’s mouth.
He grabs Niall’s hair, using it to guide his mouth. His cocks hits the back of Niall’s throat and he gags a little bit, but doesn’t pull away and fuck, Harry loves it.
“Fuck—Ni. This—you’re so good for me,” he breathes, his thrusts speeding up and become sloppier as he gets more desperate. But Niall stays put, taking in all that Harry gives him.
He speeds up a lot and Harry’s spit mixed with Niall’s cum makes filthy sounds against Harry’s lips. Harry wants to make it his fuckin ringtone.
And then it hits him. “I’m coming,” he warns, but Niall’s mouth stays put. Waves of pleasure roll though Harry’s body and all he sees is white.
Harry comes down Niall’s throat, and Niall swallows almost all of it, except the bit he leaves on his tongue as he slides up to kiss Harry.
"That was okay?” Niall asks and Harry, panting, rolls his eyes at him.
Niall’s hair is stood up in all directions thanks to Harry’s fingers. His face is flushed and his lips wet with Harry’s cum. He looks so fucking sexy.
“Okay. Your turn. What do you want?” Harry asks with a burning desire to watch Niall as an orgasm ripples through him.
Niall smiles shyly at him and Harry wants to laugh because this was the same boy that swallowed every last drop of Harry’s cum less than a minute ago. “What do you want?”
Harry chuckles. “I already had my turn.”
Niall shrugs back. “I mean what do you want to do to me?” There is a wicked glint in his eye that makes Harry swallows thickly.
“Anything?” Harry asks.
“Anything.”
He knows exactly what he wants.
“I want to watch you touch yourself. I want to watch you get off by using nothing but your own hands,” Harry whispers, his voice husky.
Niall’s eyes widen just a bit and his neck flushes red. But he nods. “Okay. That’s—more than okay.”
Harry helps Niall out of his jeans and boxers, watching as Niall’s cock rises up, almost as if it’s greeting Harry. Harry reckons it sort of is.
Harry licks his palms as he looks Niall right in the eye. “I’ll start you off, then you take over. Okay?” Niall nods.
He wraps his hand around Niall, slowly moving his hand up and down the shaft.
“Feels good, Harry. Your hands—“ he breathes, eyes not leaving Harry’s for a second.
“Yeah? Like it when I touch you like this?” Harry teases, running his thumb over the head and all Niall can manage is a nod.
Niall’s tip starts leaking and Harry lathers his cock up with the pre-cum. Then, just when Niall starts to moan, he lets go.
“Your turn. Let me watch you play with yourself,” he growls, knotting his fingers in Niall’s hair and pulling his head back so they’re looking at each other right in the eye. “Does it feel good, Niall?”
“Yeah feels—feels so good, Harry,” Niall whimpers, his hand moving up and down his own cock.
Harry smiles because he knows he’s got him. “What did you think when you first saw me?” he asks because he knows he’ll get the truth right now.
“I thought you were so fuck—fucking hot” he chokes out and Harry tightens the fingers in Niall’s hair.
“You’re filthy, you know that? Fucking your own hand like that?” Harry taunts playfully. “Filthy filthy boy.”
Niall lets out a gasp, his blue eyes drilling into Harry’s as Harry presses Niall right up against the wall again, chest to chest.
“I’m—“ Niall starts but Harry beats him to it.
“Come? You’re going to make yourself come?” Harry growls. Niall nods vigorously, closing his eyes.
“No. Don’t close your eyes. I want you to look me right in the eye as you come all over both of us. Don’t you dare close your eyes Niall Horan.”
His blue eyes look straight into Harry’s green once again. Harry nods, almost granting him permission to come.
And then “Fuck ah Harry I’m—I’m coming. Harry fuck.”
Niall’s eyes don’t leave Harry’s for a second as his orgasm rolls through his body. Harry just watches and nods as Niall comes all over both their stomachs.
When it’s over, Harry presses a soft kiss onto Niall’s lips and then finally Niall closes his eyes.
“You were so good for me, baby. You were amazing,” Harry coos as he kisses Niall’s shoulder.
Niall smiles a blissful, satisfied smile and then says, “Harry Styles you son of a bitch.”
--
Harry’s never been the one to pay much attention to people. He notices them sure, but he’s never really paid attention to them. But it’s different with Niall. With Niall it’s like he can’t do anything but pay attention. Pay attention to the smatter of freckles that dust his nose. Pay attention to the slightest hint of a gold ring around his pale blue eyes. Pay attention to the tiniest hint of hair resting on his upper lip.
It makes Harry’s heart hammer against his chest. And not in a way that makes him want to push Niall up against a wall and take him right there, but in a way that makes him want to hold his hand while they’re at the grocery store or share kisses at the top of a ferris wheel.
It scares Harry, the way he feels. No, it scares him how much he feels. Sometimes he feels like his heart has reached its maximum capacity and that it’s swelling and swelling and reaching a point where it might explode at any minute.
Sometimes he thinks he should just break it off. That it would be easier on his swelling heart. But then the thought of never kissing Niall crosses his mind. The thought of never getting to hold him again, of not getting to hear his beautiful laugh ringing throughout his flat. And that fucking terrifies him.
“My heart can fucking explode and even then I will never stop loving you,” he thinks to himself as he watches Niall strum his guitar across the sofa, eyebrows scrunched together as he hums out a tune and scrawls something into his notebook.
The afternoon sun is pouring through Harry’s living room window, lighting up Niall’s gold hair and surrounding him with a kind of glow that Harry thought movies faked. But it’s happening and it’s real and Niall glows and Harry just wants to go to the roof and scream at the top of his lungs: “I love you.”
Niall’s head jerks up, his blue gaze penetrating Harry. “What?”
Harry’s stomach knots. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Wait no, he had. He had meant to say it out loud.
“I love you,” he says again, and it feels like a heavy rock has been lifted of his chest. “I fucking love you, Niall Horan.”
An amazing feeling of euphoria washes over him, and he realizes that he doesn’t even care if Niall says it back. He loves Niall and he needs him to know that. He needs the whole god damn universe to know it.
Niall blinks back at him, pen still hanging halfway in the air. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it again. Harry can see the internal conflict going on behind his eyes.
He scooches closer to Niall, smiling softly at him. “It’s okay, you don’t need to say it back. I just--I really needed you to know. I needed you to know and now that you do, it’s enough for me.”
Niall’s face softens and he moves closer to Harry too. “I-I think I love you too,” he finally breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.
It turns out that Harry does care because his heart lights up. It lights up and sends flashes to every part of his body. And even though it’s hesitant, even though it’s tentative, it’s still there and that’s more than enough.
“Think?” he jokes, a slight strain to his voice. Niall’s face falls and Harry wants to take it back immediately.
No, it’s not what you think. I’m not upset about your reluctance! I’m actually really fucking happy. I’m so happy that you might feel even a fraction of what I feel for you that it’s making my chest tight. That’s what Harry wants to say, but he doesn’t.
“I’m scared, Harry,” Niall finally admits, his eyes never leaving Harry’s face for a minute. “I really like you. Fucking hell, I love you but I’m really really scared. I--like you know when you make chocolate chip pancakes in your boxers while singing John Mayer? I look at you and I think ‘I couldn’t possibly love this boy more than I do right now’. But then you come home from the coffee shop smelling like pastries and snuggle up next to me on the couch to watch Sherlock and I think, ‘No, I couldn’t possibly love this boy more than I do right now’. But it just never stops. I just keep loving you more and more and I don’t want it to stop. But I'm scared that if I don’t stop I’m, I don’t know, I feel like I’m going to explode or something.”
Niall’s eyes are so frantic and his cheeks so red that Harry can help but chuckle.
An offended look crosses his pale face. “What?”
“Give me your hand,” Harry says.
“Why?” he’s asking, but his left hand is already in Harry’s before the word is even fully out.
Harry looks at him, looks at this beautiful, beautiful boy that somehow ended up with a gangly mess like him. Then he takes this boy’s hand and places it right over his heart. His heart that’s beating soft and rhythmically, but oh so goddamn fast.
Then he waits, waits for Niall to feel what he’s feeling. An understanding settles on Niall’s face after a few moments, a smile tugging on his lips.
“I’m scared too,” Harry tells him.
Niall’s grinning now, a laugh escaping his lips. “Are we in a horror movie or are we in love?”
Harry joins in his laughter, bringing up his other hand to cover both his and Niall’s. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
---
There's a painting hanging above Harry's bed. It's one of Niall laughing, a side profile. His hands are on his knees and he's slightly bent over, mouth wide open. There is a splash of yellow and orange tints behind him, giving the otherwise black and white painting a warm and friendly ambiance. Zayn gave it to Harry as a birthday gift. The colour splash is supposed to show Niall's personality, genuine and bright, although Zayn never told Harry that. He figured it out himself. Niall didn't want it above the bed, he's too humble for that, but Harry fought for it and won.
Now, when Harry gets a text from Niall telling him to come home early or when he wakes up with Niall's legs thrown over his torso, he thinks about the painting. He's committed it to memory; knows every line, every shade, every brush stroke.
Maybe people are like paintings. Maybe they're not. Harry's not so sure anymore. There is one this he is sure of though: Niall is his favourite one.
THE END
--