Chapter Text
Harry didn’t want to stay in that day because sitting in his room for the eleventh day that month and thinking about the boy that fucked his brains out and stole his credit card made him hate the feeling of his skin. And sitting in his room and thinking about the boy that left him for his best friend two days prior to that made him hate the beating of his heart. The autumn breeze did nothing for him; he knew he looked awful enough for people to stare. The bags under his eyes felt so damn heavy and his nose was red and stuffy and there was a spot near his left collarbone that was itchy and sore and it kept nagging the back of his mind. He could only hope that the scarf around his neck hid enough of him.
He liked to kid himself, say that he was getting better, moving on. And, yeah, he liked to think so. Who was to say he was wrong? But who was to say he was right, he thinks, because he was stupid enough to let those pretty boys into his heart in the first place.
Walking around the streets wasn’t so bad, he thought, because at least out here Harry could breathe. He wasn’t conscious of where he was going or what he was looking at, but it was nice. Keep your eyes on the floor and breathe, and that’s what he did. The sounds of distant chatter and cars honking and store bells ringing were constant enough for him to get lost in it, but not loud enough for himself to miss the beautiful tragedy across the street.
Everything happened at once - a boy tumbled, his coffee splashed, his book bag spilled, and the few that passed by walked a circle around it all. “Someone help him,” Harry whispered, and saying it out loud made everything real. Harry stepped into the moving traffic and he could see in his peripherals cars speeding to a stop before they destroyed his entire being and there was this faint ringing in his ears. At this point, he could care less about what happened to him. He thought, if he got hit now, at least one of the two of boys would be out of their misery. And if he somehow made it through, made he could help the other out of his. With each step, he saw clearer that the boy was on the verge of crying and, of course, he was. Then he was five feet away and he could see red tear streaks on the top of his cheeks, then two feet when he realized the boy was sadder than he initially thought.
The boy had already started slowly picking up his things and stuffing them messily back into his shoulder bag, one that was worn and almost as sad looking as its owner. So Harry bent down and joined and as he stood back up after gathering the last of the things, his chest was centimeters away from another’s.
“Here,” he said as he took a step back and handed the things over because he needed to say something. He acted impulsively, yes, but in the state he’s been in no one would’ve guessed for him to be doing this. The blonde boy slowly reached up but Harry could see his hands trembling and he wanted to fall apart because he thought he was sad.
“Thanks, uh,”
“Harry.”
“Harry,” the boy repeated almost immediately.
“And you?” The boy looked into his eyes suddenly and searched for something, like the amount of regret he might feel if he told Harry his name. Harry tried to show him none.
“It’s Niall,” he mumbled, but never looked away - still searching maybe.
“Niall,” Niall Niall Niall. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question and he hated himself for asking because he knows the answer, but what he got was a little different.
“Sometimes,” Niall answered. And that’s when Harry tried to imagine Niall’s face with a smile and his lips not so chapped and his eyes a little brighter if that was any more possible, and maybe that image of a happier Niall made him want to stay for those sometimes. He’d never tell.
“You’ve got coffee all over your shirt, and no jacket on.” Niall opened his mouth to say something along the line of it doesn’t really bother me, but Harry was already taking off his second outer coat and pushing it straight into Niall’s chest. He didn’t shove it hard, but Niall still lost all his breathe. “Here,” Harry insisted again, and what was the other boy to do but grab it and drop his shoulder bag with a thud so he could put it on because he was freezing and a pretty boy didn’t want that.
They exchanged numbers that day, so that Niall could return the coat and Harry could see him again. Harry had a history of pretty boys that let him down and crushed his heart, but to see Niall smash his heart to smithereens was something he couldn’t say no to. And if you asked either boys if this beautiful tragedy was anything as beautiful as Romeo & Juliet, Harry would’ve said it’s even prettier and Niall would’ve said he was no beautiful Juliet.
-
The first time Harry’s invited to Niall’s apartment it’s a few weeks after the incident, they’ve met up a couple times, he’d gotten his coat back, and it goes a little like this.
“You’re apartment smells like you,” is the first thing that slips through his mouth. He didn’t mean for that to happen and he prays to any god that’s listening that Niall doesn’t question how Harry knows what he smells like.
“And what’s that like?”
“You tell me.” They’ve gotten to a more comfortable phase with each other. Teasing and silly banter coming more from Harry’s side, but Niall hasn’t rejected him just yet so Harry takes that as a win. And sometimes Harry catches these little, secret smiles Niall has when they’re both being clever with each other, and that’s the biggest win he could’ve asked for because those sometimes he promised he’d stay for are on their way.
“Vanilla Lavender, it’s the candles in my room,” and that’s the end of that. But not really because Harry goes home that night and orders three Vanilla Lavender candles from the candle shop in town because the Cedar Wood Cinnamon he’s been burning through wasn’t doing it for him anymore.
-
The seventeenth time Harry’s invited to Niall’s apartment they’ve already confessed they’re liking towards each other during the ninth visit, they’ve decided to take things slow on the tenth, they have sex on the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth, and they just had sex again for the umpteenth time, and it goes like this.
“You’re good,” Harry mumbled.
“What was that?”
“You’re so good to me.” Niall had his head tucked into Harry’s neck and his arm curled over Harry’s chest, hand fisted over Harry’s fast-beating heart, and Harry could smell Niall’s breathe, and it kind-of smelled like Harry’s toothpaste and the chocolate croissant he devoured on their little cafe date and that was just lovely. Harry could smell Niall’s shampoo, and that was just as lovely. And Harry could smell the sweat, the musk, and the boy from what they just did, and that was the loveliest.
From what they’ve been doing for the past forever - he doesn’t even know, hasn’t kept track because he got so lost in it along the way - and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Niall was so fucking good to him, and he knew he was so fucking good for Niall too. He just knew it, or no he didn’t. He really didn’t. He knew that Niall was made so perfectly for him, and Harry could only hope he was made perfectly for Niall.
“What’re you goin’ on about, Harry?” His voice was so scratchy and soft and everything Harry wanted to hear. Gradually had Niall’s voice grown and adapted Harry’s similar teasing lilt, and the first time Harry heard his bright, bright laugh, Niall had blushed so fucking pretty and Harry had almost cried. But heaven knows if Harry could answer Niall’s question without scaring him away. You’re perfect, and you’re not as sad anymore and I’m not as sad either and I like to think that’s because I came into your life and you tumbled into mine and I know I love you and I think you love me back and we haven’t said it out loud yet but you’re mine and i’m utterly and completely all yours so take me, have me, keep me, p l e a s e was on the tip of his tongue, but he pinched the skin near his rib and swallowed the words as if they tasted like Niall.
“Nothing, nothing, let’s hit the shower, yeah? You stink of my cum.” Niall fucking giggled, and there was no way for Harry to describe the way Niall looked now. What a wonderful sometimes.
“As if that’s ever bothered you.” Then Harry did too.