Work Text:
“No, that goes over here.” Louis sighs, taking the record out of Niall’s hand and stepping over by one bin before sliding it in. “Genre first, then alphabetical.”
“It’s the Beatles.” Niall huffs. “They belong in rock.”
“It’s ‘Magical Mystery Tour’, which makes it psychedelic rock.” Louis corrects. “It’s a different genre. Would you put ‘Waiting for the Sun’ in the same category as ‘Other Voices’?”
“Yes, because they’re both by The Doors.” Niall argues. “Someone shouldn’t have to go through multiple bins just to complete a collection by one artist. Do you put ‘Yellow Submarine’ in the orchestral section just because of the side B? What about Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band? It’s pop, rock, psychedelic rock, and art rock. Where does that go?”
“You know, with the purple hair, and the oversized jumpers, and the general flower-child vibe you’ve got going on, I really thought you’d be more laid back.” Louis chuckles.
“Music is important to me.” Niall mumbles, turning back to the box of new records he’s supposed to be stocking.
“Picked a good place to work then, didn’t you?” Louis hums, giving Niall’s shoulder a quick squeeze before wandering back up towards the register. “Put them wherever you think they should go then. Doesn’t really make a difference to me. You’re the one that’s going to have to help people find things if they’re in the wrong bins.”
“I’m fine with that.” Niall calls over his shoulder. “And my hair isn’t just ‘purple’. It’s lilac. There’s a difference.”
“Whatever you say.” Louis laughs, leaving Niall to his own devices and disappearing from sight.
Niall likes this part. He likes stacking the albums and humming the songs from them under his breath. He likes the peace that comes over him when he performs the simplistic task. He’s getting pretty into the tune from ‘Breathe’ when someone clears their throat and startles him out of his Pink Floyd induced trance.
“Do you do the whole thing, or just from the point where they start singing?” a slow, deep voice asks before Niall can turn around.
“Whole thing.” Niall says lightly, not bothering to turn around, lest the guy see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks from getting caught.
“Conjoined with ‘Speak To Me’ or separate?” the guy asks.
“Separate, the way it was written to be for the original vinyl.” Niall tells him. “Something I can help you with?”
“Normally someone looks at another person when they ask that.” the other guy points out.
“I’m a good multi-tasker.” Niall says with a shrug. He prays that his blush has receded, and turns around.
Immediately, he wishes that he’d kept to his task. He wasn’t expecting this when he turned around. The guy is gorgeous. Unbelievably, unspeakably, undeniably gorgeous. He’s got long brown hair, tied back with a light green ribbon, pieces falling out seemingly at random to frame his face. Jesus, his face. God must have spent some extra time chiseling this one out, with that jawline, and that mouth, and the way his eyes crinkle with his slight smile.
The ribbon matches the color of his shirt, though it lacks the delicate pink flowers that adorn the button up that the boy seems to have missed the point of. Not that it matters, seeing as most of his exposed chest is hidden under a pair of dungarees that Niall knows he shouldn’t find this ridiculously sexy. Maybe it’s the paint flecks spattered all over them, a rainbow that finds its beauty in the lack of a pattern. His hands are much the same, dyed in varying hues that stain his hands and wrists.
The sleeves are rolled back to his elbows, and the shirt is somehow free of the paint that covers his hands and dungarees. It’s a really, really strange look, but Niall finds it mesmerizing. And yet, all of the rest of it pales in comparison to the lad’s eyes. They’re green and gold and grey, a swirl of colors that catches the light to shift and shimmer like stars on a pond.
His mouth makes such interesting shapes when it moves. Niall is a bit busy admiring them to actually hear what the boy is saying though. “I’m sorry, what?” he asks dazedly.
“I said that I haven’t seen you around here before.” the lad (apparently) repeats. To be honest, he could have said that Niall looked like a Muppet and he wouldn’t know any better.
“Oh, yeah it’s- It’s my, um- My second day.” Niall stammers out in explanation. “Do you come here often?”
“Whenever I can.” he confirms, both to Niall’s delight and dismay. He’ll never get any work done with a bloke like this coming around so often. Not that his work is really that taxing or anything. Mostly he just organizes the records and books, and covers the register when Louis goes out.
“Ah.” Niall manages to croak out with a nod.
“You sound Irish. New to the city?” the boy asks.
“Yeah.” Niall says. “Just- Just moved here last week.”
“Are you here for University?” he asks, continuing his onslaught of questions, somehow talking slow as syrup, and yet, also not giving Niall any time to regain his composure.
“No. Just decided to move.” Niall admits vaguely, shaking his head. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I was looking through the Beatles, and I couldn’t find ‘Magical Mystery Tour’.” the guy explains. “Do you have it in the back maybe?”
“I told you!” Niall laughs, sticking his head around the corner to narrow his eyes at Louis accusingly.
“Just help the customer!” Louis calls back, eyes not lifting from his mobile.
“He insisted that it be placed it over here.” Niall tells the lad, flipping through the psych-rock bin until he finds the album, and hands it over. “I forgot to re-file it with the rest of their stuff when he went to laze about.”
“Artists should be prioritized over one album’s genre.” the lad hums.
“You’re officially my new favorite customer.” Niall laughs. “Anything else, or are you set?”
“I think this is enough for today.” the boy says with an infectious smile. “Thanks for the help.”
“Of course.” Niall nods. “Um- Have a nice day.”
“You too.” he muses. “Oh, by the way, the lilac is nice. It’s original. I like it.”
Niall doesn’t have a chance to say anything before the boy wanders over to the register. That’s not really a problem though. Niall isn’t sure he could find his voice anyways. His jaw is clamped shut, and he buries his face in his jumper to hide the furious blush staining over his cheeks. That doesn’t stop him from watching the gorgeous boy in the dungarees out of the corner of his eye until he walks out the door.
“Well, well, well-” Louis hums, popping up out of nowhere at Niall’s shoulder. “What’s got you so red, my little Niall?”
“Shut up, Louis.” Niall mutters, turning back to his work. To be fair, he probably should have been doing that already.
“Is it Harry?” Louis asks, ignoring the stormy look Niall shoots at him.
“I don’t know who Harry is.” Niall shrugs, filing away two copies of ‘Hotel California’, and putting it in the back of his mind for pay-day. He has it on iTunes already, but he wants the vinyl. Then again, he should probably just hand over his money to Liam to help with rent and food and all that.
“He’s the customer that you were just flirting with.” Louis says with a particularly wicked grin.
“I was not flirting!” Niall squeaks, his face turning an even darker shade of red than it already was. If he gets any redder, he’s afraid he’ll burn from the inside out.
“Sure you weren’t.” Louis chuckles. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Liam about this.”
“Working with you is going to be hell, isn’t it?” Niall sighs.
“It’ll be much easier if you just accept that I know everything.” Louis smirks. “Like how I know that you think Harry is hot.”
“Shut up.” Niall huffs.
“So- I hear my cousin has a little crush.” Liam giggles, dropping down on the foot of Niall’s bed, which is technically also the sofa. Actually, it’s a futon if you want to get technical about it.
“Louis is an idiot.” Niall mutters. He keeps his eyes firmly locked on the strings of his guitar while he tunes it. He knows what he’ll find if he glances up. Liam will be giving him a pair of puppy-dog eyes that could end wars if he directed them at the right people. Niall knows better than to fall for it, but he also knows that he will within half a second if he looks. He has a soft spot for Liam, especially now.
They’re cousins through marriage. Someone’s uncle married someone’s aunt. Niall doesn’t really remember all of it to be honest. He has a big extended family, and it’s hard to keep everyone straight. What he does remember is that he and Liam took to each other immediately when they met at a family reunion. They didn’t get to see each other very often, seeing as they lived in different countries, but they were inseparable whenever they were anywhere in the same general vicinity.
And when Niall needed somewhere to live, needed to get a new start, Liam offered up his place immediately, and insisted on Niall staying with him. If that weren’t enough already, he also helped Niall find a job that he actually likes, despite how Louis has a slight tendency to butt into his business. And he helped Niall dye his hair, but that’s a different story. Despite all of that, Niall isn’t ready to talk about this yet, so he’s keeping his eyes away from Liam’s weapons of mass affection.
“Be nice.” Liam whines.
“I am being nice.” Niall chuckles. “If I weren’t, I’d have said that he’s a nosy idiot.”
“You just did.” Liam huffs. “I thought you liked Louis.”
“I do. I just don’t like people sticking their noses in my business.” Niall tells him, hoping to give Liam the hint to drop it.
“That’s just how he is.” Liam hums. “You’re new and shiny for him. He’ll lay off once he’s gotten used to having you around.”
“That cannot come soon enough.” Niall mutters.
“Are you going to tell me about it, or am I just wasting my time?” Liam asks.
“Wasting your time.” Niall says immediately.
Of course, Liam must have already known what Niall’s answer would be. He moves quickly, too quickly, and pulls the guitar out of Niall’s lap before sliding his own head into its place. Niall doesn’t even have a chance to snap his eyes closed before Liam’s puppy-dog eyes, and what Niall is sure is a meticulously perfected pout, crash through his defenses like a wrecking ball. “Niall!” he whimpers, lip trembling where he has it jutted out like he’s about to cry.
“You’re a bloody monster.” Niall groans. “Fine, yes, I saw a boy that I thought was attractive. It’s not a crush though. He was only there for like, three minutes, and we only said like, a hundred words between us.”
“I hear he complimented your hair.” Liam smirks.
“Does Louis have bloody bat ears or something?” Niall sighs.
“And the eyes of a hawk.” Liam confirms. “I think he only wears glasses because they let him see into a person’s brain. It’s impossible to hide anything when it comes to Louis Tomlinson.”
“We’ll see.” Niall mutters. “Get off my lap you great bloody oaf. You’ve gotten what you wanted, and I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so leave me to my music.”
“Um- Actually- I was kind of hoping to watch Bake Off, but the only telly in the flat is out here.” Liam says with a sheepish grin.
“Ah. I get it. Kicking me out of my bed so you can watch twelve people compete to see who can make the best biscuits.” Niall says, feigning annoyance with the situation. He doesn’t really care that much.
“They’re down to nine now, and they’ve already done the biscuit episode.” Liam smiles. “And actually, I was hoping you’d watch it with me. It’s always better with a buddy.”
“I’ll need something to snack on. That show always makes me hungry.” Niall sighs, resigning himself to not getting any time with his guitar tonight. That’s fine. All he could think about while he was trying to write was long brown hair tied back in a green ribbon, falling out to frame a beautiful face.
It’s nearly a week before Niall sees Harry again, not that he’s been paying that much attention. School has started back up for Liam and Louis, which means that Niall has been pretty much running the store himself during the day. He doesn’t mind so much, since they don’t get a lot of foot traffic. It’s the deliveries that are the problem. A record store doesn’t get a lot of business in the digital age, so the store makes deliveries to keep the doors open.
He hasn’t had a customer all day, delivery or otherwise, so it’s not really fair to judge him for dancing around to keep himself awake. Especially when he’s got control over the music. He’s got ‘Hotel California’ going at a volume that shouldn’t affect the shops next door, and yet loud enough that it can get his blood pumping. Not that The Eagles really need any help in that department.
Of course, he can’t just dance around like an idiot and still feel like he’s earning his paycheck, so he’s also dusting. It might not be the best job he’s ever done, but he’s alone and bored and just wants to shake his arse. So maybe he gets a bit too into his dancing and forgets to pay attention to the front door, or the bell attached to it. But really, it’s Harry’s fault for sneaking up on him.
He says, “You know, I never really thought of this as a song to dance around like that to.” and it scares Niall half to death.
The lilac haired boy turns quickly, clutching his chest with one hand, and using the one with the duster to throw it at the source of the sudden intrusion. It’s not a great reaction, and definitely not a professional one, but he’s still bloody frightened, and it’s what happens. He realizes who’s spoken only a moment before the feathery projectile hits Harry right in the face, sending him toppling backwards onto the floor with a yelp.
Niall rushes forward and kneels next to him, apologies spilling out through his lips so fast that he’s not even sure what he’s saying. Harry stops him by holding up a hand and saying, “Well, hello to you too, Lilac.”
“I’m so sorry.” Niall sighs. “It was an accident.”
“It’s my fault.” Harry chuckles, lifting himself up into a sitting position to look straight in Niall’s eyes. “Should have just let you keep dancing without interruption. Wasn’t a half bad show anyways.”
“I thought I was alone.” Niall huffs, standing back up and gabbing the duster off of the ground. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“A bit lost in your own little world, were you?” Harry hums, looking up at Niall with so much amusement that he can’t help but flush. “Feel free to finish up if you like. I’ll just watch this time as long as you promise not to assault me again.”
“I’m done.” Niall mumbles, heading over behind the counter and dropping the volume down low. “Listen, I really am sorry. You startled me, but that’s no excuse.”
“It happens.” Harry says, waving him off. He stands up, and Niall gets a good look at him finally. He’s wearing the same dungarees, but his shirt is an unpatterned powder blue today. Rather than another ribbon, his hair is all piled up on top of his head and held out of his eyes by a scarf that’s been haphazardly wrapped a few times around his forehead.
“Are you alright?” Niall asks. “I didn’t give you a concussion or anything, did I?”
“I don’t think you did any lasting damage, Lilac.” Harry laughs. “It’ll take more than a feather duster to put me out of commission.”
“Does it hurt?” Niall asks.
“Not particularly.” Harry shrugs. “It was more the shock of it all that landed me on my back. Your scream was startling.”
“I did not scream.” Niall huffs.
“You did.” Harry says with a wide grin. “I thought it might blow one of my eardrums out.”
“You are rapidly drying up the well of my sympathy for you.” Niall says flatly.
“Good. I don’t want your sympathy.” Harry smirks, leaning onto his elbow on the counter. “I wouldn’t mind getting your name though, unless you’re fine with me calling you Lilac, Lilac.”
“It’s Niall.” he admits, fighting back another blush.
“I’m Harry.” the brunet offers, and Niall has to suppress the urge to tell him that he already knows that. It sounds kind of creepy. “I’m not usually so rude as to not introduce myself the first time I meet someone, but you seem to have a way of catching me off-guard.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s you actually.” Niall points out. “You’re the one that keeps sneaking up on me.”
“Touché.” Harry laughs. “I’ll try ringing ahead next time to give you time to prepare.”
“Or you could just try not creeping up behind me like a ninja.” Niall counters.
“No guarantees.” Harry smiles.
“Is there something in particular you’re looking for?” Niall asks, remembering how much he needs this job in order to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
“Well I came in for some Jimi Hendrix, but I think ‘Black Eye’ is more appropriate after this encounter.” Harry chuckles.
“I’m not familiar with that artist.” Niall tells him, opening up the store’s inventory. “Give me a second, and I’ll see if we have any of their stuff in stock.”
“It’s an album actually.” Harry laughs. “By a punk rock band from the nineties named Fluffy. All girl group. Not really my taste. It was supposed to be a joke, but I guess it fell flat.”
“Oh, um- Sorry?” Niall says, his inflection going up at the end like a question while he blushes yet again.
“Don’t be.” Harry hums. “It wasn’t a very good joke.”
“No, not really.” Niall agrees.
“Ouch. That hurts, Niall.” Harry says with a pout that looks almost as practiced as Liam’s and makes what feels like Niall’s hundredth blush of the day flare up on his cheeks. “It really, really hurts.”
“Get better jokes then.” Niall counters.
“No!” Louis yelps from the door, rushing through the place and around the counter. “I just sat through a four hour lecture. I’m not listening to this one telling shitty puns for the next hour to try and get you to laugh.”
“Nice to see you too, Lou.” Harry says dryly.
“Harry, mate, you know I love you-” Louis sighs. “But your jokes are fucking terrible.”
“Is being mean to me one of the hiring credentials around here or something?” Harry scowls. “First it was you, and then you dragged poor Liam into it, and now, Niall hasn’t even been here that long, and he’s throwing things at my face when I walk in the door.”
“You what?” Louis hisses, eyes narrowing dangerously at Niall.
“It was an accident.” Niall squeaks out, shrinking down in his jumper in the hopes that he’ll just disappear. He hasn’t even been at this job long enough to get paid. He really can’t afford to lose it.
“I startled him.” Harry explains. “It was my fault.”
“Oh, I’m sure it was.” Louis laughs. “I’m just mad that he did it when I wasn’t here to see it.”
“I’m going to find a new record store to buy from if you keep this up.” Harry whines.
“Good. Spare me from your endless puns, and Niall from your clumsy attempts at flirting.” Louis smirks.
Niall and Harry both yelp “There was no flirting!” at the same time, which just makes Louis look all the more smug. Niall is pretty sure he can’t possibly get any redder at this point. He resolutely refuses to look at Harry after that.
“No, never.” Louis says with an eye roll that is monumental in its sarcasm. “Whatever. What are you looking for then? Stones? Cher? More Hendrix?”
“Bingo.” Harry grins. “You know nobody gets my juices flowing like Jimi.”
“I’m sure that you have no problem with juice flow.” Louis snorts.
“Alright, I’ll leave you two to this.” Niall says quickly. “I’m taking my break now.”
“Go on then.” Louis waves him off. “I’ll clean up your mess then.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Niall catches Harry’s face fall for a half of a second. Before he can get a proper look though, Louis and he are back to bantering, and Niall makes his way to the small room in the back. It’s supposed to be used for storage, but there’s a table and a mini-fridge for the employees to keep their lunches in. It suffices well enough, even if it does make Niall’s claustrophobia flare up a bit.
He’s halfway through his relatively flavorless cheese sandwich when Louis wanders in. Niall rolls his eyes, but says nothing when Louis takes the seat next to him with a wolfish grin. “So-” Louis hums, reaching his hand into Niall’s packet of crisps and stealing one before Niall can manage to cut his hand off for the offense. “What was that all about?”
“He scared me, because I didn’t hear him come in, and I accidentally threw the duster at him.” Niall admits with a groan, flushing brightly at the memory and burying his face in his jumper.
“I was talking about the whole ‘you fleeing the room to get away from him’ thing.” Louis huffs. “Did he say something that upset you?”
“No.” Niall says flatly. “You did. We weren’t flirting.”
“When I came in, you were blushing like a schoolgirl caught with someone else’s hand up her skirt.” Louis scoffs.
“You’re disgusting.” Niall mutters.
“No, I just don’t mince words.” Louis says with a slight shrug. “It’s not like Liam didn’t already tell me that you admitted to thinking that Harry is gorgeous.”
“That little-” Niall growls. “I said I thought he was attractive, that’s all, not that it’s any of your business.”
“I’m friends with him you know.” Louis offers. “If you wanted, I could-”
“No!” Niall hisses, cutting him off with a furious glare. “I don’t want you to do anything, and I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I know that Liam told you why I moved here, so please, just back off. I’m not ready for anything like that.”
“Alright.” Louis says weakly, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Can I just say one thing?”
“No.” Niall huffs, though he knows full well it won’t matter, because Louis is already drawing in breath for whatever he’s going to add.
“You shouldn’t let them, or what they think, hold you back from being happy, Niall.” Louis says gently. “You have to do right by yourself.”
“I’m trying.” Niall mumbles, resuming eating his sandwich and ignoring the sad look that Louis aims at him until the other boy finally just leaves him alone. He refuses to let himself cry, to let himself shed another tear in this whole thing, but it takes longer than his break should technically be. Louis doesn’t say anything about it when Niall rejoins him on the floor.
Seeing Harry turns into a nearly everyday affair after that. He rarely sneaks up on Niall anymore, though it does still happen occasionally, due to Niall’s seeming inability to make it through a shift without getting lost in thought or dancing like an idiot. Nothing has really come of it. Niall still doesn’t see any of their talks as flirting like Louis keeps insisting that they are.
All they talk about is their mutual love of music. Niall’s never met anyone in his age-group that can rival his own encyclopedic knowledge of classic rock before, but Harry comes really close. It’s endearing, and yet also a bit frustrating. Harry knowing the in and out of every Eagles album definitely doesn’t reduce his attractiveness level in Niall’s eyes, which is not a good thing.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Harry asks one day while he and Niall are lounged out on the floor, listening to Hendrix.
“Got my first day off in the month since I started, so- Nothing.” Niall hums contentedly. “Going to laze about with my guitar. Maybe I’ll actually sleep in. That sounds brilliant.”
“Oh.” Harry says quietly.
“You?” Niall asks.
“Well- I have tickets for this thing. It’s a Pink Floyd laser-light show.” Harry explains. “They play their albums, and then they fill the stage with fog, and project images and stuff on it with lasers. It’s supposed to be really cool.”
“Sounds sick mate.” Niall chuckles.
“Maybe. I don’t really want to go alone though.” Harry mumbles. “I was kind of hoping that you’d want to go.”
“Really?” Niall asks, sitting up and looking down at Harry.
“You’re the only person I know who appreciates classic rock properly.” Harry smiles. “It’s fine though. I’ll stay in and work or study or something. You deserve a day off.”
“Obviously we’re going to Floyd, you git.” Niall giggles. “I haven’t done anything since I moved to this bloody city except work and watch Bake Off with Liam and Louis. How much are the tickets?”
“I already have two.” Harry beams. “Got them ages ago.”
“Okay.” Niall says sheepishly. “Are you sure that-”
“I’m not letting you pay me for one.” Harry cuts him off. “They’d have just gone to waste if I didn’t have someone to go with.”
“Alright.” Niall sighs.
“The theatre isn’t that far from here. Meet me out front at six?” Harry requests.
“Sure.” Niall agrees easily.
“Great.” Harry laughs. “I’ve got to get going then. I have a project due soon that isn’t finished yet.”
“Good. Get out of here and let me do some actual work.” Niall giggles. “I always have to do a rush job once you leave just to get everything done that I’m supposed to.”
“You like it.” Harry grins wolfishly. “My visits break the tedium.”
“You’ll never know if that’s true or not.” Niall hums, jumping up to his feet. “See you, Styles.”
“Later, Lilac.” Harry muses on his way out of the door.
Niall had planned on relaxing, but his first day off is anything except relaxing. He can’t figure out what to do with himself. It’s like his body can’t stay bloody still for more than a few seconds. So he decides to distract himself, getting out his nervous energy by cleaning the flat.
He gathers the rubbish and takes that out first. After that he does the dishes, reminding himself to talk to Liam at some point about remembering to throw his tea bags in the bin, rather than leaving them in the sink like a savage. Once the dishes are all clinking in the wash, he gathers up both his and Liam’s dirty clothes. Unfortunately, Liam had just done the washing a few days prior, so there’s not a lot to do on that front, and it doesn’t take as long as he’d like.
Once the flat is clean, devoid of any more tasks for Niall to complete, he decides to add another lilac rinse to his hair. The color doesn’t last the same way that the blonde does, and the fact that their water sucks doesn’t really help on that front. It’s getting close to five by the time that he finishes showering, and that’s when the panic starts to really set in.
He doesn’t think that this is a date. Harry didn’t say that it was a date. Do people even actually say that anymore though? Aren’t you just supposed to know? Niall doesn’t know though. He’s never been on a date. He’s never done this sort of thing, platonic or not. He didn’t have many friends back in Ireland. He didn’t let people get close, deathly afraid that they’d see the truth and be disgusted with him for it.
Still, he wants to look nice, even if this isn’t a date. The only problem is that he suddenly hates every article of clothing that he owns. Nothing is right. All of his clothes are baggy, oversized jumpers that hide his torso completely, dangling well past his hips and wrists, giving him the appearance of a small child, and jeans that make his legs look scrawny and his knees look knobby. Once his mobile chirps at him to let him know it’s gone half five, he settles on a cream colored jumper, blue jeans, and a pair of brown boots that Harry complimented him on once.
He checks to make sure he has everything; his mobile, his wallet (with his frankly pathetic amount of spending cash), and his keys. Once he’s done three checks on himself in the mirror, he locks up the flat and heads a few streets over to the store. When he walks in, nobody is in sight, but he hears Liam’s voice float over and say, “Cowell Records, how can we- Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t resist coming in to shove our noses in your day off, could you?” Louis asks, stepping out from around one of the display shelves with Liam in tow. They look tousled, like they’ve been arguing or something, but Niall is too nervous to interpret that.
“No, I um- I’m going out.” Niall mumbles, his skin already starting to heat up. “Harry and I are-”
“You’ve got a date with Harry?” Louis asks loudly, crossing the distance between them like a bolt of lightning.
“No.” Niall huffs. “He had an extra ticket to a show, and he didn’t want to go alone. I’m the only friend he has that likes Pink Floyd as much as he does, so he asked me to tag along to keep him from going alone and feeling silly.”
“That sounds like a date, mate.” Louis smirks.
“Louis.” Liam says sternly, causing Louis to flinch and then sigh.
“Fine. I’ll leave it alone.” Louis mutters, throwing his hands up in defeat and wandering over towards the register. “Bloody boring, the both of you.”
“You look nice.” Liam offers with a soft, reassuring smile.
“Thanks.” Niall says quietly.
“Don’t be so nervous.” Liam whispers in his ear. “You have nothing to worry about. Just have a good time.”
“I’ll try.” Niall sighs. “You can get back to whatever you were doing before. Harry is supposed to be here any-”
He’s cut off by the sound of the bell ringing, and a familiarly heavy step making its way inside. “Ah, there you are.” Harry laughs. “Hey, Liam. Louis.”
“Hi.” Liam chuckles. Louis just gives some halfhearted wave while he focuses on his mobile.
“Are you ready?” Harry asks.
“Yeah.” Niall answers with a nod, though he’s definitely feeling less ready than ever. Harry has forgone and of his usual pairs of paint-spattered dungarees in favor of a pair of black skinny jeans that leave very little to the imagination. He’s wearing one of his trademark button downs, the same one that he’d worn the first time Niall had met him, light green and patterned with pink flowers, under a sheepskin coat. It’s the first time that Niall has ever seen his hair down, and he has to suppress a groan at how great it looks. Niall feels even stupider in his outfit than he did already.
“Excellent.” Harry beams, hooking a hand around Niall’s elbow and dragging him out of the safety of the shop with a quick shout over his shoulder of, “Bye boys!”
“I thought you weren’t going to show for a minute.” Harry admits once they start walking. “I showed up, and you weren’t outside, so I thought maybe you decided not to come.”
“Sorry. I showed up a bit early, and I forgot a jacket.” Niall mumbles. “The wind goes straight through this jumper, and I apparently couldn’t remember that it’s nearly October now.”
“Do you want to borrow mine?” Harry offers, the sheepskin half off his shoulders by the time he finishes.
“No.” Niall laughs, halting Harry’s attempts at freeing his arms. “You need it more than I do, and it’s not so bad as long as I’m moving.”
“You’re sure?” Harry asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I’m from rural Ireland, Harry.” Niall chuckles. “Trust me, I can handle a bit of chill.”
“Well let me know if you change your mind.” Harry smiles. Niall has to force himself to look away, keeping his eyes trained on the sidewalk, because if he lets himself get too caught up in Harry’s enthusiasm, he knows he’ll say or do something embarrassing.
They walk together quietly, and Niall can’t tell if it’s an awkward silence, or if it’s comfortable and he’s just feeling awkward because he still has no idea what this whole thing is. He’s colder than he’s willing to let on after turning down Harry’s jacket, but his palms are sweating like he’s in the Gobi desert. His heart is racing like they’re running the London marathon, rather than walking slowly towards a nearby theatre. It makes no sense, and the contradictions are making Niall feel like he’s about to throw up.
It’s like stage-fright, but magnified, even though the only person who might be paying the slightest bit of attention to him is someone he knows. He should be fine, but he doesn’t feel fine. Only, there’s a part of him that’s excited, that enjoys the feeling. He’s not sure what to make of it.
“The theatre is just around the corner here.” Harry says, pulling Niall out of his head.
“Okay.” Niall mumbles, tucking his hands into his pockets.
“I didn’t mean to guilt trip you into going, Niall. If you want to go back home or something that’s fine.” Harry says quietly, stopping at the corner.
“What?” Niall asks, cocking his head to the side.
“You haven’t said anything for the last ten minutes, and you’ve been staring at your feet.” Harry sighs. “It’s fine if you don’t want to go with me. I didn’t mean to obligate you into it.”
“Harry, I want to go.” Niall says with a quick smile. “I just got caught up in my head. I have a tendency to do that. Sorry. You probably could have picked someone more social than I am. I’m not great company.”
“You’re sure you want to go?” Harry asks tentatively.
“I am.” Niall nods. “I’ll try not to get so caught up in my head. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.” Harry says softly. “Come on. We’d better queue up.”
“That was amazing.” Niall giggles, stumbling out through the front doors with Harry close behind. It was a Pink Floyd laser-light show, so really, Niall shouldn’t have been surprised when half the audience sparked up, but he was. He doesn’t light up himself, but with the thick fog of cannabis smoke hanging in the air, it was impossible not to get a bit secondhand stoned.
“It was so pretty.” Harry hums, draping his arm over Niall’s shoulders. He’s definitely higher than Niall is. Niall could shrink down into his seat to avoid the worst of it, but Harry’s knees were already knocking against the back of the seat in front of him, so he was pretty much surrounded by it. “Like your hair. Your hair is pretty.”
“Yours too.” Niall chuckles, brushing a bit of Harry’s out of his face. “I didn’t realize it was so long.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of it.” Harry beams.
“I noticed.” Niall says solemnly, only realizing afterwards that his hand is still on Harry’s face and they’re only inches apart. He pulls it away quickly, stepping out from under Harry’s arm and burying his face in his own jumper to hide his blush.
“Look!” Harry practically shouts, apparently unfazed by Niall’s behavior. He points across the street towards what appears to be a pub and adds, “I’m starving!”
“You’re stoned.” Niall corrects him.
“Come on.” Harry grins, grabbing Niall’s hand and tugging him into the street. Niall, as the more sober member of their little duo, has to be on the lookout for cars. They barely manage to make it across the road without incident, stepping onto the curb just before a taxi goes screaming by with its horn blaring.
“You’re a bloody mad man.” Niall huffs, pushing Harry in through the doors of the pub before he can become a danger to himself or others again. “Didn’t your mum teach you not to run into traffic?”
“I want fish and chips.” Harry chirps, blatantly ignoring Niall at this point.
“Find a booth and sit still. I’ll go order us something.” Niall sighs, pointing Harry towards the back of the pub and giving him a gentle shove until the brunet gets moving. He orders two baskets of fish and chips, and water to drink. He’s sure that adding alcohol into their systems right now would just exacerbate the effects of getting hot-boxed.
When he finds Harry again, the giggly lad is sitting perfectly still, except for where his lips keep twitching into a smile before he thins them out again into a straight line. Niall sets down the food first, and then the drinks, before finally taking a seat himself. Harry doesn’t move or talk throughout the entire process. Niall doesn’t really understand, or care, what’s going on with Harry at the moment. He’s pretty hungry himself, so he just starts eating.
After a few moments and chips, Harry lets out a loud sigh through his nose until Niall quirks a brow at him. Harry’s eyes flick from Niall, down to where his mobile is laid out on the table, and then back up. He repeats the process a few times until Niall grabs the device and reads out what Harry’s written on the screen, “’Can I move yet?’ Fucking- Christ, Harry. Yes, you can move.”
“Finally!” Harry giggles, grabbing a piece of fish and tearing into it like it’s his last meal.
Niall slides Harry’s mobile back to him before adding, “Remind me to never be around you again when you’re high.”
“Niall!” Harry whines, pouting at him mercilessly. “It’s not my fault!”
“Whether or not it’s your fault, you’re still a handful.” Niall huffs.
“I’m a lot more than a handful.” Harry smirks, waggling his eyebrows.
“Shut up.” Niall snorts, turning his attention back to his food to hide his blush. The last thing he needs in his slightly inebriated state is to have those kinds of images of Harry flooding his brain.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Harry asks once he’s finished off his first piece of fish.
“It was great.” Niall grins. “You?”
“It was even more fun than I thought it would be.” Harry beams. “I’m glad you came with me.”
“Would you really have just stayed in and missed it?” Niall asks quietly.
“I- The tickets were a gift.” Harry mumbles. “But the person who gave them to me isn’t here anymore. He just left one day a few months ago, and gave them to me as a goodbye present. I was going to throw them out, but every time I tried, I couldn’t do it. When I met you, and you liked that kind of music as much as I do, I thought that maybe there was a reason that I couldn’t get rid of them. So, yeah, if you hadn’t gone with me, I probably would have just stayed in.”
“Oh.” Niall nods. “Was he- I mean- Were you two-”
“Together? No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “He was just my best mate. We were in the same undergrad art program, and then we both went to the same fine art school. Well- We were supposed to anyways. He left literally the week after we moved into our new flat. He got accepted into a program in Paris, and he left. I’m surprised you don’t know all of this already though.”
“Why?” Niall asks. “This is the first time you’ve mentioned it.”
“My mate’s name is Zayn.” Harry tells him. “He was Liam’s boyfriend.”
“Liam’s what now?” Niall asks, his eyes going wide. “I didn’t even know Liam liked blokes.”
“They never really called it anything. Zayn hates labels.” Harry shrugs. “But they were seeing each other for about a year. That’s how I found the record shop.”
“I’d been wondering about that.” Niall admits. “You aren’t like most of our customers.”
“How so?” Harry questions.
“Well, you’re a lot younger than most of them.” Niall explains. “So it isn’t nostalgia that gets you to come around. And it’s not just about enjoying the music, because you can get pretty much anything online now. You’re a bit of a hipster, but I’ve seen you sing along to Beyoncé or Ed Sheeran as happily as you do with The Stones or Janis Joplin, so it’s not about being outside of the mainstream. You don’t really fit into any of the other groups of people that come in.”
“So why do you think I do?” Harry asks.
“I don’t know.” Niall admits.
“Best guess then.” Harry smirks.
“I suppose you come in because you like owning the records.” Niall mumbles.
“Nope.” Harry grins. “I mean, I do enjoy owning the records, yeah. I listen to them while I paint, because they put me into the zone. That’s not why I come in though.”
“I don’t know then.” Niall shrugs.
“I think you do.” Harry hums.
“I really don’t.” Niall mutters.
“Niall.” Harry says, his voice firm and much more sober than he sounded when they first got here.
“What’s that?” Niall asks, pointing at something at the back end of the pub in the hopes of changing the subject.
“Um- I think it’s a karaoke machine.” Harry says once he glances at it. “I feel like you should probably know that.”
“Never actually seen one before.” Niall admits. “I didn’t realize that people actually did it. It always seemed almost like an urban legend or something. People talk about it happening at like, pubs and weddings and stuff, but I swear to God, I’ve never actually seen one.”
“You want to give it a go?” Harry asks with a wicked grin.
“You’re definitely still stoned.” Niall snorts.
“Come on.” Harry pouts.
“No. I’m definitely going to remember this tomorrow. You’re the one who won’t have to live with the embarrassment.” Niall huffs.
“I’m not as bad off as you seem to think I am.” Harry says, rolling his eyes.
“You’re bad off enough to think that I’d get up on that stage with you and sing in front of a bunch of strangers.” Niall points out.
“Will you just live a little?” Harry scoffs. “Come on.”
“No.” Niall says adamantly.
“Pretty please?” Harry asks, batting his eyes and jutting out his lip in a maneuver that puts Liam’s puppy-dog eyes to shame. It also makes butterflies swoop around in Niall’s stomach like eagles. “Just one song? I’ve heard you sing before. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Harry-” Niall sighs.
“Don’t make me get on my knees and beg.” Harry cuts him off. “I’m willing, but it’ll ruin these jeans.”
“No.” Niall repeats.
Harry groans and shimmies out of his booth. He walks around to the other side and begins to kneel. Niall laughs and catches him by the elbow, shaking his head as he says, “Do not even get on this floor. My boots kept sticking to it.”
“I will if that’s what it takes.” Harry smirks, lowering himself down a bit more until one of his knees is hovering just above the ground.
“Oh my god, fine.” Niall chuckles. “But I’m going to kick your arse if we make fools of ourselves.”
“Oh, that’s definitely going to happen.” Harry grins. “But that’s half the fun. Come on.”
He stands back up, lacing his fingers through Niall’s and tugging him out of the booth and over towards the machine. A collective groan goes through the room once people notice Harry fiddling with the dials on the machine, but the barman makes no move to stop them, so Niall assumes that it’s okay. Harry passes him a microphone and asks, “Person A, or person B?”
“Person B.” Niall decides. “You can take the brunt of the humiliation.”
“Alright, your lines will be in blue, and mine will be in red. When we’re together it’ll be purple.” Harry rushes out in explanation before clicking another button.
Niall feels like groaning with the rest of the people in the pub when a series of familiar chords starts up. Harry just gives him a smug smile before starting with the first line. “Well you’re a real tough cookie, with a long history-” Harry croons. “Of breaking little hearts, like the one in me.”
Niall turns to the screen, watching the red words scroll and Harry continues to sing, “That’s okay, let’s see how you do it! Put up your dukes, let’s get down to it!”
Niall joins in on the chorus, letting Harry’s enthusiasm take him over to keep his voice from trembling. “Hit me with your best shot! Why don’t you hit me with your best shot? Hit me with your best shot! Fire aw-a-a-ay!”
It gets easier after that, and Niall feels his blush sliding away as he takes the next part. “You come on with a "come on", you don't fight fair. But that's ok, see if I care! Knock me down, it's all in vain! I'll get right back on my feet again!”
He keeps his eyes locked with Harry’s after that, finding it more soothing than looking out at the audience or down at the screen. They repeat the chorus, and then comes the guitar solo. He barks out a laugh when Harry starts playing air guitar like a maniac, obviously unaware of how to actually play. He bites his lip and looks at Niall, bumping their shoulder together until Niall joins in, fingers strumming in the air while they both giggle. Harry drops down to his knees, playing wildly while he shakes his head like he’s in a hair band.
He jumps back up to his feet, taking the next part with a beaming smile that Niall feels down to his toes. When the final chorus comes up they both belt it out like their lives depend on it. The final notes ring out while the crowd gives a round of applause. Harry and Niall fall against each other as they stumble away from the machine giggling.
It’s the adrenaline that does it, Niall decides afterwards. Maybe he’s also a bit more stoned than he thought he was. They make their way back to the booth and fall into the same side while laughing like idiots. Niall feels a charge, some electric energy under his skin, and somehow decides that the only way to get it out is to press his lips against Harry’s.
Niall feels Harry tense under his fingers, and that’s when reality comes barreling in like a train. He jumps backwards like he’s been burned, flopping out of the booth and scrambling to his feet. He yelps out a quick, “Fuck! I’m so sorry!”, and then he rushes out the door.
The cement is hard under his boots, reminding him that they weren’t made for running. They really weren’t made for the mad dash he’s making now, barely dodging around people as he sprints down the way that he’d travelled a few hours ago with Harry. He hadn’t paid much attention to the way, too caught up in his head to see where they were going, but by some stroke of luck, he manages to pass the record shop. It’s easy to find his way home from there.
He makes his way up through the stairwell and jams his keys in the lock. The sound of the door slamming behind him on his way in startles someone on the futon, and Louis jumps up with a yelp. Liam sits up immediately afterwards, and Louis slides off of his lap. They’re disheveled, obviously having been in the middle of something, but Niall is too busy fending off a panic attack to care about this new bit of information.
“Niall, what happened?” Liam asks worriedly, moving around where Louis is grumbling on the floor and rubbing his arse.
“I’m an idiot.” Niall mutters. “I’m a stupid fucking cunt.”
“Niall-” Liam repeats, his voice gentle and soothing despite the typhoon raging in Niall’s head.
“I kissed him!” Niall blurts out.
“Oh!” Liam says, his eyes widening for just a second before he gets that neutral expression back. “How did he react?”
“I don’t know.” Niall admits in a whisper. “I ran away. Fuck, I don’t even know if he can get home by himself.”
“He’s been in this city longer than you have.” Louis points out. He’s really no help at all.
“He’s also kind of stoned.” Niall sighs.
“You got high?” Liam asks, that irritating tone he gets when he’s being overly responsible creeping in.
“Not on purpose.” Niall assures him. “We got hot-boxed at the show. Everyone else was smoking, not us.”
“Bet that made it more enjoyable.” Louis snorts.
“Can you fucking not right now?” Niall snaps. “I have enough going on without your stupid jokes, Louis.”
“Sorry.” Louis says sheepishly. “I should probably go.”
Niall makes no protests, moving out of the way of the door as Louis gathers his things and makes his way out. He stops by Liam before he walks out and says, “We’ll talk later.”
Niall barely holds back a snort and an eye roll at that. He lets them have their little conversation, all held through eyebrow movements because apparently they don’t remember that Niall obviously knows what was happening when he walked in. Then Louis backs out of the door and closes it behind him. “Sorry to interrupt whatever that is.” Niall mumbles.
“It’s fine.” Liam tells him, guiding him over towards the futon. They sit down and he adds, “Now tell me again what happened.”
“We did karaoke.” Niall sighs. “And I kind of got caught up in the adrenaline afterwards, and then I kissed him.”
“And then you ran out before he could respond.” Liam finishes for him. “So you don’t actually know what he thinks about it.”
“He went all stiff when it happened.” Niall admits. “He’s not interested. It- it really wasn’t a date. He only went with me because Zayn gave him the tickets, and he didn’t want to waste them.”
“Oh.” Liam says, going as rigid next to Niall as Harry had.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Niall asks.
“I- I wasn’t really ready to talk about it yet.” Liam mumbles. “He just- Just left. He only told me he was leaving the day before he got on the train. I was blindsided. He never even told me that he’d applied for the internship. It only happened about eight weeks ago.”
“You seem to be moving on pretty well.” Niall mutters, wincing as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He didn’t mean for that to slip out, let alone for it to sound so nasty.
“Yeah- Um-” Liam stammers nervously. “About that-”
“I don’t care if you’re with Louis, Liam.” Niall says softly. “I mean, I hope it’s good. I didn’t mean that I don’t care at all. That’s not-”
“I know what you meant.” Liam cuts off his rambling.
“Just- Just not on my bed, yeah?” Niall requests. “I know I’m just a guest, but-”
“You’re not a guest.” Liam says firmly. “You’re family, Niall. We’ll keep things confined to the bedroom from now on, I promise.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Niall nods along. “He’s not a rebound, right?”
“No.” Liam says with a light blush. “I liked Louis before I even met Zayn. He was dating this other guy at the time though, so I started seeing Zayn, and then Louis and the other guy broke it off, but Zayn and I stayed together. Then when he left, I was too upset to get into anything.”
“But you’re ready now?” Niall asks.
“I am.” Liam confirms.
“Good.” Niall says with a slight smile. “Don’t fuck it up. I don’t want to have to play referee between you two if it goes south.”
“We’re family.” Liam pouts. “You’re supposed to automatically be on my side.”
“And you’re supposed to at least tell me that you like blokes, but that never happened, did it?” Niall asks flatly.
“I thought you had enough to deal with.” Liam says softly. “And now-”
“And now I’ve gone and added another heaping pile of shit to my own plate.” Niall sighs.
“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is, Niall.” Liam says gently.
“It is.” Niall mutters. “Can- Can I just go to sleep now? I ran the whole way back, and I’m really tired.”
“Of course, mate.” Liam nods, pulling Niall into a tender hug. “You sleep. We’ll figure things out in the morning.”
Niall doesn’t have to work the next day, so he stays inside the flat and does nothing. He and Harry never exchanged numbers, and Niall has never been more grateful for anything than he is for that. It means that he has complete peace. That is, if peace means biting his fingernails down to painful nubs and bursting into random bouts of tears whenever he remembers what his life has come to now.
He orders Chinese for delivery and swaddles himself in his blanket to watch shit telly. That’s how Liam and Louis find him two hours later, with cold lo mein in his lap and still damp cheeks. They try to make a fuss over him, but Niall threatens to put their eyes out with chopsticks, and they back off after that. Mostly. He still ends up falling asleep with his head on Liam’s lap, and Louis tucked under his legs.
He wakes up alone, but he’s not surprised. Liam and Louis both have early classes on Mondays, which is why Niall has to drag himself out of bed at eight in the morning. He has to open the store by nine. He crawls off of the futon, and takes a ten minute long shower. It’s probably not enough after spending the whole day prior without moving from the couch except to get his food and use the loo, but it is what it is.
After that he makes some tea, and nibbles on some toast that does nothing to calm the roiling stomach acid that’s trying to push its way out through his esophagus. Eventually he can’t wait any longer, and starts to head out to work. But the second his hand touches the doorknob, he can’t hold back the nerves anymore.
He barely makes it to the toilet before his stomach explodes out through his mouth, burning and scarring and spilling out without mercy until Niall is sobbing after it’s all gone. His eyes and nose and throat sting, making every breath he takes feel like torture. He washes his mouth out with water, and blows his nose until he can finally breathe without the smell of vomit threatening to make him hurl all over again.
Afterwards he makes a call to Simon, the owner of the record store, and tells him that he can’t make it in because he’s sick. The man takes it better than Niall had hoped, wishing Niall well and hoping he feels better soon. He curls up on the futon, pulling the blanket over his head, and falling back asleep. Liam shakes him awake a few hours later, asking if he’s alright, but Niall just waves him off and goes back to sleep.
He doesn’t wake up again until the next morning, and again the flat is empty. Niall has the chance to putter around for a bit because his shift doesn’t start until the afternoon. He takes three antacids this time before he heads out, but they’re tested heavily as he makes his way towards the record store.
“He lives.” Louis says dryly when Niall enters the shop.
“Fuck off.” Niall mutters.
“I had to come in and cover half of your shift yesterday you know.” Louis huffs. “Ten seconds after my lecture ended, Cowell called me in. I had to stock shelves and start writing the outline of a term-paper at the same time, just because you didn’t want to see Harry.”
“I threw up.” Niall admits quietly. “I barely made it to the loo in time. I wasn’t just doing it to screw you over, Louis. I basically slept for thirty-two hours straight.”
“Shit, are you alright?” Louis asks, his sardonic tone fading into something more concerned.
“I’m fine.” Niall waves him off. “I’m not feeling great, but I’ll survive.”
“Then you can do deliveries today.” Louis says, pulling out a bin with a small stack of records.
“Ugh, do I have to?” Niall whines.
“Trust me, it’s the better job.” Louis tells him. “I have to dust, sweep, stock, and rearrange the shelves because Simon thinks that we could display the merchandise better.”
“Fine.” Niall sighs. “How many?”
“It’s just two.” Louis says, holding them up, along with the keys to the car that Simon has them use for deliveries. It’s hideous, covered in adverts for the store, but at least it runs well. “You know the drill by now. Don’t leave them if nobody answers the door, and, luckily for you, everything has already been paid for over the phone, so you don’t have to worry about handling cash.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Niall groans, taking the records.
“Deliver this one second.” Louis says firmly, pointing at the bottom record. “The guy pissed me off, so he should have to wait.”
“Whatever.” Niall sighs, taking the keys and heading back out of the shop.
The second address is some kind of warehouse that seems to have been converted into several smaller containment units. Niall thinks that they’re probably condos or something. Rich people seem to get a kick out of living in things like that now. Barns and warehouses and factories all get turned into homes for people with too much money, and too little sense. He remembers Harry rambling on about it one afternoon while they were on the floor listening to ‘Yellow Submarine’. It was something that he’d read about in some architecture rag for school.
Apparently it’s also something he knows about first hand. The huge bloody door to the second address slides open after Niall knocks on it, and there is none other than Harry. If that weren’t enough, he’s shirtless under his standard dungarees, revealing a multitude of tattoos that Niall hasn’t seen before. “Niall!” Harry beams.
“I’m going to bloody murder Louis.” Niall growls.
“It was the only way to get you to come see me.” Harry says quietly. “I asked him to meddle.”
“Lovely.” Niall says dryly. “So you both manipulated me then. Brilliant.”
“Will you please come in so that we can talk?” Harry asks gently.
“To your freaky warehouse of death?” Niall scoffs. “No thanks.”
“It’s a studio, you git.” Harry sighs. “This is where I paint. Just come in.”
“I just came here to drop this off.” Niall huffs.
“My hands are covered in paint.” Harry points out, holding his arms up as evidence. “Put it on the table over there for me?”
“You’re the fucking worst.” Niall mutters, heading into the studio towards the cluttered mess of a table. No sooner has he placed the record on the table than he hears the door shut. He whirls back around and growls out, “Open the door, Harry.”
“Not until you talk to me.” Harry says adamantly, folding his arms. Apparently the paint on his hands no longer bothers him, seeing as he’s slathering it on his biceps now.
“I literally threw up yesterday at just the prospect of having to talk to you, Harry.” Niall bites out. “I don’t want to talk. I just want to go.”
“So that’s it?” Harry asks. “You just don’t want to be friends with me anymore?”
“I want some time and space until I stop feeling like such a bloody idiot for making a stupid mistake.” Niall snaps. “And I’m sorry if you’re mad at me, but there’s nothing you can say to me that I haven’t already yelled at myself over the last two days. I’m just not ready to talk right now.”
“So I’m not allowed to have an opinion on this whole thing then?” Harry questions, stalking forward with a frustrated expression.
“I already know your opinion, Harry.” Niall groans. “I felt the way that you went completely still when I did it. And then you didn’t say anything before I left. Your opinion was made perfectly-”
He’s cut off by the completely startling press of Harry’s lips against his own. It ends almost as quickly as it had started, and Harry pulls back with crinkled brows. “It’s not that easy to react when you’re not expecting it, is it?” he asks quietly. “When someone just suddenly does it, even if you want it, it takes a minute to get your bearings. You were gone before I even processed what happened. You didn’t give me a chance, Niall.”
“I panicked.” Niall mumbles. “I didn’t even mean to do it. I just got caught up in the adrenaline, and the residual high from the show, and I did it without thinking.”
“So you didn’t want to kiss me?” Harry asks.
“No.” Niall says quickly. “Shit, I mean- I- I don’t know!”
“It’s not a hard question, Niall.” Harry says softly. “Did you want to kiss me?”
“I don’t know.” Niall repeats weakly.
“Niall-” Harry says again, pressing in close again until Niall is backed up against the table. His lips are hovering only millimeters from Niall’s, and he asks, “Did you want to kiss me?”
“Yes.” Niall whispers. “But I didn’t want to want to kiss you.”
“Why?” Harry asks, his eyes flicking up to Niall’s from where he’s been staring at the lilac haired boy’s lips.
“Because I don’t want to mess this up.” Niall admits.
“If I want it, and you want it, then how would you be messing it up?” Harry questions.
“I don’t know if you want the same thing.” Niall mutters.
“Niall-” Harry sighs, his breath tickling over Niall’s lips in a way that makes him shiver. “I already kissed you once. I think it’s fairly safe to say I want it.”
“That’s- That’s not what I meant.” Niall murmurs. “I don’t just want to fool around, Harry. I- I like you, okay?”
“Do you think I’d be willing to owe Louis Tomlinson a favor if I didn’t like you too, Niall?” Harry asks, his lips stretching into a smile. “Do you think I’d have asked you on a date if I didn’t like you?”
“That- That was a- A date?” Niall stammers.
“Um, kind of. It was like a pre-date.” Harry explains. “I was testing the waters to see if an actual date was something you’d be comfortable with. It didn’t really go according to plan at all. Like, not even a little bit.”
“What was the plan then?” Niall asks.
“Well-” Harry hums. “First was the show, and we were going to stay sober. Other people messed that one up, not me. Then I was going to see if you wanted to get dinner. A real one, not fish and chips in a pub that we nearly died getting to. Sorry about that by the way. I don’t think I ever actually apologized for that. I wanted to talk to you about things besides music, to actually get to know you, and maybe see if you even liked boys before I embarrassed myself.”
“I have lilac hair, Harry.” Niall points out. “I think it’s pretty obvious I’m gay.”
“I don’t make assumptions about things like that.” Harry returns. “As I was saying, it’s not that I didn’t enjoy Saturday, because I did up until you left, but it wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”
“Things rarely go to plan around me.” Niall sighs.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t plan what we’re going to do next, and just do it.” Harry whispers, leaning in the last little bit until their lips seal together again. Niall doesn’t let himself go still this time, powering through the shock of it to kiss Harry back. It’s only his third kiss with a boy, and the first real one, but he thinks it’s pretty spectacular. It squashes down the nerves and uneasiness, obliterating them to make room for something else to settle in Niall’s gut in their place. Hope. Excitement. Joy. It’s the first time in weeks that he’s felt anything like these things.
It doesn’t last a long time, doesn’t get to the point where things turn heavy, but Niall still feels breathless when they break apart. He’s not sure when his arms found their way around Harry’s neck, but he’s glad for it, because the way they’re panting into each other’s mouths feels as important as the kiss did. Harry’s eyes are so much more beautiful this close, the swirls of green and grey and gold even more intricate than Niall had realized. “Was that okay?” Harry asks softly.
“Yeah.” Niall breathes out, nodding just a bit and giggling when their noses brush against each other. “But- But I have to get back to work.”
“Come back when you get off?” Harry requests.
“Yes.” Niall agrees immediately.
“Can I kiss you one more time before you-” Harry starts, but it’s Niall’s turn to cut him off with his lips this time. His fingers wind into Harry’s hair, tugging the brunet as close as he can get him. It lasts longer than it should, given the fact that Niall is technically on the clock, but he can’t find it in him to care much. Louis set this up, so he can work alone for a while.
“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Niall tells him when he finally finds it in himself to break the kiss. “I promise.”
“I’ll be counting the minutes.” Harry hums.
“Git.” Niall chuckles. “Don’t- Don’t change your mind before I get back, yeah?”
“Not a chance.” Harry says firmly, pecking another kiss onto Niall’s lips before moving aside. “Now get out of here before I get too caught up snogging you to let you go.”
“Yeah.” Niall sighs, pushing forward from the table towards the door. He doesn’t look back until he’s hefted the door to the side. Harry is staring after him with a soft smile, and Niall can’t help it when he propels himself back through the space, crashing into Harry and kissing him again.
This time is more intense, an energy crackling through Niall’s skin that drives him onto his tiptoes to exert a bit more dominance. He’s not sure how this part is actually supposed to go, never having been able to stomach the thought when he kissed girls to get to this point, so his tongue is tentative when he swipes it along the seam of Harry’s lips. Harry parts for him easily, opening his mouth to suck Niall’s tongue into his mouth, flicking his own against it in a way that makes Niall moan before he can help himself. Harry’s hands slide down his lower back, resting just above the curve of his bum, and Niall knows that if this keeps going, getting fired is a real possibility.
He steps back suddenly, face a bright red. “Okay, I really have to go now.”
“Then you should probably do it.” Harry grins.
“Wait-” Niall says, grabbing a marker off of Harry’s table and uncapping it. He grabs ahold of Harry’s arm, making sure to avoid the paint, and scrawls out his number over the skin. “Text me the address, in case I forget it.”
“I can’t believe I had to trick you into coming here, and then make out with you, just to get your number.” Harry muses.
“I don’t make things easy.” Niall says with a smirk, turning on his heel and walking out the door without letting himself look back. He decides to let Harry get it, because if he turns around, he’s not sure that he has the willpower to keep himself from just repeating what he did the last time. He doesn’t look back towards the studio until He’s backing out with the car, and he’s unsurprised, but proud, to find Harry staring after him when he drives off back towards work.
He goes in silence, running the previous events through his head over and over until he reaches the shop and parks. He takes a minute to will the pink in his cheeks down to a manageable level, and then heads inside. Louis’ smug face is locked on him from the second that he gets back into the store, and Niall stalks up to him. “You’re a fucking cunt.” Niall huffs.
“I take it that things went well then?” Louis asks with a wolfish grin.
“What makes you think that?” Niall scoffs.
“You’ve got a little-” Louis says, turning Niall to the side and patting his arse. Niall squawks in protest, but Louis holds back up his hand to show that it’s covered in a light purple paint.
“Fuck!” Niall squeaks.
“Admit it.” Louis says firmly.
“Fine.” Niall sighs. “Yeah, it went well.”
“Good. I’ve got an extra shirt in my cubby that you can borrow.” Louis laughs. “It might smell a bit, but at least customers won’t know that you’ve been getting felt up.”
“I’m still going to get you back for manipulating me.” Niall mutters, heading towards the back.
“That’s fine!” Louis calls after him. “I’ll just shag Liam on the futon to get back at you for getting back at me!”
“God, I hate you so much.” Niall hisses before heading into the back to steal Louis’ shirt. He’s not sur how he’ll get his revenge yet, but at the moment he doesn’t really want to focus on that. He’d much rather think about how his lips still feel electrified, and how he’s going back to Harry’s tonight.
He knocks hard, maybe too hard considering that the door is metal. His knuckles are throbbing, but it fades quickly in the wake of the thrumming energy that’s coursing through his veins. It’s been building since he last left this place, and now, while he’s waiting for the door to slide open, it’s threatening to overwhelm him.
He’s not expecting what he sees when the door finally opens. He’s never seen Harry like this, freshly washed and wearing a t-shirt and a pair of cut off joggers. He looks soft, almost unbearably so, especially when his lips quirk up into a shy smile and he breathes out, “You really came back.”
“I told you I would.” Niall grins. “Took a bit longer than I expected, because I had to go back to the flat to grab a new jumper. Somebody ruined mine.”
“Sorry.” Harry says sheepishly, a light pink taking up residence on his cheeks. “I forgot about the paint.”
“Well you could have mentioned it when I was leaving. I’m going to have to pay Simon for the upholstery in the car.” Niall chuckles.
“I’ll pay for it, and I’ll replace the jumper.” Harry says quickly. “It’s my fault.”
“I won’t deny that.” Niall snorts. “Am I allowed to come in, or are we going to just stay here at the door all night?”
“Shite- Yeah, come in.” Harry mumbles, stepping aside. “Sorry.”
“You seem nervous.” Niall says when he walks inside, toeing off his boots.
“Well, that’s because I am.” Harry admits, trailing after Niall as he walks through the studio.
“Why is that?” Niall asks, turning round to face the brunet.
“I told you the second time we met.” Harry says quietly. “You have a way of catching me off-guard.”
“I told you I was coming back.” Niall repeats.
“I- I didn’t know if you really would, or if you were just saying that so that I’d let you leave without actually talking to me.” Harry mumbles. “I can’t ever get a read on you. You constantly keep me on my toes. And, like- I like that about you, I do, but it also makes me feel like I’m going mad whenever I try to figure you out.”
“I know the feeling.” Niall nods. “You’re not such an open book yourself, Harry.”
“I- I never learned to talk to people well.” Harry sighs. “I was very shy as a child. I didn’t- don’t- fit in with the people around me. Expressing myself never came easy to me, until I was ten, and one of my teachers put a paintbrush in my hand. It’s the only way I know how to show what I think and feel. Besides Zayn, nobody else has ever really understood me, and I’m- I’m not even sure if he actually did, or if I just wanted so badly for someone to, that I just pretended that he did.”
Niall steps forward, reaching out his hand, and intertwining his fingers with Harry’s. “Show them to me then.” Niall says softly. “I can’t promise that I’ll understand, art was never really in my wheelhouse, but I’d like to try.”
“It’s- It’s embarrassing.” Harry mumbles, eyes focused on where he’s digging his toes into the cement floor.
“Like I said, art isn’t really my thing, but it’s supposed to be seen, yeah?” Niall questions.
“It’s not that.” Harry says quietly, screwing his eyes shut and then taking a step forward, and then another, and another, until he’s leading Niall back through the place. Underneath the overhanging loft, there’s a whole row of canvases on easels, creating a sort of wall that blocks off a portion of the space. “It’s that everything here is a failure.”
“I doubt that.” Niall tells him, squeezing his fingers before he takes the initiative and steps around the makeshift barrier to get a look at the paintings. He’s not sure what they’re supposed to be. None of them have any defined shapes, but are instead focused around swirls of varying shades of single colors. One is purple, lavender, violet, plum, amethyst. The next is blue, cerulean, teal, cyan, azure. There’s another that’s grey, gunmetal, slate, smoke, steel. One is beige, and one is yellow, and one is pink. They’re all beautiful, but Niall doesn’t know what they mean, so he asks, “Will you explain them to me?”
“Promise not to laugh?” Harry asks. Niall nods, giving Harry’s hand another squeeze as reassurance. “They’re- They’re supposed to be you. This- The purple is your hair, your uniqueness. The blue is your eyes, your experiences. The pink is your lips, your gentle sweetness. The grey is the color of the jumper you were wearing when we first met, when my life changed. The beige is for the color you wore on Saturday, when I got new hope.”
“And what about this one?” Niall asks. “The yellow?”
“It’s how I feel when I’m with you.” Harry whispers. “But they’re all failures.”
“I think they’re beautiful.” Niall insists.
“They’re failures.” Harry repeats. “None of them capture it. None of them are right. When- When I look at you, I see more than I’ve ever seen before. This- Painting- Colors- It’s all I know, but when I look at you, I realize that I don’t know anything. Every hue and tone and shade of every color that I’ve devoted my life to using- They can’t express you. I’m not capable of expressing you. I can’t paint the universe that lives in your eyes, or the garden in every follicle of your hair. I can’t bring you into the world in a way that I understand.”
“Is that all you want?” Niall asks. “To understand me?”
“No.” Harry says, shaking his head. “Niall, you’re so much more to me than something to be defined or placed within the limits of what I can understand.”
“So am I just a new inspiration for a few paintings then?” Niall asks. “A temporary muse?”
“No.” Harry says quickly. “You’re an inspiration to try and live life outside of my paintings. You’re an inspiration to feel things that I can’t express. There’s nothing temporary about the way you’ve opened my eyes, Niall. What I feel about you isn’t fleeting. I haven’t thought about anything except you since we met, and I’m not sure I ever will again. You said that you don’t just want to fool around. Neither do I.”
“And what about once you finish these?” Niall asks, gesturing to the paintings. “What happens when you find a way to express whatever you need to express?”
“If I had a thousand lifetimes, I could never hope to capture what makes you, you, Niall.” Harry says softly. “I could master every medium, could become the greatest artist that ever lived, but none of it would be enough to confine you. There’s too much. You’re too much.”
“So what do you want?” Niall questions.
“I want to know you. I want to spend time with you. I want to be able to hold you, and kiss you, and love you.” Harry admits. “I want to someday, maybe, be a part of what makes you, you.”
“Why me?” Niall asks. “Why, out of everyone, would you want to be with me? I’m nothing special.”
“I disagree.” Harry says adamantly.
“You don’t really know me.” Niall mutters.
“I don’t have to know you to know that you’re special. I can see it. I can feel it in the air when I’m around you.” Harry says, stepping closer. “When I met you, I didn’t feel shy. I wasn’t scared to talk to you. Without even having seen your face, or heard your voice, I was comfortable around you. That’s never happened in my life. Not even Zayn ever put me at ease like you do, and you do it without even trying.”
“Were you in love with him?” Niall asks. “Zayn, I mean.”
“No!” Harry yelps, eyes widening in shock. “God no!”
“It’s a fair assumption.” Niall shrugs. “I- I asked Louis about him. He told me that Zayn was like you. He was artistic, and quiet until he was comfortable around someone, and gorgeous.”
“I’m not gorgeous.” Harry scoffs.
“I disagree.” Niall echoes, reaching up to gently touch Harry’s cheek. “I may have put you at ease when I met you, but from the second I met you, I feel like I haven’t been able to catch my breath, because you look like an angel. An angel covered in paint and wearing dungarees, but an angel nonetheless.”
“Is that what’s important to you?” Harry asks. “That I’m attractive?”
“Not in the slightest.” Niall hums, shaking his head. “Obviously, I like you because you have great taste in music.”
“Arse.” Harry huffs, rolling his eyes.
“I- I don’t have just one reason that I like you, Harry.” Niall smiles. “Every minute I spend with you is a new one. You being attractive and having similar musical leanings, those are nice bonuses, but they aren’t really that important to me.”
“And what is?” Harry asks.
“You don’t make me feel ashamed about who I am.” Niall answers. “I didn’t move here because I wanted to, Harry. I moved here because my parents kicked me out for being gay, and Liam was the only person I knew who was willing to take me in. For my entire life, I’ve been scared and ashamed, but when I’m with you, I’m not either of those things. You make me feel like it’s okay to just be me. I don’t have to hide any pieces of myself. Not anymore.”
“I never want you to hide any of yourself from me.” Harry whispers, leaning forward until their foreheads are pressed together. “I want to see every piece of you for what it is.”
“You may not like everything you see.” Niall mutters.
“It’s not about the individual pieces.” Harry says softly. “It’s about the whole. There’s a technique of painting called pointillism. The entire painting is made up of individual dots of color. When you look at a work up close, each dot seems like nothing special, but when you take a step back, the image comes into focus. It’s a work of art, created out of nothing more than dots. It’s individual pieces making up a whole, just like you. Each piece of you helps make you who you are.”
“You really want to try this?” Niall asks.
“I think it’s the only thing that I’ve ever really wanted.” Harry admits.
“Then you should probably kiss me again, before I lose my nerve.” Niall murmurs, his lips just barely brushing over Harry’s from the proximity between them.
“Promise you won’t run away this time?” Harry questions.
“Not unless you’re really bad at it.” Niall chuckles.
Harry must take that as a challenge, gripping onto Niall’s hips as he presses through the last bit of space between them. Their last kiss was nothing compared to this one. It’s desperate and hungry, passionate and unrelenting. It’s heaven.
Harry’s hands shift to the back of Niall’s thighs, a gentle pressure urging him until he gets the idea and lets Harry lift him up. His arms wrap around the brunet’s neck instinctively, making sure that their lips never part as Harry carries him further back into the studio, and up a set of stairs to the loft area.
Harry kneels slowly, laying Niall down on his back on top of something soft. Niall breaks the kiss to look back and finds himself giggling. “Why do you have a bed in your studio?” he asks.
“I kind of live here.” Harry mumbles. “After Zayn left, I didn’t want to try and find a roommate, so I just moved my stuff here, and this is where I live now. It has almost everything I need. It has a bathroom with a tub, a heating and cooling system, and there’s a makeshift kitchen. The builder ran out of funds when they were converting it into condos, so it’s not much more than bare bones, but I don’t really need more. Does this bother you?”
“No. It fits you pretty well.” Niall hums. “You should know though, I’m not going all the way with you tonight. I- I’ve never been with anyone before, and I don’t plan on my first time being the first night I start something for the first time. That’s too many firsts for one night.”
“I wasn’t thinking that we’d go all the way.” Harry replies. “Just let me know when I’m going too far, and I’ll stop.”
“Alright.” Niall nods.
“Are we already at the ‘too far’ point?” Harry questions.
“No.” Niall tells him. “My ‘too far point’ is pretty much just- You know- All the way.”
“Then- Can I do this?” Harry asks, curling his fingers in the hem of Niall’s jumper.
“You can even take it off of me if you want.” Niall smirks.
“You think you’re very witty, don’t you?” Harry asks with a roll of his eyes.
“It’s part of my charm.” Niall muses, arching his back to help Harry in the process of jumper removal.
“Oh, wow.” Harry breathes out once Niall finishes tugging the jumper over his head. “I wasn’t- Wow.”
“You weren’t what?” Niall asks, his arms coming up instinctively to cover his chest as Harry stares at him.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be so muscular.” Harry admits shyly. “The jumpers make you look so small. I thought that you’d be more- Delicate, I guess.”
“Oh.” Niall sighs. “Is it bad?”
“No. I like it.” Harry says quickly. “It just wasn’t what I was expecting. Can I- Can I touch you?”
“Only if you take your shirt off too.” Niall returns.
“Gladly.” Harry grins, leaning back and stripping off his own shirt quickly. “I actually hate wearing clothes.”
“Do you paint in the nude then?” Niall asks.
“No.” Harry laughs. “It’s hard enough getting paint off my forearms. I learned the hard way that scrubbing it off of other places is not fun.”
“Of course you did.” Niall snorts.
“Stop making fun of me, Niall.” Harry huffs, leaning back down to capture Niall’s lips in a searing kiss, driving him down into the mattress. Niall’s hands immediately find Harry’s chest, sliding the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin. He doesn’t have nearly as much hair on his chest as Niall does, and the lilac haired boy loves the way it feels under his palms.
His thumbs catch on Harry’s nipples, and the brunet lets out a low groan, his hips rolling down against Niall’s. Niall hadn’t even realized how hard he was until Harry’s erection grinds against his through the layers of their pants and trousers, making sparks explode underneath his skin. He gasps into the kiss, letting Harry’s tongue push in and obliterate every stream of coherent thought Niall had left.
They kiss until Niall feels lightheaded from lack of oxygen. Harry seems to know instinctively when they’ve reached that point, his lips trailing from Niall’s mouth down his jaw. He brushes over a spot that makes Niall’s spine tingle and his lungs let out a high pitched whine. Harry latches onto that spot, sucking hard and worrying it with his teeth like he usually does with his own bottom lip. It feels mind-blowing, and Niall doesn’t even mind that he’ll probably catch all kinds of shit in the morning for the mark that’s sure to be there already.
His hands move down from Harry’s chest, feeling their way over the planes of Harry’s abs. A part of him wants to take his time exploring, but it’s not really the one in control right now. Instead of taking his time, he continues the skating glide of his hand until he gets low enough to wrap his fingers around the erection tenting Harry’s shorts. “Fuck!” Harry hisses, stopping his assault on the spot behind Niall’s jaw to rut into Niall’s hand. “No. I want to get you off first. If- If that’s alright.”
“Yeah- Yeah, that sounds good.” Niall murmurs, giving Harry’s cock another tug before he lets his hand drop away.
“You’re sure?” Harry asks tentatively. “I don’t want to mess this up by going further than you’re comfortable with.”
“I’m sure.” Niall says firmly. “I’d let you know if I wasn’t comfortable with it, Harry.”
“I want to taste you.” Harry whispers, kissing his way down Niall’s neck towards his chest. “Can I suck you?”
“I- Yeah.” Niall chokes out, what little blood was left in his brain rushing down to his cock where it’s straining against his jeans.
“Thank you.” Harry murmurs, though Niall isn’t sure why. He’s the one who should be grateful right now, and he is.
Harry’s lips are blazing a slow trail down Niall’s chest, but his hands arrive at their destination first. One hand wraps around Niall’s hip, grounding him to the mattress, while the other splays over his erection. He palms at it slowly, making Niall groan and writhe under the touch. It feels like his skin is about to burst into flame, and he loves it.
The button comes apart on Niall’s jeans, and Harry asks, “Still sure?”
“Harry!” Niall whimpers in frustration.
“Just checking.” Harry mumbles, leaving a trail of feather light kisses on Niall’s stomach as he pulls down Niall’s zip. “Can I take these off?”
“Please.” Niall keens. Harry lifts Niall’s legs up onto his shoulders, sliding the constricting jeans off of his legs. He’s laid bare, completely exposed to Harry. He’s never done this before, never been so vulnerable, but the way Harry looks at him like he’s the eighth wonder of the world makes him feel okay with it.
“Have you ever done this before?” Harry asks, letting his fingers trail up the inside of Niall’s thighs.
“No.” Niall admits. “I- I’ve never even kissed a bloke until you.”
“Oh.” Harry breathes out. “I’ll make it good.”
“Pretty sure that wouldn’t take much with my lack of experience.” Niall chuckles, the amusement in his voice dying in his throat when Harry’s hand wraps around his length. “Christ!”
Harry leans back in, Niall’s legs dropping off of his shoulders, and presses a kiss to the very tip of Niall’s cock. It’s barely anything, but it makes Niall’s eyes roll into the back of his head and lightning crackle over his skin. Harry kicks it up another notch, dipping his tongue into Niall’s foreskin and running it in a slow circle around the Irish lad’s head.
If Niall thought that the languid pace would continue, he’s proved wrong immediately. Harry’s mouth closes around Niall’s cock, and he sucks hard as he lowers himself further until his lips meet his own hand, still wrapped tight around Niall. His cheeks hollow out as he starts moving, his hand pumping in time with the bobs of his head, and Niall has to screw his eyes shut. He’ll cum in seconds otherwise, the visual stimulation nearly as overwhelming as the tactile.
Closing his eyes doesn’t do him much good though, and after only a few minutes, he feels his orgasm reach the point of no return. He lets his eyes open back up, drinking in the sight of Harry swallowing him down before he reaches out to tug on a loose strand of Harry’s hair that’s fallen out of his bun from the exertion. “Harry- I- I’m gonna- I’m-” Niall chokes out, trying to give Harry a warning. He’s inexperienced, not ignorant. “I’m gonna cum.”
Harry bats Niall’s hand away, lacing their fingers together where he presses it against the mattress, and doubles down his efforts. Niall holds back as long as he can, but soon enough, he’s spilling into Harry’s mouth while his vision goes white. His whole body goes rigid, tightening like a rubber band about to snap, and then he goes limp as Harry pulls off.
“How was that?” Harry asks.
“Bloody life changing.” Niall slurs out. “Come here.”
“You don’t have to.” Harry mumbles.
“I want to.” Niall says, pushing through his afterglow to make his tone sound as sure as he is. Harry crawls up Niall’s body, and the lilac haired lad dips his fingers into Harry’s pants, just above the curve of his arse. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah.” Harry breathes out in confirmation. That’s all the permission Niall needs, and he pushes down Harry’s shorts and pants until he springs free.
“Is it alright if I just-” Niall asks, moving his hand around to grip Harry’s cock.
“Yes.” Harry nods. “Just let me-”
He flops to the side, pushing his clothes farther down until he can kick them off. “Need to lay down, or I might fall on you.” Harry explains, rolling onto his side.
Niall mimics the motion, and then gives Harry’s cock a languid tug. Harry groans, leaning back in to catch Niall’s lips. It’s a lot to focus on so soon after cumming, but Niall is determined to make this good for Harry too, so he forces his brain to concentrate. His lips move against Harry’s slowly, a contrast to the quick pace he’s setting on Harry’s dick. Harry’s hips are giving shallow little thrusts in time with Niall’s hand, and it’s not long before Harry is panting and whining into Niall’s mouth.
“Come on.” Niall murmurs. “I wanna see how gorgeous you look when you cum.”
“Fuck- Niall!” Harry moans, crashing his lips back into Niall’s as he starts to cum between their bodies, his fingers gripping tight in Niall’s hair as the Irish lad works him through it.
They roll onto their backs, breathing heavily as they both bask in what’s just happened. Harry’s fingers knit themselves between the ones of Niall’s clean hand, and it’s calming, grounding. It reminds him that this is more than just getting off to Harry too. “Give me a minute, and I’ll go get a flannel.” Harry mumbles, sounding just as blissed out as Niall feels.
“Thanks.” Niall hums. “’S getting a bit cold.”
“Yeah, that part’s not so fun.” Harry chuckles. He rolls over to peck a kiss onto Niall’s cheek, and then lifts himself off of the mattress. He pads off down the stairs, and returns a few minutes later with a damp cloth for Niall to clean up with. “Do you want me to-”
He leaves the question open ended, a light blush on his cheeks. Niall thinks it’s particularly funny after what they’ve just done. He giggles and shakes his head, grabbing the flannel and cleaning up the mess from his stomach and chest. After he’s set it aside, he looks back up at Harry, and the realization dawns on him that he doesn’t really know what’s supposed to happen now. “I- Um- Do you want me to go now?” he asks tentatively.
“I was hoping you’d stay over.” Harry mumbles shyly.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” Niall smiles, unable to stop his own blush from spreading over his face and neck. “I was hoping you’d want that.”
“Then, I guess I’ll just-” Harry muses, climbing into the bed and settling down. “Big spoon, or little spoon?”
“Can we just do this instead?” Niall asks, wrapping himself around Harry’s side, and laying his head on the brunet’s shoulder.
“Perfect.” Harry hums, draping his arm over Niall’s chest. “Do you want to sleep, or talk?”
“We can talk for a few minutes.” Niall says softly, though he’s already beginning to feel tired now that he knows he doesn’t have to navigate his way back through London at midnight. The orgasm also didn’t really help his energy levels.
“Why lilac?” Harry asks, bringing his hand up to brush through the hairs at the base of Niall’s neck.
“It- It was my version of a ‘fuck you’ to my parents after they kicked me out.” Niall admits. “It was me saying, ‘I don’t care what you think. I’m still proud of who I am.’ Only, I did it with hair dye, because we aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
“Oh.” Harry says quietly. “I like it even more now.”
“Why the dungarees?” Niall asks.
“They cover more skin without the risk of ruining something expensive by wearing one of my shirts.” Harry explains.
“Is it weird that I think they’re kind of hot?” Niall asks.
“No.” Harry giggles. “Actually, yes. Should I just wear those next time we go out then?”
“Nah. I really liked the jeans.” Niall says, pressing his grin into Harry’s neck. “The dungarees don’t do your arse justice.”
“If I asked you on another date, a real one this time, would you say yes?” Harry asks softly.
“Yes.” Niall replies immediately. “Let’s try and do it right this time. I won’t run away, and you don’t make me embarrass myself in front of an audience.”
“We’ll see.” Harry chuckles.
“’M sleepy now.” Niall slurs out, curling tighter around Harry. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“Good night, Niall.” Harry says, reaching over and touching a button at the base of the column by his bed to shut out the lights in the entire place.
“Night, Harry.” Niall says, halfway to sleep already. For the first time in as long as he can remember, he falls asleep happy, a smile on his face and good dreams of Harry playing on the back of his eyelids.