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Harry opened his eyes at the gentle chime of his phone.
He had been awake for some time now, but had stayed lazing around in bed. Ever since the break began, he had been making sure to cherish every single morning - whether it was to sleep in, or get up early to watch the sun rise, he valued having the choice to do either. No longer was he being woken up by somebody’s arm across his face (Liam, one time that they had fallen asleep on the couches of the tour bus), or by loud music (Louis’ idea of a quality wake-up call), and he couldn’t get enough of it.
As much as he didn’t want to get out of the warm bed and embrace the slightly chillier air in the bedroom, he extracted himself from under the covers gently, an inch of skin at a time. He sat himself up on the edge of the bed and lay his feet flat on the soft carpet underneath, digging in his toes. The morning light was streaming in beautifully through the huge windows of his bedroom, overlooking the garden, and he had to blink and allow his eyes to adjust before he could open them fully. He combed a hand through his hair, trying to push it to one side - he had slept in an odd position, it seemed, and his hair was flattened on one side and ridiculously tangled on the other.
He pushed himself up and leapt over to the desk to check the phone. His heart sank a little when it was just a notification from Twitter. He dismissed it and plodded downstairs to make breakfast. It was just past ten and his stomach felt a little hollow, despite last night’s amazing dinner.
He sat down in the kitchen, looking out at Beverly Hills and the city sprawling out beyond it, and ate his toast and drank the glass of mango juice. He couldn’t help but rue the Twitter notification, because he had sort of been hoping that it was something else. Someone else, to be exact.
He had been in touch with most of the boys since their last performance on the X Factor, the beginning of the break - even just texting sometimes, or calling to ask them how they were. He had skyped with Louis and he had been introduced to Freddie over the camera, and he had spoken with Liam who was working on something. He had even emailed Zayn, and Zayn had replied, and it seemed like they were rebuilding what they had lost all those months ago. The one person that Harry hadn’t spoken to in almost three months was Niall.
He was backpacking around the world; that Harry knew, for one because Niall had threatened to do just that before the hiatus, and secondly, he could guess from fan photos cropping up from places like Vietnam that Niall was on the move. Niall looked good in those photos. His hair was growing out and becoming more and more brown, and he was wearing his glasses more often than not. He was also tanning, and he looked a little rugged and very handsome, Harry thought.
He didn’t know Niall’s whereabouts at the moment. He could be anywhere, for all Harry knew. He was keeping off his phone, off social media, off anything that might distract him from seeing the parts of the world that he had missed when they were on tour. As admirable as Harry found that, he couldn’t help but wish that one day, Niall would actually pick up his phone or answer his texts. Harry missed Niall like no other.
As much as he tried to force Niall out of his mind, he couldn’t quite get there. Niall occupied a huge space in his consciousness - mostly because over the last five years of One Direction, they had grown incredibly close. They had seen each other almost every day, and had done so many shows together all over the world that it boggled Harry’s mind a little to comprehend. They had done so much together over these five years, and now Harry was barely hearing anything from Niall and that hurt . He knew that he couldn’t blame Niall for it, of course he couldn’t. When they were touring, they didn’t exactly get out much, and they hadn’t gotten to see everything that they would have liked to were they on just a regular holiday. But work was work, and it had to come first more often than not, unfortunately. So they had missed a lot of the world, on tour. And now, Niall was making up for that as best he could, backpacking around the world with his friends from Ireland, just like they’d always dreamed of doing when they were in school together.
Harry went through his day as usual, which meant that he painted. He had recently gotten into painting, for reasons he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He had been fair at it back in school, but hadn’t touched a paintbrush ever since the X Factor. Now, he had taken the liberty of buying an actual easel, complete with five canvasses of assorted sizes and a huge pack of oil paints. Although the shop assistant had recommended “starting small with pastels or watercolours”, but Harry had insisted that he was ready for the oils.
He was working on a classic picture of a fruit bowl. He had actually set up a model for himself - a low wooden bowl, heaped with oranges, bananas, grapes, and a huge mango. He was trying some techniques that he found online, namely “informal brush strokes” and “paint mix irregularities”. He blotted the paint onto the canvas, taking the brush strokes in different directions and letting longer streaks stay. He worked in his favorite black skinny jeans and a long, loose white button-down, with the sleeves rolled up to just past his elbows. He thought that it would be a nice memento afterwards, to have a shirt with patches of paint on it to remind of him of this era in his life. A second easel, if you will.
He kept his music playing as he painted, and took breaks to get himself a glass of juice or something to nibble on.
At about three PM, when Harry was on another break, he had an idea.
Niall wouldn't answer his phone, but he was travelling with his cousin Willie, who might. Harry bounded to his bedroom where he had left the phone (he didn’t like to be distracted while he was painting) and scrolled feverishly to the bottom of his contacts. He found Willie and pressed dial. He didn’t know what he was going to say. What was there to say?
The phone rang exactly five times before he picked up, every silence in between rings seeming longer and longer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, erm, Willie, are you alone?”
“Yeah...sorry, who is this?”
“It’s Harry, hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time - oh shit, what time is it where you are?” Harry answered. He really hadn’t thought this through properly. He had no idea where they were, or what the time was there.
“Oh, Harry, no, not at all, how are ya?” Willie answered jovially, “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, um, well…” Harry trailed off. “Where are you?” he finally mustered.
“Vietnam at the moment, but we’re off to Japan the day after tomorrow,” Willie replied, “Niall’s proper excited. We all are.”
“Niall!” Harry exclaimed before he could stop himself, “how... is he alright?” he asked, reeling in his excitement.
“He’s fantastic, loving every second of it, but his phone’s been on airplane mode for almost three weeks straight now, we lost him the other week in a crowd and we couldn’t call him…” Willie laughed.
Harry laughed softly. He wasn’t even surprised - trust Niall to go through Hell and back in an effort not to be disturbed by anybody.
“Right, erm, listen, Willie,” Harry began, another idea popping into his head. He voiced it before it was even fully formed. “D’you think Niall would...mind...if I, erm, was to show up in Japan? I really miss him, want to surprise him,” he let on, quietly. There was nobody else in his home but he felt like he was being overheard nonetheless. “Just to see him, maybe do some sightseeing together, y’know?” he clarified.
“I think he’d love that, Harry,” Willie chuckled over the end of Harry’s sentence, “I think he could do with some non-Irish friends. He misses you too, I think,” he continued, and Harry’s heart beat a little faster, “I think he bought you something yesterday actually, said it was something that you’d really like, didn’t get to see what it was though.”
Harry’s heart swelled, but he tried his best to concentrate on the plan. “Right, so, erm, where in Japan are you guys headed? Where are you staying, so I don’t get the same place? Wouldn’t want to get too close for comfort,” Harry asked sheepishly.
“Not at all! We’re landing in Tokyo, like I said the day after tomorrow, we’re staying at the, hold on, let me check,” Willie said and Harry heard sounds of walking and papers rustling, “we’re at the Grand Palace Hotel, I think this is actually the nicest one on our whole trip, Niall wanted to splash out a little on this one. Let go of the rugged backpacker lifestyle for a little while,” Willie explained.
“Right, right,” Harry muttered as he scrambled for a piece of paper lying on his desk and scribbled this down, “so when exactly are you arriving, do you know? Don’t worry if you haven’t got the exact time or anything.”
“I don’t know, oh hullo Niall,” Willie said a little louder, hinting at Harry that Niall was in earshot. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He thought he hear Niall’s voice, asking Willie who it was on the phone.
“It’s me mam,” Willie answered him with absolute confidence, his accent sounding very Irish all of a sudden, “so, mam, we’re arriving in Tokyo at six, that’s Japan-time, that’s ten in the morning for you, so you can call again then, alright? Check that we’re still alive and all that.”
Harry pressed his hand to his mouth to stop the giggles from escaping. “Yes, great, see you then,” he managed, and hung up quickly, the fit of giggles now consuming him. He had two days to get to Tokyo. He was going to see Niall. In Tokyo. And they’d probably spend a day together, exploring. His heart could barely take the excitement.
He opened his laptop and googled “hotels in tokyo” at an astonishing speed. He was going to see Niall.
*
Harry held his breath, like he always does, when the jet took off. He had initially considered just flying with United or something, but he figured that he didn’t want to take any chances of being recognized and then having to sit through an 11-hour flight of whatever would follow - he had encountered some pretty dedicated and intense fans in his career so far. He had called for a private jet, feeling very lucky and humbled to be able to do so, and was flying out now, with one day until Niall and his gang were due to arrive. He reckoned that he could settle in and get his bearings, learn his way around, so that when Niall arrived he could whisk him around Tokyo with more ease than if they were both completely lost.
As the plane hummed, Harry couldn’t not notice the quiet. He missed the boys. They had gotten up to some pretty crazy shenanigans on many a private jet flight, but now it was just Harry and the drone of the plane around him. It was relaxing, not having the almost full-time giddiness of touring tiring you out every day, but it was all in good company and that’s what had made it what it had been. That’s what caused the little pang of nostalgia that he felt now.
Once they reached cruising altitude, he got up and went to check out the mini fridge. The selection was a little disappointing - there was nothing iced and coffee-based - but he settled for a diet coke. As he sat in his seat, listening to music and sipping from the can, he thought about what was going to happen, in a little more than 24 hours. Even the prospect of hearing Niall’s voice for the first time in three months was almost alien to him. He could still imagine it and hear it in his head, but he suspected that due to his company, Niall might have gotten more Irish. The very idea of seeing Niall, in all his glory, his face and his hair and how he carries himself, threatened to skyrocket Harry’s heartbeat. One of his best friends, who he had heard nothing from in so long. He could barely contain the excitement but willed himself to keep calm.
They landed in Tokyo at almost seven in the morning, sharp. The time difference messed with Harry’s head, and he couldn’t quite comprehend the whole flying-backwards-but-into-the-future thing. International travel was crazy. He exited the plane, the chilly and cloudless March morning admitting him. There was a car waiting for him outside the jet, and he hauled the one suitcase and shoulder bag that he had packed into the boot. The bonus of arriving this early was that there were no paparazzi lurking behind the mesh fencing of the airfield, massive zoom lenses at the ready. This was mostly because he had kept this trip of his as much under wraps as possible. He didn’t need Niall finding out about his surprise visit whilst eyeing the tabloids, waiting at the tills in a supermarket; however, he doubted that he often featured in Japanese tabloids anyways, much less on the front covers. Maybe that was more of an England thing.
The drive to the hotel took almost an hour and a half. As they drove through downtown Tokyo, Harry gazed out at the city from behind the tinted windows. Everything was very tall, and he couldn’t understand most of the text that was flashed up on billboards and on the sides and fronts of buildings. The hotel that he had picked out for himself was the Shangri-La Hotel, which was about 20 minutes away from Niall’s by metro. Nobody knew anything about his stay, as he had signed with a pseudonym. Plus, it was so early in the morning that he figured there wouldn’t be many people around. School were in session, so the number of teen vacationers should be fairly low.
To be fair, he hadn’t exactly considered everything before he had called Willie. Or before he had pitched his idea. Or before he booked the hotel and the private jet. It was only after, when he was about to go back to his painting that the magnitude of what he was planning hit him. And it hit him like a freight train. He had conveniently forgotten what travelling was like, as a member of One Direction. The curious mix of paparazzi and the fans gathered outside airports, outside hotels, trailing him wherever he went. He had completely forgotten about that, having spent so long holed up in his home, only going out ever so often for shopping, or lunch once in awhile. Now, he had to face all of that again, and he realised that he might subject Niall to it, too. Niall had done a pretty good job of staying out of the spotlight these few months, and it only occurred to Harry now that he might ruin that. He forced the thought out of his mind. They would have a good time. He would keep Niall safe.
He arrived at the hotel without hitch, and was shown straight up to his room. It was a quarter to nine, and Harry realised that he hadn’t had breakfast yet. He thumbed through the room service menu. As much as he wanted to sample Japanese cuisine, he couldn’t quite stomach the idea of fish in the morning, as seemed to be the custom. He played it safe and called to order toast with assorted jams, which seemed to him like the tourist-friendly addition in the menu, alongside waffles and a full British breakfast. As he waited, he took a look outside - his room had a view of Tokyo. Which part, he couldn’t say. He wasn’t familiar with the city yet. The sky was blue, uninterrupted by clouds, and the city was coming to life right in front of his eyes. His breakfast arrived, and he ate on the small sofa stationed in front of the windows.
He spent the morning in the hotel room on his laptop, researching everything there is to know about Tokyo and Japanese culture. He cursed himself for not having the idea of going down to a bookshop back home to buy a guidebook - he loved being able to make notes in the margins, fold down corners and highlight interesting bits. He had to make do with TripAdvisor now, and he scrolled through, making notes on the pad of paper that the hotel provided. He also learned a few choice tourist phrases in Japanese, trying his very hardest to imitate how Google Translate pronounced them. He doubted that it was fully accurate.
A-ri-ga-to.
Wa-ka-ri-ma-sen.
Hai. Ii-e.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Willie D, 12:03PM
flight in from ho chi minh city arriving 7pm tokyo time, international airport. just abt to board. W
Harry, 12:03PM
See you there! H
*
Harry waited at arrivals. He was way earlier than necessary, but he didn’t want to miss them. He had opted for an inconspicuous look - none of the colourful, floral shirts that he was so lauded for. He had tied his hair up in a loose bun, and was wearing a dark blue jacket with black jeans and a white t-shirt underneath. He had also armed himself with a pair of sunglasses, but later had taken them off and stashed them inside his jacket pocket. Nobody else was wearing sunglasses, and he figured that he stood out enough already without them on. Nobody seemed to recognize him, but he had his security on standby regardless, dressed inconspicuously to match and stationed well away from him, but still in view. It was all about subtlety. There hadn’t been a need for them yet; keeping his Japan trip under wraps had been easier than expected, so far. He checked his watch, then the arrivals board. Niall’s flight had just arrived, it seemed, but it would probably be forever before he actually got out here. He waited, scrolling through Instagram, blissfully uninterrupted.
“Sumimasen?” came a quiet but confident voice.
He looked up, and immediately had to look down. There was a little girl standing there on his left side, probably no older than seven, wearing a baby pink tutu-skirt, a baby blue t-shirt and a brown jacket over the top. She was smiling up at him so earnestly, and clutching a magazine. Which was opened on a double-page One Direction poster. The photo (one from the Made In The A.M. photoshoot) was surrounded by colourful text, all in Japanese. She held up the magazine to him, pointing at the photo of his face. For extra clarification, she pointed at him, then his picture, then once more back at him, before lowering the magazine and staring up at him quizzically.
Harry nodded, and the little girl’s megawatt smile doubled in size and brightness as she floundered a little, wringing her hands and swaying from side to side. She whirled around and waved at who Harry assumed was her father. He smiled at her, giving a small wave back at her and Harry. She turned back to face Harry.
“What’s your name?” Harry asked her, squatting down to be on her level. She laughed and shook her head, so he had to improvise. He pointed at himself, and said his name quietly, in fear of anybody overhearing him. It didn’t seem likely - the airport was fairly empty, and everyone around them seemed to be occupied with something else far more interesting. He then pointed back at her with a questioning look, furrowing his brow playfully. He did this once more.
“Minami,” the girl replied shyly after the second try. Then, with a tremendously happy laugh, she rushed forwards to throw her arms around his neck, cuddling him like Harry imagined children might cuddle those huge Mickey Mouse mascots in Disneyland. She squeezed him tightly, then let go and turned around to run to her father to hide behind his legs. She peeked out ever so often, just to check whether he was still there, and Harry waved at her every time she did so, making a little game out of it. Soon after, who appeared to be the girl’s grandmother tottered through the arrival doors, and after some initial greetings, they made for the doors of the airport. Just before they got there, the little girl yanked on her father’s sleeve, and turned back around. She walked, with an intense purpose, back to where Harry was standing. She tapped him on the thigh, and when he turned around, she waved at him once more.
“Jaa mata!” the girl said quietly.
“Arigato,” Harry tried his best to pronounce.
“Arigato!” the girl giggled back at him. She turned around very fast, slipping a little on the tiles, and ran as fast as she could back to her father and grandmother. Harry smiled as he watched her go. As far as fan interaction goes, what had just happened had to be one of the best and sweetest experiences he’d ever had.
He checked the arrival board again. It had been just over 20 minutes since Niall’s flight had landed, and Harry was beginning to feel a little nervous, for reasons that he couldn’t quite fish out. Was it because he was very conscious of the fact that Niall might not actually be all that happy to see him? Bearing in mind that he had basically spent the last five years together with Harry, he could understand that he might want an extended break away from him. From all of them, and all of it. Harry didn’t want to in any way jeopardize Niall’s safety, or his well-being, or his positive, backpacking state of mind. All of a sudden, he felt very stupid, standing here in the arrivals hall, waiting for someone who didn’t know he was coming, and might not want to see him at all. He hadn’t been thinking about any of this, completely immersed in his blissful I’m-going-to-see-Niall bubble. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, but he looked up and willed with everything he had for them to go away. Because a steady stream of people had begun to trickle out of the sliding doors connecting baggage claim with the hall, and suddenly every face that wasn’t Niall’s blurred out seconds after he set eyes on it.
Harry scanned the crowd, looking for a blond head of hair. He found it.
Everything seemed to slow down as Harry’s mind kicked into overdrive. Niall looked good. No, good was an understatement. He looked handsome. Incredibly so. He carried himself with the same air of ease and confidence that he always had, but he looked healthier now, somehow. He was wearing skinny, tapered light grey sweatpants, and a dark blue, nondescript t-shirt with a short line of buttons at the neck. He was shouldering a white backpack, and carrying a large, bulging deep red sports bag. His skin was evenly tanned, and his hair was becoming more and more brown by the minute. God, his hair. It was tousled, as it always was, but there was something about it that in this moment looked so perfect to Harry. It looked roughened by salt-water, but he had definitely had it cut on the trip, because it wasn’t overgrown or scruffy. Willie fell into stride next to him, and said something that made him laugh. Harry’s heart threatened to burst at the sound of it - Niall’s laugh. He had missed it so much. He was coming closer. Harry could begin to distinguish individual words of conversation, popping out here and there from the gentle din of the arrivals hall as people greeted one another. Willie was scanning the hall, and eventually caught Harry’s eye with a smile. They were no more than fifty feet apart. Niall was busy looking down at a map he had been carrying tucked under his arm, tracing something with his index finger, muttering to Willie who was not listening but instead steering Niall towards Harry - thirty feet. Niall continued to look at the map to “figure out where the hell we’re going, Willie, because we haven’t got a clue. What’s the name of our hotel, d’you know which metro station it’s near?” Willie came to a halt, smiled at Harry, and nudged Niall. Ten feet apart.
Niall looked up at Willie, who didn’t meet his gaze. He followed Willie’s line of sight, confused blue eyes landing on Harry, who was threatening to spontaneously combust out of anticipation and nerves.
Niall’s face underwent a thorough metamorphosis - from confused to incredulous to dazed, settling at last on a huge smile that Harry had so missed the sight of.
“Hi,” Harry offered in a small voice, barely audible. Before he had the time to say anything else, Niall had dropped his bags and closed the gap between them, pulling him into a tight hug, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck and holding tight. Harry threw his arms around Niall’s waist, pulling him close. Niall smelled faintly like deodorant, and very strongly of spearmint, and the smell was absolutely intoxicating.
“Hi, missed ya,” he whispered into Harry’s ear.
Harry hoped to God that Niall couldn’t feel his heart practically beating out of his chest. Niall was happy to see him. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t disappointed. He was happy to see him. He had missed him. Harry felt a lump in his throat but this time, it had nothing to do with fear or anxiety. He pushed it down all the same. Now was no time for crying, even if they were happy tears.
*
The next morning, Harry practically catapulted himself out of bed to turn off his alarm. Today was the day of exploration of Tokyo with Niall. They had had dinner together last night, and Niall and Willie had recounted their adventures thus far, travelling the world together. They had been in Vietnam together with some more of their friends; the friends had, however, decided to skip the Japan leg on the account of expensive flights, and they would rejoin each other in Seoul, where they were headed after their two nights’ stay in Tokyo. That left a day and a half for Harry to spend time with them. Willie was taking both days to go just outside the city, to Kiyose, to meet up with some long-lost friends who had once been expats in Ireland but were now back at home in Japan, he explained. He would come back for the evenings and nights, so Niall wouldn’t have to be alone. They had chatted over a selection of some pretty amazing seafood, but called it a day early so that Willie could get up in the morning for his train.
Harry checked outside before getting dressed - it was a clear day, the sky was laced with more grey than it was yesterday but still blue on the whole, with clouds threatening to gather. He folded his black raincoat into his backpack for good measure, and threw in his wallet, headphones, camera, and a wad of paper, all filled with his scrawled notes on everything from metro lines to good restaurants. He shouldered the backpack, locked his door and hurried down the stairs. He made a quick stop by the breakfast buffet downstairs, to grab a banana and some seaweed, which he had fallen in love with last night at the restaurant, and which also seemed to be a breakfast staple in Japan. Good.
*
“Niall, d’you know the story behind the statue?” Harry asked. They were stood in front of the Hachiko statue at Shibuya station. It was about ten in the morning, and the area was very busy - not that Shibuya station is ever a particularly quiet place. They had stopped over at the side by the statue and were now observing it quietly.
“No?” Niall replied, turning to Harry, “tell me?”
“It’s very sad,” Harry warned before he began, “so, short version, which is incidentally the only version I know - it’s in memory of a dog that waited for his owner here at the station every day when he came home from work. Then, the owner died, but the dog kept waiting for him and eventually died, and he represents good values and things like that,” he finished. “They made a movie about it, but it was awful, don’t bother with it.”
“Oh,” Niall said quietly. He looked back up at the dog, now with a profound look of respect and awe. Harry looked over, and suddenly couldn’t look away. Because everything he has ever wanted was standing with him, here, in this moment, looking at the Hachiko statue. His heart swelled with happiness and love as he looked at Niall. He wanted to freeze himself in this moment in time forever, and the busy people rushing around them seemed to melt away. He felt like they were the only two people in the city. The only two people in the world. Looking at Niall felt like home, he realised.
They stood for a couple more minutes, before Niall seemed to almost snap out of a trance as he finally tore his eyes away from the statue and grabbed Harry’s hand, pulling him along.
“Shibuya crossing, Harry, let’s go!”
*
They stopped for lunch in Harajuku, at a sushi place that Harry had found on his internet explorations. What had excited him most about the place was the fact that it had iPad menus and a conveyor belt that delivered the food to your table, and by the time they got inside he was bursting with excitement.
They ordered a large variety of sushi to share, and ate it all. It had turned out that neither had really had a proper breakfast for this exact reason - so that they could stuff themselves with whatever good food they found on their way. Right after lunch, as they were exploring Harajuku, they stopped by a crȇpe stall featuring every imaginable topping, plus ones that they had never even considered. Harry was still full from lunch, but Niall went for one filled with wasabi ice cream and chocolate sauce. He had been considering the plain vanilla ice cream, but Harry had playfully scolded him for being boring so of course he had to prove him wrong.
“You know,” Niall said as he swallowed the first mouthful, “this isn’t half bad. It only tastes very faintly of wasabi. Try some?” he offered, smiling.
Harry nibbled on the edge of the crȇpe, where there was a tiny spot of the ice cream.
“That is actually not that bad. Might get myself one later, if we find another stall like this one,” he concluded. Before Niall had time to say or do anything, Harry dove in for a bigger bite of the crȇpe.
“Oi! Get your own!” Niall laughed.
A while after, after stopping at a 100 yen shop where Harry had bought himself a whole bag of items, including an array of pens, sparkly stickers, a variety of Japanese snacks (“For later!”), and some plastic coiled hair ties that he had seen back in L.A. but never bothered buying before. They also came across an ice cream stand selling black sesame seed ice cream, which Harry just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to taste.
“It doesn’t...really taste like anything? Maybe ever so slightly like sesame seeds, but really -”
“Harry! Harry, your tongue. It’s gone all black! Wait, let me take a picture…” Niall cackled as he dug out his phone.
*
Their next stop was the Meiji shrine. It seemed like a gigantic secret garden, right in the centre of Tokyo. Harry and Niall stopped at a distance from the entrance arch, and Harry dug out his camera to take a photo - the sun had come out for a moment, and he was determined to make the most of the natural light before it hid again behind the ever-thicker, ominously rain-like cover of clouds.
“This,” he said as he tried to frame the perfect shot, “is called the torii . I looked it up. Apparently, you’re not supposed to walk through the middle because that’s where the gods walk. You’re meant to keep to the sides.”
He pressed the shutter with a click, and Niall made a sound of approval. “You’ve really looked up everything, haven’t you Harry,” he laughed softly. “Take another one of me, yeah? One for the photo albums?” he chuckled as he took of jogging until he reached a reasonable distance from Harry. He was grinning larger than ever, and Harry took the photo.
They wandered through the evergreen forest, stopping now and again to take pictures or just look around. Eventually, they reached the actual shrine.
“Look, Niall! You can sign these little prayer plates, and then you hang them up there!” Harry exclaimed, jabbing Niall in the arm and directing his attention to the small booths laden with small rectangular wooden plates, pens, and string. “I’m gonna do one,” he smiled, and was over at an empty booth in record time.
He spent a long time trying to figure out what to write, what to pray for. Niall kept his distance, looking instead at the plates that had already been hung up on the large display. He found himself glancing around the courtyard, trying to think of something because he was going to leave his mark here, one way or another. His gaze landed on Niall, who was peacefully sat on a bench, people-watching, it seemed. He was smiling ever so slightly, and suddenly, Harry knew exactly what to write. He drew a large heart on his plate, and wrote “love” in the centre of it. He thought twice about it, but ended up signing his initials in the bottom corner, in the smallest script he could manage.
“All done,” he announced, bounding up to Niall after he had hung up his plate on the opposite side of the display.
They stopped by the giftshop, and Harry bought himself an amulet - a beautiful, bright red colour, symbolising good luck. “These are called omamori ,” he informed Niall as they were waiting in the line for the cashier.
*
The metro journey to the Tokyo Skytree took almost 50 minutes. Luckily, Harry and Niall managed to secure seats next to each other for the journey, and the gentle vibration and humming of the metro quickly lulled the very full Niall to sleep. His head tilted and tilted before it finally came to rest on Harry’s shoulder. Harry looked at Niall, and all of a sudden the happy tears were back. Spending the day exploring a new city with him had made Harry very conscious of one thing - he was very much in love with Niall. He couldn’t comprehend how he hadn’t understood this earlier; maybe it was because their on-stage antics - the bum slapping, whispering in each other's’ ears, slow dancing on one occasion - had become so normal to them. Spending time together didn’t feel like a date, mostly because usually there were at least two others with them. It was only now, when they had spent almost a whole day together, that he realised how in love with this beautiful boy he was. He planted a gentle kiss on the side of Niall’s head, one that he hoped could be mistaken for a nudge if Niall was awake. He continued his even breathing, and Harry tilted his head to rest against Niall’s.
When they reached their station and stepped out of the train, they were suddenly in the middle of a very packed crowd. It seemed like at least three large school groups were waiting on the platform, and were completely oblivious to the fact that people were trying to get off the metro and out of the station. And it was very loud - it seemed like every single person in the station was speaking at the same time. Harry glanced over his shoulder at Niall, and as he feared, was met by a look of mild panic from Niall.
“Don’t worry, Niall, we’ll be fine, we’re gonna make it out. Here, give me your hand, I don’t want to lose you,” Harry offered, concerned. He remembered Niall’s discomfort with large crowds, and willed that he would get him out as fast as possible. Niall grabbed his wrist before he had even finished his sentence, and squeezed tighter than ever. Harry wrapped his hand around Niall’s wrist and pulled him along through the throng of people, muttering “sorry”; he couldn’t remember the Japanese word, it had been fairly long and there had definitely been an apostrophe involved and in this moment it wouldn’t come to him. They climbed the stairs out of the station. The air was crisp and the pavement was wet - the clouds had finally rained.
Harry turned to Niall, and was relieved to see that he looked much better.
“Thanks,” Niall said in a small voice. Harry smiled at him and wrapped his arm around his waist.
“C’mon, let’s go to the stars,” he said quietly, steering Niall towards the Skytree. They walked like this the whole way; Harry’s arm around Niall’s waist, and Niall’s arm around Harry’s shoulders.
*
The elevator up to the top of the Skytree took just under a minute, and Niall had dug out his phone to try and figure out the speed at which they were going. They reached the top, exited the elevator, and Harry heard Niall gasp. The view was nothing short of incredible. It seemed like the whole city was at their fingertips, stretching out further than the eye could see. Dusk was setting in, dusting the city in an orange, almost fiery glow.
“Wow,” Niall said softly, eyes fixed on the horizon.
They stood in silence, staring out. There was nothing that could be said, nothing that could possibly take any meaning before this absolutely breathtaking picture in front of them. Harry felt Niall’s fingers curl around his own, and he returned the gesture. It didn’t seem odd or out of the ordinary in any way, not now when there were much bigger things to be concentrating on. He felt so incredibly small, in the best way possible.
“I love you, Harry,” Niall said quietly, not taking his eyes off the view, “and I’m glad you came here to surprise me. I erm, I have a gift for you, from Vietnam, that I still have to give to you,” he said as he detached his hand from Harry’s and proceeded to root around in his backpack. He pulled out a small paper bag and handed it to Harry.
“Sorry, it’s not wrapped or anything, but…”
Harry unravelled the bag and reached inside. He pulled out a very dark, almost black ring, with three small yellow stones set into a raised rectangular part.
“Niall,” he began, but was interrupted.
“I thought it looked a lot like that ring you have - that one!” Niall explained as he pointed to Harry’s left hand, where he was wearing the ring with three turquoise inlaid stones. “I thought it’d complement it nicely, and yellow because it’s the colour of happiness and good luck and all that,” he rambled on, not meeting Harry’s gaze filled with so much love.
“Niall - it’s lovely, thank you,” Harry smiled as he pulled Niall into a hug. He held him for a long time, just feeling the form of his body pressed against his own and thanking his lucky stars that he was here with him now.
“I love you too,” he whispered into Niall’s ear, and he felt Niall’s neck grow warm.
*
By the time they arrived back in the city centre, both were ravenously hungry. They agreed on having dinner back at Harry’s hotel, since it was marginally closer to the metro stop that they had gotten off at and Harry knew that the buffet there was pretty good - a balanced mix for the tourists and the locals, sushis, fish and nori side-by-side with Chinese dishes and french fries. They loaded their plates with a mix of everything, and went back for seconds.
Harry walked Niall back out into the lobby.
“See you...tomorrow? When does your flight leave?” Harry asked.
“Around eleven, I think,” Niall replied, staring intently down at the intricately patterned tiles.
“So, erm,” Harry floundered, “see you when you get back sometime?”
Before he had thought of anything else to say, Niall had rushed forwards, taken Harry’s face into his hands, and was kissing him full on the mouth. Gently, with such tenderness that Harry practically melted, despite being slightly taken by surprise. His lips were left in a pout when Niall pulled away abruptly.
“I’m...oh my God, I’m so sorry. I have to go,” he said, his voice sounding like he might cry, as he turned to go. It took only a few of Harry’s long strides to catch him and pull him back into another kiss. His hands settled at Niall’s hips and squeezing them lightly. Niall smiled into it before deepening the kiss, his tongue slipping into Harry’s mouth.
“Not here. My room?” Harry said breathlessly as he pulled away for a second. Niall nodded and grabbed Harry’s hand, leading him to the elevator.
They managed to keep it under control until they got inside Harry’s room. Niall pushed the door shut and Harry pinned him against the back of it, kissing him a lot harder now to make up for the elevator ride which they had shared with an elderly couple. He pressed against him so that every possible inch of his body was touching Niall, and let out a tiny moan when Niall slid his hands up his chest and into his hair, raking through it and pulling where it was tangled. Niall moved his mouth down to Harry’s neck and kissed the fiery-hot skin there while Harry pushed their hips together even more; he can never get close enough to Niall. Now Niall grabs the hem of Harry’s shirt and is pulling it off him - Harry let’s him - and proceeds to do the same with his own. Niall’s exposed skin feels hotter than the surface of the sun, and Harry digs his fingers into his back, earning a groan from Niall into his mouth.
“Bed?” Harry suggests as he pulls away for air.
“Yes,” Niall agreed, and Harry moved them over, stopping to take off his jeans before climbing onto the bed with Niall, who had just done the same. Niall took him by the shoulders and pressed him down onto the mattress, climbing on top of him to straddle his hips as he leant back down to meet Harry’s lips, their tongues instantly colliding, both moaning into each other’s mouths now. Harry’s hands found their way to Niall’s upper back, and he pulled him down so that their torsos aligned, Niall now completely on top of him. He slid his hands slowly down Niall’s sides until his fingers caught on the waistband of his boxers.
*
Harry wakes at 11 sharp and finds the space next to him empty. There’s a note on the bedside table.
Harry,
Had to catch the flight. So sorry I had to go, you looked so peaceful sleeping that I didn’t want to wake you. Thank you for everything. I’m not too good with words, but I want you to know that last night wasn’t meaningless. I really like you. A lot. This wasn’t just a fling. I want to be with you. I’ll be in L.A. in early April, can we pick up where we left off then?
Love you always,
Niall x