Harry comes in quietly, unannounced, his light footsteps attempting to hide his presence. And that’s when Niall knows something is up. Harry’s not the one to come in quietly. But he doesn’t say anything, instead only watching out of the corner of his eye as Harry creeps to the kitchen.
When he comes back out a minute later with a snack, Niall replies lightly with a little smirk, “Don’t eat too much or you’ll ruin your dinner.” Harry starts at this comment, almost dropping the yogurt and spoon in his hand.
Niall cocks his head at this movement, and Harry replies too loudly, “Niall!” Gripping the spoon tighter, he says more quietly, “I didn’t see you there.”
Niall only hums at this, not wanting to push him into talking about whatever’s got him all worked up. He slides over to the edge of the couch, leaving Harry’s favorite spot open. Harry’s eyes dart to the couch and then back, never looking at Niall. “I’m gonna go… eat in the kitchen,” he gets out. After receiving only a long stare from Niall, Harry adds, trying to sound convincing, “In the clumsy state I’m in, I’m just gonna drop yogurt everywhere.”
“Alright, Harry,” Niall says, but he sounds unconvinced, his eyebrows furrowing at the words. Harry steals a glance as he’s leaving the room, sighing as he watches Niall rub the back of his neck, deep in thought. Harry can’t look too long, knowing that every moment he spends with Niall only sinks the lump in his throat down further and further, practically choking him.
Niall gives him thirty minutes, not wanting to impede on Harry too much. But he knows none of this is good. When he peers into the kitchen, his eyes find Harry immediately. He’s reading a book. Well, supposedly reading a book. His eyes are glazed over, not even looking at the book but just above, his eyes seeing much more than the table before him. Very gently, Niall comes up to Harry, placing his hand against his shoulder lightly. “Dinner is gonna be ready soon, okay?” He lets his hand linger there a moment, his thumb tracing a circle at the top of Harry’s shoulder, feeling the tenseness loosen just a bit. But as Harry comes back to consciousness, he straightens back up and he’s as tight as ever. He just nods rigidly, his eyes boring into the knots in the wooden table.
“Harry, what’s going on?” Niall asks finally, worry thick behind his words. When he doesn’t respond, instead only giving Niall the most unconvincing shrug he’s ever seen, Niall continues on, already feeling lost. “Harry…. Just….” He lets his hand slide slowly down Harry’s back as he squats down, forcing Harry to catch his eye. “Talk to me,” he pleads, feeling the desperation behind his voice.
“Niall,” Harry croaks out, the word getting lost in his throat. “I… can’t.”
“Harry,” Niall scolds, his worry quickly turning into anger. “Whatever it is just tell me.” Niall pauses a moment, giving Harry a chance to respond before finishing, “Whatever is going on, we’ll work it out together.”
Harry shakes his head hard, his body suddenly shaking as he catches Niall’s eye. “You won’t want to be with me after this, I know it.”
“Harry!” Niall yells, knowing that this probably won’t help Harry’s nervousness, but awful ideas are flying through his head, things Harry must have done to warrant feeling so guilty. “Are ya… “ Niall stops, feeling the tears begin to well up behind his eyes before he blinks them away, hard. “Cheatin on me?” He lets out a shaky sigh, feeling the color draining from his face as he processes this thought. “Who is he?” Niall whispers, feeling so stupid, stupid for not seeing the signs, stupid for not noticing Harry’s distantness earlier.
“No!” Harry yells with such conviction that Niall’s thoughts stop immediately, instead only looking up at Harry wide-eyed. “I… “ He lets out another breath, his heart skipping a beat as he thinks about continuing on. “I registered…” Harry lets out a gulp as he looks away from Niall once more. “For the army.”
“Ya fuckin did what?” Niall stands up swiftly, anger taking over any sadness he had been feeling just a moment ago. “Are ya crazy, Harry?” Niall starts to pace around the table, his mind racing, imagining all sorts of gruesome ends for his boyfriend. “What were ya thinkin?” He swivels to face Harry now, his nostrils flaring as the room begins to spin. “Were ya thinkin at all?”
“Yes,” Harry says calmly, gently, trying not to let anger flash across his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for a few months, really.”
“A few months? And were ya ever fuckin plannin on tellin me?”
“Ni…” Harry stands up slowly, buying himself time to think through his words. “I didn’t want…” Harry’s voice cracks at this, his words soft. Clearing his throat, he continues, “I knew you’d be upset. I knew this would be the end of you and I and…” He looks up at Niall quickly and then away. “I wanted to be with you as long as possible.”
“The… the end…” Niall ponders the words, tastes them on his tongue, not liking the bitterness that it leaves. “Do ya want to break up?”
The reality of this whole situation hits Niall then, the thoughts knocking the wind straight out of him. “You’re not comin back, are ya?” Niall feels the tears well up again, but at this point, he doesn’t care.
“Niall, of course I don’t want to break up.” Harry exhales, his hands finding Niall’s jaw. “I just didn’t think you’d want to have a boyfriend thousands of miles away, that’s all.” Harry’s thumbs chase the tears sliding down Niall’s face, swiping them off as gently as they can.
“I do,” Niall chokes out.
“I’ll be back, I promise,” Harry responds, his lips finding Niall’s cheek as he tries to remember this taste of salt, the feeling of cheek against lips.
———
 And Harry does come back, like he says he will, about six months later for a couple of days off. Harry’s body comes back, his limbs intact with a minimum amount of bruises. But this isn’t the Harry that Niall remembers. Harry is carefree, fun, always cracking jokes instead of talking seriously.
But this Harry is quiet, lost in space, as if he left his mind on the battlefield. Niall tries to leave him alone, instead informing Harry about all that he’s missed: how their neighbors are getting married, how the bridge is out for construction, how the new developments are all coming up around town.
Harry is polite, trying to take in all the information Niall is telling him. But it’s a lot to take in: a lot he’s missed in less than half a year, time he can’t get back. Time he lost sleeping on the ground, listening for the next bomb to come to know when to run. All survival instincts running 24/7, trying not to think about anything other than the task before him… but now there was nothing. Just him and Niall, sitting on the couch together, eating takeout Chinese food as a celebration of Harry’s temporary return.
“Harry? Have ya been listenin?” Niall’s upset voice enters Harry’s memories, infiltrating the explosions, a leg being blown off, the body left in the ground to rot because it was just. Too. Late.
Harry doesn’t respond, knowing he can’t exactly say no, but he knows damn well he can’t say yes either. He pierces his lips together, pushing the sob down in his throat, stopping it from ever coming out.
“Harry?” Niall says, his voice softer now. Suddenly, Harry’s takeout box is being lifted from his hands, Niall’s hand gently finding Harry’s thigh. Â
Harry shudders automatically at the motion, slinking away from Niall’s touch. He blinks twice, coming back to consciousness to see his hands are shaking so hard it looks like he has Parkinson’s. No wonder Niall took the takeout away from him.
“Harry… Can ya talk ta me?” Niall’s eyes are soft, watching Harry carefully with a worried look he’s never quite seen before.
All Harry can do is shake his head lightly, bowing his head as he does so to avoid Niall’s eyes. “Then… can I put me arm around ya?” He lifts his arm up, waiting for the okay from Harry before he slides his arm around Harry, holding him gently. Carefully handing Harry back his food when he knows he’s ready for it, Niall says with a little smile, “Then we don’t have ta talk.”
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