#niallharry

(Except sometimes, in between gigs when he was lying in his bunk and Harry was lying above him. He’d think about it then, maybe. But he wouldn’t admit that to anyone, not even himself.)

In the following years, Niall almost kissed Harry again a few times. It’s not Niall’s fault, really, because Harry has a tendency to hang all over him both on-stage and off-stage, and it’s not always easy to pretend that he doesn’t think about it sometimes.

So there are a few moments over the years, backstage after gigs, in dark clubs surrounded by dancing bodies, in hotel rooms just as the sun is about to rise, that Niall thinks about kissing Harry. He doesn’t though, so it doesn’t really matter that the thought crosses his mind sometimes.

Then Zayn leaves, and things change.

The day Zayn tells them he’s leaving sucks for all of them. Louis leaves the room right after the words have left Zayn’s mouth, Liam gives Zayn a hug before he follows him to make sure he’s OK. Harry’s quiet, he’s not even looking at Zayn, and Niall just...

He doesn’t understand, because how could Zayn not love this, love what they do. Niall loves it so much he’s worried what’s going to happen once it’s all over, and here Zayn is, saying he wants to leave.

“Listen, you lads can still go on,” Zayn says, after he’s recovered slightly from Louis’ reaction, “It’s not like you need to stop just ‘cos I’m not part of it anymore.”

Niall nods his head, meeting Zayn’s eyes, and he can tell that this is what Zayn wants to do, can see it in his eyes. He nods again, and takes a deep breath, willing the tears that are threatening to spill over to stay put.

“No, I get it man,” he says, even though he really doesn’t, “You’ve gotta do what makes you happy.”

“Yeah,” Harry chimes in, “No point in doing something that makes you unhappy, right? If your heart’s not in it, then... yeah.”

“Lads, you have no idea what it means to hear you say that,” Zayn says, reaching out to rest his hand on Niall’s shoulder. “Listen, I should go pack, but like, I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Pack?” Harry says, confusion all over his face, “You’re leaving now?”

“Well, yeah, I thought-” Zayn starts, but Harry’s angry now, and he’s on his feet and-

“Tour’s barely even started and you’re just leaving?” he says, voice raising steadily, “You’re not even gonna stay ‘til the end of the tour? What the fuck, Zayn?”

“Harry, I’m not happy,” Zayn says, his voice close to shouting. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave now, or I’m gonna have a fuckin’ breakdown!”

“What about the fans, huh?” Harry spits, and he’s definitely shouting now, “They’ve already payed for the tickets, and you’re just gonna up and bail on them? That fucking sucks, Zayn!”

In that moment, Niall wishes he was anywhere but in this room. The tension between his two bandmates is killing him, and he just wants to go back in time to last nights gig, pretend like this isn’t happening. He’s purposefully not looking at any of them, staring down at his nails and picking at them. Please stop, he thinks.

“What about me, Haz?” Zayn shouts, making Niall finally look up at them.

“I...” Harry says, and something in his eyes shifts, goes soft where it had been hard. “Shit, you’re right, Zayn, I’m sorry, I don’t... I don’t know what the fuck came over me, I’m sorry.” Zayn still looks angry though.

“It’s whatever, man” he says, voice cold and edgy. “I’m gonna go pack, see you guys later.”

And then he’s opening the door and walking out, and Niall knows that he’ll see him again, knows he’ll see him later today even, but it still feels like he’s just walked out of Niall’s life, and it hurts.

Suddenly Harry’s sitting down next to him, and he looks shell-shocked. And Niall’s not proud of it, but now is one of those moments where he thinks about kissing Harry. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the same reason as always, or if it’s because of Zayn, or something else, but he feels it then, stronger than ever, the urge to kiss Harry.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Harry says, voice low, “I just got so angry, and I couldn’t keep it in. What if he hates me, Niall? Did you see his face? It looked like he hated me.”

“No one could ever hate you, Harry Styles,” Niall says, because it’s the truth, Niall can’t imagine anyone knowing Harry and hating him. He puts his arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulls him in so he can rest his head on Niall’s shoulder. They both let out shaky breaths.

“It’s all going to change now, isn’t it?” Harry asks, and Niall hasn’t heard his voice this vulnerable since before they released Take Me Home and Harry was freaking out over if it was gonna go as well as their first album.

“Yeah, probably,” Niall says, because he’s not going to lie to Harry, “change isn’t always bad though, Harry.” Harry lifts his head from his shoulder then, and looks at Niall. There’s something in his eyes that Niall hasn’t seen before, doesn’t know how to interpret.

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, “You’re right.” And before Niall knows what’s happening, Harry’s leaning in and capturing his lips in a soft kiss. Niall’s frozen for the first few seconds, not sure what to do. When Harry doesn’t move away though, he gets the picture, and he tentatively kisses back. He can feel Harry smile against his mouth, and he can’t help but smile as well.

And in that moment, Niall finally admits to himself that maybe he’s wanted to kiss Harry for a really long time.

They don’t really stop kissing, after that. That first night it’s just that, kissing, holding onto each other as their entire world changes around them. After that it starts going further, gets more heated. Until one day Niall is bent over Harry, pressing slow kisses over his tummy and thighs, and takes him into his mouth. That’s when Niall realizes that he’s hooking up with Harry. Frequently.

“Niall?” he hears from above him, and he raises his head to look at Harry. He looks so good like this, hair disheveled, slightly red cheeks. “You alright? You kind of just, stopped and stared at my knob.”

“Yeah, I’m...” he shakes his head, licks a stripe up Harry’s dick, “I’m good, sorry.” He takes him into his mouth again, and if Harry had anything more to add, it gets lost in between one moan and the other.

The thing is, they never talk about it. Neither one of them ever bring it up, both of them seemingly content to just keep it what it is. Niall hates it though, if he’s being honest. Because ever since he admitted that he wants to kiss Harry, he’s also had to admit that he kind of wants to hold Harry’s hand, and curl up with him after gigs and just cuddle. And he’s also realized that he smiles brighter at Harry than anyone else, always laughs louder at Harry.

Niall thinks he might be a little bit in love with Harry and it sucks, because as far as Harry’s concerned they’re only hooking up. And as far as Niall knows, Harry still hooks up with other people when they’re not together during breaks in the tour.

It’s not that Niall doesn’t want to talk about it with Harry, he’s just scared. Scared that Harry’s gonna look at him as if he’s grown a second head, tell him that he has to be crazy if he thinks Harry could feel the same way. Objectively, Niall knows that Harry would let him down gentler than that, but that doesn’t make it less scary. So they keep it up, finding dark corners backstage, sneaking into each others bedrooms after gigs, and it’s good, great even. Niall is so in love, and it doesn’t really matter that he can’t have all of Harry like he wants, he’s happy taking what he can get.

(Except it does matter, because it breaks Niall a little bit every time one of them leaves the hotel room after a late-night hook up, every time he sees Harry flirting with someone else. He’s OK though, really.)

Tour goes on, and Niall and Harry don’t stop. After the last gig in Sheffield, Niall brings Harry home, let’s him fuck him slow until they’re both panting, and Niall comes with Harry’s name on his tongue.

The next morning Niall’s nursing a hangover and Harry decides that putting on Marley and Me is a good idea. Niall throws a pillow at him during the saddest bit, and Harry coos and brings him in for a cuddle. Niall thinks he might like that even better than the previous night. Or maybe the two are tied. Niall’s not sure, all he knows is that he is head over heels in love with Harry, and it hurts because Harry doesn’t love him back, but it’s still OK, as long as he can do this sometimes, bury his head in Harry’s shoulder and just breathe him in.

Tour ends and promo season starts, and for a while, Niall and Harry are good. Niall thinks maybe there’s a chance that during the break they could try something real, thinks Harry might feel the same way.

It doesn’t stay great though, and Niall doesn’t know what’s changed, specifically, or why, but he can tell that it has changed. Something in the was Harry looks at him, maybe, or is it the way he touches him? Hugs him? Niall can’t pinpoint it, maybe it’s all of those, maybe it’s none of them. And even though it sometimes is the same, when Harry hugs him during Tattoo Roulette, or when he won’t let go of his hand after a high-five, it’s still definitely different. And that scares Niall.

It all comes to a head after their performance on X-factor. Niall goes out clubbing with Louis, while Harry goes out with Nick. They agree to meet back at Niall’s place after, and Niall doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something in Harry’s eyes as they say goodbye that worries him.

When he stumbles into his flat later, Harry’s already there, waiting for him in the kitchen. As soon as he spots Niall, he’s walking over to him, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him. The kiss is urgent and hot, and it doesn’t take long for Niall to get hard at all. He wraps his legs around Harry’s waste as Harry kisses down his neck, pants heavily as Harry starts unbuttoning, and lets out a whimper when Harry palms him through his jeans.

“Wanna fuck you,” Harry breathes into Niall’s ear, and Niall can’t do anything but nod, completely lost in the feeling of Harry’s hands and Harry’s mouth.

They stumble to the bedroom with their mouths connected, and for a moment Niall thinks he might have imagined anything being wrong.

Later when Harry’s head is resting on his chest, fully asleep and snoring just the tiniest bit, Niall decides that he’s gonna tell him. When they wake up, he’s gonna tell him that he loves him, consequences be damned, he can’t not tell him; feels so full of love that he might burst any second. He falls asleep with a hand in Harry’s hair and a smile on his lips.

When he wakes up, Harry’s not there anymore. He can hear noises coming from the kitchen though, so he’s not too worried. He gets out of bed, pulls on a pair of loose joggers and goes into the kitchen to greet Harry.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he says, yawning. Harry’s sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping a cup of tea and fiddling with a piece of toast.

“Morning,” he grumbles, not looking up.

“You alright?” Niall asks, sitting down across from him. Harry’s wearing a white shirt that Niall is pretty sure belongs to him, and he’s pulled his hair into a bun. He looks good, Niall thinks.

“Yeah,” Harry says, still not meeting Niall’s eyes, “Just been thinkin’ ‘bout some stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Niall asks, brows knitting together.

“The hiatus,” Harry says, not missing a beat, like he’s planned it, “‘s gonna be good yeah? Get some time off.”

Niall makes an affirmative noise, trying to figure out where Harry’s going with this.

“And like,” Harry continues, “it’s gonna be nice to get the time to like, actually pursue a relationship, yeah?”

And, what? Where the hell is he going with this?

“I mean, not that you’re not a good shag, Nialler,” he says, “Just, y’know, gonna be nice to pursue something with actual feelings involved, instead of just, y’know. Convenient orgasms.”

And Niall really doesn’t know what to say to that, can feel his heart breaking inside his chest. he stares at Harry, mouth hanging open, trying to read something in Harry’s face, trying to figure out if he’s taking the piss.

Harry looks up at him then, and his eyes are colder than Niall’s ever seen them. And Niall’s heart is already broken, but it’s like the pieces just turned to dust, that’s how it feels, like it’s never going to be whole again.

“Yeah,” he says, because what else is there to say, really? He clears his throat, and sands up, walking over to the fridge just so he can look at something, anything, that isn’t Harry fucking Styles.

“Anyways, I’m gonna head out now,” Harry says, and Niall can hear him getting up, but he doesn’t turn around, stares intently at the contents of his fridge. “Gonna meet up with Nick and the gang for like, brunch. See you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, still not turning around, trying to keep his voice nonchalant. “See you around, mate.”

He hasn’t spoken to Harry since the break had officially started, hasn’t even thought about him really. (Except he has thought about him; about his hair, about his laugh, about his smile, about his eyes, and his voice. He’s not gonna admit to that though, not even to himself.)

“It’s 2016, Nialler!” Harry shouts into the phone, causing Niall to move the phone away from his ear.

“Yeah, it’s also bloody late,” Niall says, “or early, whatever. I was sleeping.”

“I miss you!” Harry says, as if he didn’t hear a word Niall just said, “And I was thinking about you, and I had to call you, because I realized that I haven’t kissed you since-”

“Harry, please don’t,” Niall says before he can finish that sentence. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“No, Niall, hear me out,” Harry says, “I haven’t kissed you since 2015, since last year, Niall!”

“Harry, please shut up.”

“And I was thinkin’,” Harry goes on, “about that time on tour, d’you remember? Like, we’d just come off stage, and it was such a good show, y’know. And I remember really wanting to kiss you, and I did ‘cus you were right there, and it was good, Niall.”

And Harry’s not making much sense, there had been a lot of good times, lots of good kisses on tour. Niall doesn’t know which moment Harry’s talking about, but he doesn’t doubt that it was good, great even.

“Harry-”

“We were good, Niall.” Harry says, voice lower, sadder. “Why aren’t we good anymore, Niall?”

And Niall wants to shout at him, tell him that it’s all his fault, that Harry’s the one who fucked everything up, that he’s the reason they’re not good anymore. But he’s tired, and his head hurts from a few too many drinks the night before, so he doesn’t.

“I’m tired, Harry” he says instead, “I’m tired, and you’re clearly drunk off your ass.”

“But Niall, I-”

“Seriously, just. I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah? I’ll call you and we can talk when I’m less tired, and you’re less drunk.” Niall says, hoping that Harry will give in, will let him go back to sleep.

“Yeah, alright,” Harry says, letting out a sigh, “Good night, Niall.”

“Good night, Harry.”

“Miss you, Ni” Harry says, before hanging up. Niall puts his phone away, and lies down.

“Miss you too, Hazza” he whispers, before closing his eyes and falling back asleep.

~

When Niall wakes up, he’s not sure if he’d dreamt the whole phone call or if it actually happened. He has to accept it though, after he checks his call log. Has to accept that he did in fact receive a drunk call from an ex last night.

Is that even the right term to describe Harry though? They’d never actually been a couple, never even talked properly about whatever it was they were doing. But whatever it was, they’re not doing it anymore, which would make Harry an ex-something at least.

Niall’s never had a drunk phone call from an ex-anything, really. Except maybe that one time back in April when Zayn had called him in the middle of the night, but Niall hadn’t picked up, so he doesn’t actually know if he was drunk or not.

The point is, he’s never had to deal with what comes next, never had to figure out how to deal with said ex.

He’s been staring at his phone for the better part of 15 minutes now, hovering over the call button before locking it, only to unlock it again a few seconds later, to do some more staring.

Thing is, Niall’s still angry. Angry at Harry for calling in the middle of the night, angry at him for suddenly occupying his thoughts again after Niall had been so good at not thinking about him, so good at pretending everything was fine.

(Except he hadn’t. Last night someone at Louis’ party had asked him about Harry and Kendall, and he’d excused himself and pulled Louis into the loo, ranted about what a selfish prick Harry was, and then soaked Louis’ t-shirt with his tears. Niall is blaming the alcohol for that though, and if Louis mentions it he’ll just pretend he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.)

As Niall’s staring contest closes in on 20 minutes, his phone starts buzzing, and Harry’s face pops up on the screen. Niall stares at it, letting his brain process what’s happening, before finally taking a deep breath and answering it. He puts the phone to his ear, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet for a few moments, before-

“Niall?” Harry asks tentatively, slowly.

“Yeah,” Niall says, and clears his throat, “I mean, yes, hi. How, uh... How are you?”

“I’m good, yeah,” Harry says, “I just... yeah.”

It’s quiet again, neither of them knowing how to break the silence.

“Happy new year, I suppose” Harry says after a while, and Niall can picture his smile, small and careful and uncertain. It takes all of his willpower not to smile at the thought of it.

“You already said that, actually.” Niall says, voice snappy and cold.

“Oh,” Harry breathes, “Yeah, I’m sorry about, er... that, last night.”

Niall hums, not about to forgive him for that, for anything really. It’s quiet again, and Niall’s pretty sure the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Listen, Niall” Harry starts, “what I said last night, I meant it, I do m-”

“How’s Kendall?” Niall says quickly, before Harry can finish that sentence. And then there’s silence again. Niall can hear Harry breathing at the other end, can hear him take in a shaky breath, as if he’s upset, which... How dare he? How dare he be upset, when he’s the one who broke up with Niall, when he’s the one who-

“How’s Selena?” Harry says, voice cold as ice, and what the fuck?

“What the fuck, Harry?” Niall says, the anger he’d been trying to conceal flaring up. “What the fuck has Selena got to do with anything?”

“Suppose it was shit spending the holidays apart, yeah?” he goes on and he’s angry now, spitting out his words as if they’re venom, “Suppose you’ve been bloody miserable without her.”

“Harry, mate, what the fuck are you on about?” Niall says, almost shouts.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry says, but he doesn’t sound it, “Didn’t know talking about your girlfriend was off-limits.”

“Harry,” Niall says, breathing through his nose and trying to stay calm, “Selena’s not my fucking girlfriend. We’re friends, Harry, that’s it.”

And then it’s quiet again. He can hear Harry breathing again, and he hates that somewhere along the line he started being able to tell how Harry’s feeling based on the way he’s breathing, hates it, but he can tell that Harry’s confused and shocked by what he’s just been told.

“But... you’re not... what?” Harry stammers, confusion clear in his voice.

“Selena and I’ve never been anything but friends, Harry.” Niall says, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to breathe evenly.

“I didn’t...” Harry says, and Niall pictures him again, brows knitted, mouth slightly open. “Shit, Niall. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I-”

“How’s Kendall?” Niall says again, pointedly, because it doesn’t matter if Harry’s sorry. That doesn’t change the fact that it happened, doesn’t change the fact that Harry’s been getting cozy with Kendall. Doesn’t change anything, really.

“Fuck, Niall, listen, I’m so sorry,” Harry says, and his voice wobbles a little bit, as if he’s trying not to cry, “I’m sorry about Kendall, about everything, I just... I thought-”

“Well you should’ve fucking asked me, Harry!” Niall shouts, because he has had it, he is so angry and there are tears forming in his eyes and he is done, “You should’ve asked me about Selena, instead of just assuming we were a thing! You should’ve fucking asked me before-” He stops, not sure if what he was about to say is something he wants out in the open.

It’s quiet, both of them breathing heavily into their phones.

“Before what, Niall?” Harry asks, and he’s probably not crying yet, but Niall reckons he’s close.