#thief!harry

Zoya1416 on AO3

ZOYAAAAA, my favorite re-read commenter!! Dude, I am SO delighted to see you on tumblr! :D

The first year follow-up to Good Day is *definitely* coming, but I am Attempting to make it a long-shot rather than a multi-chapter fic. Which is- not something I usually do, hence why it's taking a while.

But! In honor of your arrival, here's a sneak preview:

Reverse side to A Thief’s Honor.

It was only years of previous experience that prevented Harry from startling behind the wheel at Merlin’s sudden interjection. 

“Take a left at this next light.” Merlin’s tone was tinged with something somber.

Question on his tongue about the detour Harry held it back behind his teeth, and put on his turn signal to take the direction. If Merlin was interrupting time Harry put aside to decompress after a successful heist then it was for a good reason. The semantics of a “good” cause might have been debatable Harry was willing to take it on good faith.

“Care to explain?” Harry asked as the leather of his driving gloves creaked faints as he adjusted his grip out of nerves. He was still wound a little tightly after evading interpol, again. They tended to be the most aggravating of the law enforcement he had to deal with given his career choice. Still Harry knew very well his prize was sitting just where he left it so his nerves would settle fine. Not even Merlin knew where the rubies were hidden away. Precaution of the trade.

“Keep straight for a ways. I’ll let you know when to turn off the main road. You’re going to hit side streets well before you reach your destination.” Merlin’s voice hadn’t lost the somber note Harry had heard, but the air of business about it made Harry relax. If Merlin was in a postion to give orders nothing was beyond saving. “We’re going to get a contact.”

Years had taught Harry that Merlin was often correct in his predictions. But what he meant by his statement was far more vague. Harry had called Merlin out on his vague wording of his predictions to no end. This didn’t seem to sit quite the same on Harry’s mind.

“Contact?”

With a job just finished it would be unwise for Harry to travel more than he needed to until the buzz about the theft died down. It wasn’t an international headline as he used to pull far too often in his youth, but time had taught Harry a measure of caution. 

Merlin told him he was a lying bastard whenever he made that claim.

“The Unwin boy landed himself into a bit a trouble. Caused quite a stir across ever police radio early this morning when he stole a car that belonged to his step-father.” Merlin went on to explain, at last.

Harry hadn’t known the Michelle had ever remarried after Lee. Not that they even saw one another since Harry’s initial attempt to repay the widow for his husband’s show of loyalty all those years ago. Over fifteen Harry’s mind told him when he did the math without being positive of the year but positive of the day. It stood to reason she at some point would have remarried for any number of reasons - love, simple companionship, or financial stability. 

“A little auto-theft really put so many feathers out of place?”

“When the boy leads half a dozen cars in pursuit their honor is on the line.” Merlin’s tone was amused, the kind that Harry knew meant there was a detail he was withholding.

“Ego will do that.”

“Especially in reserve without so much as a beat of hesitation.” Merlin sounded almost proud of the boy.

And Harry could appreciate that himself. He’d have to look into some CCTV footage of the joyride in question but he’d image it was a fair show. Frankly Harry found it sounded like something he’d do, for fun or professionally. 

But why would Lee’s son need to steal his step-father’s car? There was something amiss with this picture.

Harry kept his eyes on the road ahead of him, watching a woman two cars over talking distractedly into her cell phone. Harry at least was hands free. Yet that had more to do with the necessity of needing both for maneuvers in high-speed occasions. 

“Why did he steal the car, Merlin?”

The moment of silence before the answer to his inquiry was enough to imply that Harry wouldn’t like the details. 

Sure enough when Merlin spoke that somber note in his voice was heavier. And despite the man’s fair hold of his temper Harry heard it stir, low and as mean as he could recall it being.

“Dean Baker has a record of theft, distribution of illegal narcotics, breaking and entering, and assault. Not to mention a few incidents that led to police appearances at home concerning some calls about domestic disputes.” The timber of displeasure meant none of the accusations of abuse had held any water. Merlin had no tolerance for those who abused others in positions of lesser means. Harry couldn’t argue that abuse of power was perhaps one of the most underhanded of methodologies. 

Again Harry’s gloves creaked as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. This time in a moment of distemper. 

While it all painted a teling picture Harry wasn’t quite certain why he was being rerouted.

“Where am I going exactly?”

“Holborn Police Station.” 

If Lee’s boy, Eggsy if Harry recalled right, had been so capable of leading them in a merry chase why had he not managed to escape? it didn’t hold up to Merlin’s frank impression of the boy’s skills. 

“He was caught?” Harry heard the disapproval in his own voice. It waan’t logical of him but that changed nothing.

“Something ran into the road, some rodent or other.” Merlin explained with a gusty sigh the likes Harry was all too familiar with. Merlin gave them often when Harry did something he considered foolish. “He ended up jerking the wheel to avoid hitting the damn thing. Hit a poll and got himself cornered for it. Hit the car that had him caught to let his friends escape.”

Unwins were loyal by blood it appeared.

As it was Harry certainly had no qualms with going to deal with this now. Whether Merlin had planned to wheedle him into it or not Harry would have done what he could. He still owed the Unwins a debt, after all. 

“Show me the route in the GPS if you would. I’ll handle this myself.”

A hum of approval later Merlin voiced his last thoughts. “Don’t cause too much of a spectacle I don’t want to be erasing footage for a week thanks to your sense of vanity.”

Harry smirked, aware Merlin wouldn’t see it, and glanced at the updated route on his GPS. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Why did I ever agree to help you and not lock you away I’ll never know.” It was about the usual level of drama Merlin hung up with. 

Harry just shook his head at his friends antics. They were partners for a reason and had been for a great many years now. Clash as they might it had never been enough to turn them off of one another entirely. Not to say they never fought or even went to lengths to pain or avoid one another for childishly long periods of time. But they had held up under many things and would awhile longer.

Holborn Station would take another fifteen minutes to reach leaving Harry with more than enough time to plan a way to collect his clueless ward.

A simple disguise would do. Then it was just a matter of getting to the police lockers and finding a uniform that would fit him well enough for a getaway. With years of practice of much higher risk it would be child’s play. 

Harry pulled into a small, secure car park and took the ticket to go with his fair for parking. He’d have to collect the car later or send Merlin for it. His plan wouldn’t afford him making a getaway in something nearly so flashy as his personal vehicle. 

The station was small and only manned by a single woman who appeared to also be a dispatcher. She smiled at Harry who signed in citing an appointment with one of the detective for a consultation. In his impeccable suit and easy confidence she didn’t so much as hesitate to allow him to wait for the detective to come collect him. Quite amiable when Harry asked if she might let him in to make use of the restroom, as he’d gotten a little turned around on his drive in.

The restroom was empty save for himself at this time of the morning. Harry pulled out a small set of cosmetics from his suit coat and applied it along his face. Contouring his nose to make it look longer than it was, darkening under his eyes to give the appearance of bags, and adding more winkles than he actually happened to possess. 

The wig was of the salt-and-pepper variety. Sideburns trimmed and easy to glue into place were entirely silver while further up more black appeared over the crown of his head. His temples were silvery and lines of silver cut into the black that would be suited to a man that appeared to be this age, if he was lucky. 

Going darker with the pencil on his eyebrows was easier than having to go lighter, far less time consuming. Harry blended it with ease. Then for good measure gave his jaw line a smattering of specks to look like stubble. Some of is finer white and silver.

Despite being in the same suit Harry looked like an entirely different man. It would do for him to slip into the lockers and procure a uniform. The station was small enough they wouldn’t all be jammed in or have anyone lingering most likely. And true to Harry’s estimations he found no one in the lockers. They instead were likely getting to the first details of their work day, dragging feet to avoid the dull routine of it all.

Pulling on a uniform Harry received the call Merlin anticipated it would. It was a direct line Harry had access to almost always. On rare occasions during particularly difficult heists or high points of danger Merlin monitored the line instead. But Harry answered as he redressed in the uniform with a little modification. Rolling his suit coat and wrapping it in his shirtsleeves to tie around his waist to give the impression of having more body mass than he did.

“Customer complaints, how may I help you?” Harry asked effecting a more feminine voice. 

“’m Eggsy Unwin, sorry Gary Unwin, and I’m up shits creek-” The boy sounded as if he was indeed in dire straights. There was no bluster to the words but an unmistakeable pleading instead.

Harry buttoned up the shirt he’d pilfered and was working on knotting his tie. His next statement had more to do with buying time than anything else. “I believe you have the wrong number, I’m sorry sir.” Harry had no intention of leaving him.

“Wait!...wait,” Eggsy pleaded, “that is...oxford, not brogues?” And it sounded more like a question than a statement with such a weak voice.

Harry pulled the cap snug on the top of his head before fussing about the fit a little more. A glimpse at himself meant he was passable. it was time to collect the boy.

“Your complaint has been noted. We hope that we have not lost a valuable customer.” 

Eggsy’s only just hung up his one phone call when the door to the interrogation room opens with a uniformed officer. He’s in full uniform, including his cap which is pulled down to obscure most of his face. Eggsy can only catch the hint of a chin beginning to droop with age and gray hair along the man’s ears. Uniform even fitted, or old and undersized enough, to show a paunch.

Eggsy just assumes he’s about to be moved to general holding but instead the officer lifts his head to reveal a pair of brown eyes that don’t seem to sit quite right in the man’s face.

“Hands out.” His voice is hoarse and stern, frown deepening the lines about his mouth further. Even the faint crows feet at his eyes become more pronounced. 

With little other option Eggsy holds out his arms to be cuffed. Before the snap of the cuffs Eggsy spots the man’s badge and identification tag - Lupin, it reads. An odd name that nags at some part of Eggsy’s mind but is quickly forgotten as he’s tugged along by the arm back out into the corridor. 

Oddly enough Lupin keeps a hand on his shoulder and guides him along from behind. Not quick, jerking movements most officers provide that are mostly mean spirited more than helpful. The grip is solid but the guidance is mindfully gentle. It’s at odds with the gruff tone the man used, but how is Eggsy to know he isn’t just a soft-touch. If there was such a thing walking around in a bobby. 

No one stops them.

Which makes it awkward when Eggsy finds himself facing a fire door that clearly does not lead to any holding. Even stranger the grip on his shoulder leaves. 

Lupin comes around and is already removing the connection to the door with deft fingers. Little more than a reflex before he’s turning with key in hand and unlocked one half of Eggsy’s cuffs. All without a word one way or the other what he’s up to.

Eggsy still hasn’t made sense of it when Lupin is tucking the removed cuffs into one his pockets and offering a sly smile that doesn’t suit him. There’s a hint of shadowy stubbly alone his jaw, paler in patches by the hinge of his jaw. 

“Come along, Eggsy. We haven’t all day.” Lupin says and pushes open the fire door that doesn’t alarm to alert the rest of building to opening. He holds out a hand and pulls him, urges more than pulls, to go over the threshold out onto the  narrow alleyway. 

The sun is bright outside and Eggsy winces against it first stepping out even in the shadow of the narrow walls. Lupin is just behind him and he gives Eggsy a nudge at the shoulder to keep moving. “Keep going, out to the parked cars if you please.” Calm and polite as the man’s words are is slightly ruined by watching him jam his baton so no one can follow behind them through the first door. 

Lupin is just a step behind Eggsy’s confused giat after that. The man’s legs are unfairly long and don’t match his aged face. The muscle tone isn’t proportioned to the paunch he has.

“Fuck is goin’ on?” Eggsy hears himself ask, barely above a hissed whisper.

For a second Lupin says nothing. 

“Getting to released. Your phone call was to that effect, was it not?”

Eggsy had forgotten about the medallion around his neck. He’d only given it a try as a last ditch effort and expected nothing to come of it. This is something straight out of a Bond movie really. Strange gent turning up and leading him out without a hitch without revealing anything. Eggsy would suspect Dean’s hand at it but his type aren’t nearly so delicate about their dirty work. 

The alleyway opens out to the small rear parking lot. Patrol cars are lined up and a few of the detective’s personal vehicles are in the closest spots. Every car is empty and Lupin slips around Eggsy without so much as a glimpse back.

Without any better option Eggsy rushes after the man. Lupin goes around to the side of the car and opens the door to one of the patrol cars without even having to unlock it. 

“Passangers for you.” Lupin says and his eyes look brighter under the shadow of his cap than they did inside the station. 

Before Eggsy can make heads or tails of it all Lupin is ducking into the driver’s seat. In an effort not to be left behind Eggsy hurries into the passenger’s seat. He whacks his elbow and hisses out his discomfort. But he’s in his seat by the time Lupin is turning keys in the ignition. 

“Seatbelt.” Lupin says just before starting to reverse out of the parking spot without much notice.

Thousand questions in his head Eggsy finds the least helpful tumble out of his mouth first, “Seatbelt, are you for fuckin’ reals?”

Lupin gives him a peevish look for that and puts far more weight onto the gas than he needs to to get them out of the lot. There are no screeching tires but Eggsy jolts and nearly hits his head on the dash.

“Mind your mouth.” 

Rather than argue Eggsy pulls his seatbelt down and snaps it into place before turning a sharp look at Lupin. It’s about then the name hits the right recognition points of his memory. A famous thief has the same name or a similar one - fictional but definitely not the kind of name you find morally bound. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Eggsy asks, something a little like hysteria starting to rise in his chest.

“The man who gave you that medal. And the man who kept you out of a cell; a little gratitude would be nice.”

“That ain’t an answer.” Eggsy grumbled but took a good look at not-Lupin once more. The paunch didn’t look natural with not-Lupin sitting. 

After removing the cap and a wig to reveal a head of a much more appealing chestnut-colored hair the man answered. “Harry Hart.” 

Whether removing the wig disturbed something or being in closed quarters with the man brought it about Eggsy could smell make up. Or it reminded him of his mom’s cosmetics. The way the powders smelled or the goop that came in the tubes did. Not a thing he could put into words but something Eggsy could recognize and categorize none the less. 

“You ain’t no cop.”

The statement stuccoed Hart as funny because he laughed, soft and almost breathless by the end that did something strange to Eggsy’s stomach. 

“I am indeed no such thing.”

The wig was tossed into the back of the car behind the plexi-partrition. The cap rolled some and hit the hard plastic seat. Harry was tugging at his shit collar and the primly buttoned collar gave under a firm pull of his fingers. Tie sliding and pulled loose enough to go over his head in short order. The tie joined the cap in back.

“I operate on the other side of the law, Eggsy.”

“Know a few in there that still apply, ya know.” Eggsy shouldn’t have been pleased at the amused nod in recognition he received.

Harry glanced sideways at him when he was forced to slow at the red light. “Tell me Eggsy would you perhaps be open to a job interview?”

Thoughts not able to settle into the meaning of that Eggsy gave into the hysteria-tinged laugh bubbling up his throat. “Why not.” Because nothing about the moment could get stranger.

“Ah excellent.” Harry’s eyes were before on the traffic well in time for the light to change to green. “How do you fancy becoming an apprentice international thief?”

Eggsy could only stare. Especially when Harry put his foot to the floor and wove through the traffic just barely after he put on the lights and sirens of the patrol car. Naturally people parted for them and they sped forward leaving the station further and further behind. 

“What have I got to lose...” It wasn’t a bold or dedicated response but there was only so much Eggsy’s mind could handle within fifteen minutes. When he caught up he might sing a different tune. 

Beginning . Accusation . Restless . Snowflake . Haze . Flame . Formal . Companion . Move . Silver . Prepared . Knowledge . Denial . Winter . Order . Thanks . Look . Summer . Transformation . Tremble . Sunrise . Mad . Thousand . Outside . Christmas . Wind

Harry’s a thief who gets his hands on the worldly famous Horan Family Diamond. Niall is just the boy who gets caught in the middle.

X

Harry stares, horrified and frozen to his spot in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, at his boyfriend. The blond haired boy stares back, eyes red and puffy, cheeks wet and flushed, lips chewed and trembling, a look of pure disgust and betrayal on his pretty, flawless face. Clutched in his left hand is his (wealthy) family’s diamond; the famous and incredibly valuable palm-sized Horan Family Diamond. 

Harry’s mouth runs dry as he places the paper bag of groceries on the bar-like counter separating the two rooms in the otherwise open floor plan. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat as he takes another step into the living room. “Niall-“

"Shut up," the blond mutters. He sounds miserable, his voice thick with unshed tears and hoarse like he’s spent most of the day crying.

The sound breaks Harry’s heart. And stuns him into silence. 

"Why do you have this?" Niall demands, although his voice is soft – like he’s afraid of the answer.

Harry blinks, licking at his lips. “I – Niall-“

"It’s almost comical that it went missing without a trace two weeks ago and, yet, here it was – in your side of the closet,” Niall says, sounding half-heartedly amused. But he’s anything but.

"Why?"

"Niall, I can explain-"

"I actually don’t think I need that much of an explanation since I found this also,” Niall mutters. He picks up a beige file folder from the coffee table between them with his free hand and holds it out mockingly for Harry, whom flinches and closes his eyes. “Think it kind of paints a pretty clear picture-“

"No, Niall," he says, taking another step towards his boyfriend. The boy in question takes a step back – but not before dropping the folder back onto the table. "That’s not-"

"How long have you been playing me?"

Harry freezes, taken aback. He knows he shouldn’t be, because he knows as well as Niall does exactly what – or who – is in the folder. “Ni, baby-“

"Just answer the question, Harry!" Niall shouts. "How long have you been using me to get to my family’s diamond?"

Harry’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach as he stares at the beautiful, perfect boy before him. Niall looks so heartbroken and desperate and he wishes, more than anything, that he didn’t have to do this. He doesn’t want to have to see the look on Niall’s face worsen when he admits the truth, but he can’t bring himself to look anywhere else either. “Fourteen months, technically-“

Niall’s eyes widen and then darken angrily. “Seriously? Fourteen months? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

"Niall, I can explain-"

"We started dating 13 months ago, Harry – what the fuck!” Niall screams. He closes his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he begins to pace back and forth in front of the window next to the couch. “You – I – we met 14 months ago, Harry. What’d you do, find out my family had money and decide to find out how long you could keep the wool pulled over my eyes? Well good fucking job, Harry, you got 13 months-” he cuts himself off, then, and turns to face Harry, eyes wide with realization. “Oh my God, oh my – you knew before, didn’t you? You – we didn’t meet by accident at all. Jesus fucking-“

"Please, Niall, let me explain," Harry begs, taking another step towards the blond boy. Niall backs away from him again but Harry continues to move closer; he needs Niall to understand, somehow. "Just – please, Ni, just listen to me. Let me explain-"

“Don’t touch me,” Niall spits, slapping Harry’s hands away when the brunette reaches for him. “Explain yourself away but don’t fucking touch me.”

Harry licks his lips, squeezing his hands into fists that he has to bury in his pockets to hold himself back from trying to touch the crying boy in front him. He doesn’t know where to start – or even how, because this was never supposed to be something he was going to have to explain. In fact he should be long gone by now, Niall and his family forgotten. And, yet, here he is. Still. 

He takes a deep breath, focusing his gaze on the blue of Niall’s eyes; he pointedly ignores the torrent of emotions lingering within them. His instinct tells him to lie, to spew every kind of lie and excuse he can think of until Niall believes him – but he knows he can’t. He’s let this get too far now to get himself out and he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Niall knows far too much without Harry even explaining to come up with something decent enough for the blond boy to believe. He also knows that Niall deserves the truth, whether it hurts them both in the process or not. “Meeting you wasn’t an accident,” he murmurs, flinching at the way Niall’s body sort of closes in on itself. His breath catches in his throat and he wants nothing more than to envelope the other boy in his arms but Niall won’t even let him get close enough. 

This is going to be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. 

"I’m a – I take things, steal them," he explains. He hates himself already. "And then I bring them back to – to Nick and we turn it into profit which we then split 50/50.

"I found out you were the Niall Horan my second week of Uni and when I told Nick, he – he came up with the idea. He wanted me to befriend you, get close enough that I would be able to get to the diamond without being detected. After that I was supposed to bring him the diamond and then we were gonna flee the country.”

Niall stares at him, crossing his arms over his chest like a barrier. “So you’ve just been using me this whole time. Everything we have – had – is a lie.”

Harry’s breath catches in his throat and the backs of his eyes burn. “N-no, Niall, it’s not like that-“

"Isn’t it, though?" Niall asks rhetorically, his voice flat, void of all emotion. "Our whole relationship – or whatever – is based on a lie. Fuck, Harry, it’s based on a helluva lot more than just one. This is just – it’s not-“

"Niall, it’s-"

Niall shakes his head. “Don’t even try to deny it. Please.”

Harry’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows around the lump in his throat. “But that’s not how it is, now,” he says. His voice even sounds desperate to him. “I mean, yeah, ‘s how it started but it’s not – the rest of it isn’t a lie. It’s never been a lie.”

Niall scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Maybe not to you. But this,” he mutters, lifting the diamond still clutched in his hand, “feels like a lie to me.”

"It’s – Niall, it’s not a lie. We aren’t a lie,” Harry insists. “We-“

"Why haven’t you left yet?" Niall asks, cutting him off. "You got your hands on this two weeks ago and you’re still here. What’s Nick waiting for?”

"Nick doesn’t know I have it," Harry admits. "I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell him."

Niall bites his bottom lip as he runs his free hand through his hair. “W-why?” he asks, his voice quivering like he isn’t quite sure if he wants to know the answer.

"Because we aren’t a lie, Niall."

Niall closes his eyes and turns away, then, like he doesn’t want Harry to see his face, Except Harry sees everything. “Don’t say that.”

"It’s true-"

"It’s not true-"

"It is true!"

"Then how ‘bout while you’re finally being honest with me why don’t you tell me the fucking truth!" Niall shouts, whirling back around to face him.

Harry blinks, staring at Niall with bated breath. He thought he already had told Niall the truth. “Anything, I’ll tell you anything,” he says anyway. This time when he takes a step forward, Niall doesn’t move away.

The blond lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what I want to know anymore,” he mutters, bringing his hands together in front of him to hold the diamond in both hands. “Actually, yeah, I – were you ever gonna tell me? Had you left before I found this, would you have gone without even telling me?”

"I would’ve had to," Harry admits softly. "Which is why I haven’t been able to tell Nick; I couldn’t…I didn’t want to have to leave-"

"And yet you still took it…"

The brunette opens his mouth to protest only to realize that Niall’s right; the fact that he took the diamond in the first place trumps any claim that he didn’t ever want to leave, no matter how true it might be. 

"What if you hadn’t gotten your hands on it? How long would you have played me?"

Harry closes his eyes, licks his lips and then opens his eyes has he runs a hand through his hair. “I haven’t truly played you in, like, 12 months, Niall – and I know you’ll find that hard to believe given the circumstances, but it’s true.”

"Whether it’s true or not, you still have my family’s diamond. You stole it, Harry.”

Harry nods and bows his head. 

Silence fills the room, then, and the tension is so thick it’s suffocating, deafening to Harry’s ears. Silence with Niall is usually peaceful and comfortable and nothing like this and Harry hates it. The longer it lasts, the more Harry can feel Niall slipping away. 

He clears his throat, beckoning back Niall’s attention where he’d zoned out staring out the window. The fact that he hasn’t left yet is a good sign though, right? “If you hadn’t found it, I would’ve put it back. I would’ve forgotten all about it and we-“

Niall sighs, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, Harry. I can’t – I won’t forget this. And the fact that you could’ve forgotten it so easily..?”

Harry takes a deep, shaky breath. “Niall-“

"I can’t even look at you right now," Niall whispers. He sounds broken and angry – and Harry wonders how much of it is just from being unable to look Harry in the face. After a moment in which Niall clears his throat and pushes himself away from the window, the blond boy finally raises his head, though he looks at everything else in the room but Harry. He licks his lips and sniffs, blinking back unshed tears in his dull eyes. "I packed a bag in the bedroom with some of my clothes and I’m gonna stay with Zayn for a while until I figure out what I’m gonna do," he mutters. And before he’s even done speaking Harry’s eyes are wide and he’s shaking his head and closing the gap to reach out for him only for Niall to shrug him off and slip past him. "I’ll get the rest of my stuff in a couple days or so-"

"N-No, Niall," Harry stutters, whirling around to follow Niall down the hall that leads to their bedroom. His stomach feels like it’s in his throat and his heart feels like it’s breaking apart in his chest and his legs feel like they’re about to give way under the dead weight of his own body. And, sure enough, Niall’s bright green book bag is sitting neatly on the bed, a large black duffle bag next to it. He watches, stunned, as Niall thrusts his family diamond into the book bag. "Please, Ni, don’t – don’t leave me," he begs, finally getting his hands on Niall before the blond boy can push him off. "Please – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-"

"Harry, stop," Niall whimpers, squirming against Harry as he tries to get Niall to look at him. "Just-"

"We can fix this – I can fix this,” Harry insists, wrapping his arms around Niall’s shoulders to turn him around. He pulls Niall flush against him, presses their foreheads together, despite Niall’s shaking head, as tears begin to blur his vision. “I’ll take it back, Ni. I’ll bring it back and Nick will never have to know that I even had it and-“

"Yeah, and then what? Huh? We just go back to normal, like nothing happened? I can’t do that-“

"We can – I can earn your trust back, I will," Harry says desperately, his fingers clutching the back of Niall’s neck, delving themselves into his brown roots; he’s afraid to let go. "I’ll-"

"And what about Nick? What about when he comes around asking why you haven’t got the diamond yet? What happens then?"

"I’ll quit. I’ll tell him I can’t because I’m in love with you and-"

Niall pushes him so hard that Harry stumbles back and has to catch his balance on their shared dresser. “You don’t get to say that to me, Harry,” he spits, his eyes narrowed in pure anger and betrayal all over again. “You don’t get to just throw that word around.”

“‘m not,” Harry says, leaping forward once more as Niall pushes his arms through both straps of his book bag and then swings the duffle bag over his shoulder. “I love you – so much, Ni-“

"Just shut up!" Niall shouts. "It’s…it’s way too late for that now. Like, 13 months too late.”

"Please," Harry whimpers, tears falling down his cheeks and hands shaking, his fingers grazing Niall’s as the blond boy walks past him. "Please, Niall…"

Niall pauses in the doorway but doesn’t face him and Harry’s breath catches in his throat in anticipation. “I haven’t decided what I’m gonna tell my parents so if you need to skip town just in case you should probably get on that.”

Harry watches through tears and with an all-over achy body – literally everything hurts – as Niall walks away from him for what he knows, deep down, is the last time. And the heart-wrenching sob that escapes his throat reduces him to a crumpled mess on the bedroom floor. X Harry doesn’t run. In fact, he doesn’t do much of anything except call Nick to tell him that Niall found the diamond and that he may or may not tell his parents – and it’s so blaringly obvious that Harry doesn’t even need to tell him that Niall broke up with him. (Nick runs.)