You love Niall. You knew him like the back of your hand. The last four years have been a whirlwind, but you couldn’t have imagined surviving college with anyone else. But sometimes, it’s hard for him to plan out his life, even something as simple as his next meal.

When he told you he had to take an extra semester, you supported him, of course. But deep down, you sighed in disappointment. You were never embarrassed to be with him, but moments like that frightened you when you took a glimpse into the future. The thing about being with Niall is, you never really think about the future. He is just so present and in-the-moment, you forget about all the responsibilities, agendas, and problems. He makes you carefree, and he’s the closest thing to happiness in a bottle. Deciding to marry him was the easiest “yes” and commitment you’ve ever made.

The past four weeks have been nonstop planning. You and Niall were in agreement about having the wedding at your guys’ childhood beach house. It was nostalgic and a perfect tribute to his mother, who was practically your second mom. You’ve been busting your ass at work, saving every penny for the wedding, while Niall is interning for his dad to prove he is serious about it. It’s no news that no one in either of your families was thrilled about a young engagement, but these past weeks have shown them that you guys are truly set on this. Your love for each other is authentic and true, and you believe there’s nothing stronger than that.

When your mother showed up to your bridal shower after no contact for two weeks, you were ecstatic. Her coming and providing that unconditional support you craved was truly a blessing, and it honestly gave you the courage to proceed with the wedding at all. You couldn’t have imagined walking down the aisle, making it to the altar, glancing at the dozens of strange people, and finding your mother’s spot empty. It would’ve ruined you.

But now that she’s trying her hardest to be as supportive as possible, you’re trying your hardest to take care of all the pre-wedding stuff. After some time, Niall’s dad agreed to pay for almost everything, so you were able to quit your job back home and remain at the beach house for the time being. Ni’s been so busy with work recently that you’ve been doing most of the organizing alone. Well, not completely alone…

The back door to the beach house creaks open, a very slight, coastal breeze sneaking in. Soon, wet feet are padding the wooden floor unrhythmically, causing your head to peak over your shoulder.

The figure you see in your peripheral is no other than Harry, Niall’s older brother. He was a year older than Ni, making him two years older than you. It’s still so strange seeing him multiple times a day at the beach house. He’s been all the way across the country, finishing up college, and starting med school.

It’s been two years since he's been home.

But no one knows that he came to the beach house in December, while you were there.

You hated comparing the two brothers in your head, but you sometimes wondered how different your life would be if you ended up with Harry instead.

Harry was your dream boy since you discovered what the word “love” even was. While your brother and Niall always had it out for you, Harry was there for you. He taught you how to dance, took you to the boardwalk during summer, let you ride his bike, and always remembered the little things. At one point in your life, you knew everything about him. Except for the fact that he liked you back five summers ago.

“I thought you knew!”

Those words were from four summers ago, just a few months after you and Harry broke up. His mom had recently passed away and it was a terribly grieving time for everyone that knew her. And Harry–he was always carrying the heaviest load somehow. He found out his mom was sick and found out she got cheated on before Niall, attempting to protect him from it all. Needless to say, that argument didn’t end well. Yet, Harry always puts others before himself. It’s just how he is and how he’s always been–so empathetic, so giving, so loving. Old you would admit you wished he didn’t take back what he said the night you decided to choose Niall four years ago.

You didn’t regret kissing Niall. You wished Harry hadn’t seen it, but it was inevitable. Niall was present, while Harry couldn’t be. He gave up on you. You wanted someone that could be there for you and Niall was.

Now, you couldn’t sleep. Both boys willingly gave you the queen bed in the motel and you couldn’t sleep. Harry to your right and Niall to your left. The drumming and rumbling of the storm was your mental excuse on why you were wide awake. It was totally not because of your spiraling thoughts about the two boys on either side of you.

“Y/N…” Your heart hums with your name in Harry’s mouth. It’s quiet–barely above a whisper–and so soothing. His voice was truly the calm during the storm.

“I didn’t mean it.” He talks as if he knows you’re listening, “What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it. I still want you. Of course I do–”

“Harry–”

“You don’t need to say anything. Not right now. I just, I wanted you to know.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

You take a breath, bringing yourself back to the present. Harry was out surfing all day, so you hadn’t seen him much. Not until now. He is dripping wet as he trudges behind you, small thuds with every other step. Your eyebrows crease in concern, turning ever so slightly in your chair.

Drip, drip, drip. He’s dripping everywhere.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just got myself on the fin. It’s no big deal.”

“Do you need any help or–”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be–I’m fine,” He waves you off in a way that anyone else would find reassuring, but you know he always undermines himself. You didn’t even get a peak at the wound. It was probably a little worse than he let on to be. When he broke his arm at twelve years old, he told everyone he just hit his funny bone. Except for your mom–he was always honest with her–which is how he ended up in the ER funny enough.

He drags his feet up the narrow staircase. Your face drops in small disappointment, probably because you needed a distraction from all the wedding planning and thank-you letters. Helping Harry clean up his boo-boo would be a nice break.

Without much thought to it, you follow Harry up the stairs. After the first two steps, you turn and immediately notice the large drops of blood trailing up into the bathroom. You gasp unwillingly and don’t hesitate rushing to the bathroom. The door was wide open, like he was expecting you.

The amount of sun leaking in through the blinds created an almost romantic and almost movie-like cast of light over Harry. His back is hunched over while he sits with his legs on either side of the tub. He bows his head in sudden defeat, closing his eyes in increasing pain.

“Harry, oh my God. You’re bleeding everywhere!”

“Y/N, I’m fine. I’ve already stopped the bleeding,” His voice sounds rougher as his hand presses the clean, white hand towel to his thigh.

“Let me get you something to clean it up. Seriously, Harry,” You rummage through the cabinet underneath the sink until you find the first aid kit hiding in the back. No way would he be able to crouch and dig like that with whatever is making him bleed that much. You take a seat across from him, legs on either side of the tub.

“Let go of the towel.”

“I’m fine. You can go. I’m a med student, remember?” He says with strain.

“You are not…fine. Just let me help you for fucks sake.” You demand him to take off the towel again and he begrudgingly slides it off his thigh.

“Oh my God...” Blood adorns the outside of his thigh, but he’s right, he did stop bleeding. Once you get a good look at his wound, you realize there was no mistaking that for a scratch or “it’s no big deal”. A harsh gash decorates the top of his right thigh as if a knife slowly dug across his smooth skin. “I think you might need stitches.”

“And you probably already know that, Doctor.” This is the second time you and Harry have gotten this close since he’s been back in town and your nervous system is acting out seeing him like this; vulnerable and hurt. He’s always closed off and guarding his feelings for the sake of others. It’s… different to see him in such a polar opposite state. One where he lets someone take care of him for once, even if it’s reluctantly. It made your heart skip a beat or two thinking about it.

You inch closer to him, leaning over and grabbing the small attachable head on the tub. You turn the bathwater on and softly rinse the blood from his body. The moment is quiet, nothing but the water running. Harry watches as the maroon mixes with the clear water before trickling down the drain. He was so focused on keeping his eyes on the moving liquids and not on you that he didn’t notice you stop.

When you turn off the water, you latch the head back in its holder and then grab the hydrogen peroxide. Without warning, you pour the burning liquid on his wound.

“Ah,” Harry immediately winces, instinctively leaning down and curling towards you in agony. His head is insanely close to you, practically resting on your shoulder. His damp hair tickles the shoulder of your blouse. You stop quickly and try not to act too affected by it by looking straight ahead. But that was your mistake.

Attempting to stare at the tiled wall gave you a perfect view of his sculpted back. Ridged muscles run from the top to bottom, squeezing and tensing from the acid-like burn in his thigh. The sun and the water from the ocean bathed his tan skin, gracing him with a golden, dewy glow that was so cinematic you almost forgot who you were. You almost forgot who you both were.

You swallow thickly before pouring a tad bit more on to his wound. He winces again and his hand goes to latch on the side of the tub for support, but he accidentally grabs your thigh. His large hand holds the skin just above your knee with a small grip, causing your heart to race in your chest. He breathes out and it’s shaky, but his hand doesn’t really move from your thigh. He’s lost a good amount of blood, he’s probably just in a haze. He probably doesn’t even notice.

When his thumb starts caressing your thigh in a soothing motion, you nearly faint. He was too close to you now.

Pretend like you don’t even notice.

With the bandage in hand, you cover his gash with a pad and then gently wrap the bandage around his leg. After tucking the bandage in, your work is done, and your hand is left resting unbelievingly over his injured thigh.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers as if any louder volume would break glass—so delicate and fragile.

“Yeah—sure.” You swallow, avoiding eye contact. But with Harry, that’s nearly impossible.

The length of silence between each response was filled with much more than sound. The intensity of the stare held between you two was enough to kill. Without even moving your eyes, you feel yourself glaring deeply into his and searching for a reason. Searching for the reason why you’re marrying his brother and not the broody man before you.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice is weak and quiet as his head tilts up and looks at you. It’s the kind of voice you hear that’ll make you so empathetic, you’ll do anything to cure them of their pain. It’s even worse when that voice says your name and that voice is from the person who you’ve been pining after since you were a kid.

Had. You’re getting married in August to his brother, remember? Not him. Get it together.

Trying to keep a poker face when Harry’s wet hair is dangling over his mossy, green eyes was a challenge you thought you’d never have to face again.

“Yes?” You murmured as if someone would hear you and accuse you of the worst.

Your faces were centimeters apart. You could almost feel his soft, shaky breaths on your skin. The rosiness of his lips, the gentle drip of his hair, the tiny stars in his eyes–it was too romantic and even amorous. Your heart was drumming so quickly and profoundly in your ears, it made you feel guilty, even if you were unwillingly feeling so emotional. Why did you want to kiss him so damn badly?

It’s a curse to want something he gave away.

Or did you just not fight?

“Can you help me? I think I’m going to go take a nap.”

You said that when you were with Niall, you were always in the moment. But never in your life had you felt so endangered by fear, yet so alive with a person. He feels like your cause of death and greatest chance of survival all at once. How can this one longing moment feel more intimate and alluring than anything you’ve ever experienced?

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, you probably shouldn’t be sleeping.”

He hums shortly, “That’s for concussions.”

He pushes himself off the side of the tub, his hand leaving your bare thigh. His palm puts a soft pressure on your shoulder as he stands. Your heart leaps, electrified from the connection of his hand purposefully touching you.

Drip, drip, drip. He’s dripping everywhere.

He’s everywhere.

You rise with hesitant legs, your hand over his now. “You got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I can walk,” He grunts subduedly as he limps out of the bathroom before you have the chance to even think about stopping him. There was just too much haziness clouding your mind right now. You release a pent-up sigh and fall back on the tub. Each of your hands incredulously land on your lower thigh and shoulder, making you immediately reminisce the security, warmth, and tenderness of his palms.

You wished you could say that now he’s here it’s like “no time has passed” and “nothing has changed,” but that’s simply not true. It’s been four years since the breakup and many, many things have changed. Niall was your fiancé now.

But Harry’s lips were the closest they’ve been in years. And while everything has changed, the feeling that rattled you up and consumed you whole when he looked at you hadn’t. That burning flush on your skin paired with that beautiful buzz in your heart never seemed to falter, even after all these years. You should’ve known never to get that close in proximity to him, but something within you just couldn’t help it. Harry was like your first tattoo–the kind of love that you’d always be attached to and that stays imprinted on you forever. You wanted to know what he wanted, even though it’s beyond selfish because what would you do if he confessed his love for you right now? Call off the wedding? Run away with Niall’s brother again? None of it is realistic or practical in the slightest. But just maybe, knowing how he felt about you after all this time would heal a broken part within you.

You tell yourself that you’re happy and that you love Niall because you do! But there’s something whispering in your ear, restraining you from running to Niall with open arms. You always knew that inwardly, but wouldn’t dare admit that to anyone. Even your best friend because then it became real. Were you just too blinded by heartbreak four years ago and just agreed to the stable option? The available option?

Is anything stable about Harry?

That feeling. In the deepest depths of your soul, you knew you were tied to Harry. The thought of that tie being seared scared you enough to want him close enough to know, but not close enough to keep.

You should’ve known never to get that close to him because you know you’ll regret it.

Unless you don’t.

—

SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2?? with some actual *action* of course!! i just love to tease y’all. do we like tsitp!harry???

also PLEASE send me your thoughts/feels on the actual show tsitp!! i’m frustrated lol

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