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He gets out of the bed and walks out to the balcony. It’s hot outside and he can see the pool from his room. Things are good, he spoke to his mom earlier this morning and he has a show tonight so he doesn’t really understand why his chest feels oppressed or why he has a lump in his throat, just because of a text. Maybe he knows what Nick is talking about, maybe things are too good so he forgot things weren’t actually okay in the beginning, if that makes sense.
Harry takes his sunglasses and his room key as he leaves the hotel room to go to the bar. It’s not that early but it’s also not that late for a drink, and when he finds Jeff there with some other members of his crew he can’t help but smile as he walks to them. They start talking and laughing and Harry gets a little lost in the conversation forgetting about Nick’s text in the back of his pocket.
It’s not until an hour later when Harry checks his phone again and finds a new chain of Nick’s texts that maybe he worries a little bit.
“ur not still hung up on him, are u???”
“cmon harry u said u were over it now”
“Harry??”
His breath starts to rush because now Harry is sure what Nick is talking about. So he does the most mature thing he can think of – which he’s been doing a lot lately – and borrows a phone from someone in his crew, making some senseless excuse like ‘my battery just died’ or ‘I think I left it in my bag in my room.’ they don’t really ask, maybe they don’t care or maybe they already know.
He gets up from the table and makes his way to lock himself in the closest bathroom he can find. He opens Instagram and hesitates for a little longer, pinching his lips with his fingers asking himself why the hell he’s locking himself in a cubicle, before giving up and checking Niall’s story.
Harry smiles the second Niall’s face appears on the screen and he hates to admit that his heartbeat is raising because maybe he misses him a little too much, even when he tries to fill his mind with other things, even when he tires his body enough to go to sleep every night, even when he lies to himself by kissing other lips, touching someone’s else’s skin. It’s not the same, he doesn’t feel like he’s about to explode for a kiss or burn out by a touch. Maybe he will never feel that way again. And that scares him.
He’s about to give up and respond to Nick’s texts asking him what is going on when he decides to check the radio account and he finds it, at least he’s pretty sure that’s what he’s talking about. A two-part video of Niall and Shawn, and he watches it, lowering the volume in case someone else enters the bathroom, but the video is loud enough to resonate in his bones, Niall’s laugh echoes in the cubicle and Harry can’t stop himself from watching it again.
Harry looks at himself in the mirror for a couple of seconds before getting himself out there again, suddenly he looks tired, his face is a little sunburnt and his hair is a mess. Jeff and the rest of the guys are still laughing when he returns, there’s already a new drink in his empty seat so he takes it and swallows it fast enough to make them stop the conversation and look at him, so he smiles and returns the phone as he gets up with a lame excuse at the tip at his tongue, like he wants to sleep before the show. Harry taps Jeff’s shoulder when he looks at him a little too long, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in his mind, which is funny, because Harry has no idea what’s happening in there.
His body feels numb when he gets into the elevator. He checks Nick’s texts again and he hates it when Nick makes jokes like this. Nick isn’t insensitive, no, and he doesn’t tease Harry with the intent to hurt him, but there’s always a reaction he expects from Harry, a laugh of five minutes of gossip. What does he want? Harry answering right away saying some stupid shit like ‘guess there’s nothing holding him back now, is there?’ And Harry feels sick because he can’t get the video out of his mind, he knows it’s childish but he can see it. He can see it in Shawn’s eyes, the same look Harry used to give Niall.
He doesn’t really remember how he gets into his room, but he lets his body fall onto the bed and he stares at the ceiling. Harry knows it’s nothing, a stupid 2 minutes video doesn’t mean Niall is sleeping with Shawn and even if that was the case, he shouldn’t mind. He shouldn’t think about the way that kid makes Niall laugh or the proximity of the both of them, he shouldn’t think about how Niall is meeting new people now, how it’s no longer HarryandNiall.
But he can’t stop himself, not when the only thing that comes to his mind is the first night they spent together, with Harry on top of an eighteen year old Niall, covered in sweat, with his rosy cheeks and those red lips kissing Harry’s jawline. He shouldn’t think about how long he looked at his eyes and brushed his hair from Niall’s eyes, he shouldn’t think about how he exhaled like he was giving him his whole soul at that very moment.
He can only think about how he kissed him gently as he whispered “the essence of innocence” on top of his lips, making Niall laugh and threw him on his side of the bed so they could kiss properly.
Harry takes his phone one last time before leaving Nick on read, and opens Niall’s chat. He bites his lips, wondering if he should really text him, he knows it’s a bad idea, he knows he probably won’t even answer. But he texts him anyway, he congratulates him on his performance and his new friendships. Harry waits fifteen minutes before falling asleep.
When he wakes up three hours later, he has 7 missed calls from Nick but no reply from Niall.