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The last thing Harry expects when he wakes up in the morning is for Niall to come rushing into the bedroom, trousers hung low on his hips, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. Harry sits up quickly, looking back at Niall with own wide, concerned eyes.
The second last thing he expects is for Niall to grab Harry’s clothes off the otherwise spotless floor and toss them at his face.
“Get dressed.”
Harry sputters and lets the clothes fall into his lap, watching in confusion as Niall throws open his closet doors and pulls a clean jumper off a hanger before yanking it on over his bare shoulders. He blinks. “W-what-”
“Me mum’s here,” Niall says, his tone hushed. “Just get dressed.”
Despite Harry’s brow furrowing in confusion, he obeys. “What’s she doing here?”
Niall sighs. “I dunno – I mean, you know what she’s like. Likes to pop in unannounced sometimes…”
Harry nods, pulling his own jumper on from the night before. “Does she know I’m here?” he asks hesitantly, watching Niall change his trousers through his eyelashes; he doesn’t know if he actually wants to see Niall’s face or not.
“I told her you crashed in the guest room,” Niall says flippantly.
Harry’s heart clenches and his stomach twists painfully. He’d like to say he doesn’t know why but he does – and it’s that even after all this time, after being friends for years first and being a…thing for over six months now, Niall still can’t tell anyone about them. Niall is still in denial.
“Hurry up, yeah? She wants to see you,” Niall says, walking back towards the door. He stops in the door way, leans against the frame and cocks his head to the side. “Reckon she’s more excited to see you than me anyway.”
Harry chokes a bit on a laugh as Niall disappears before letting a breath out of his lungs he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He breathes out through his mouth as he sits back on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands. His heart is racing, banging hard against his rib cage and his stomach is twisted into all kinds of knots, making him feel sick to his stomach.
He doesn’t think he can do this anymore, doesn’t think he can go on pretending that he isn’t completely and irrevocably in love with Niall. He thinks he’s done a good job so far, keeping the true nature of their relationship a secret from everyone – including their family and friends – but the longer this lie drags on the harder it gets to sell it. The harder it gets for Harry to not kiss him or stare at him lovingly or curl up with him on the couch when Liam and Zayn and Louis are over playing video games. And the harder it gets the more frustrated Harry gets because he just wants Niall to admit it.
He takes a deep breath, stuffs his phone into one back pocket and his wallet into the other, grabs his beanie off the bedside table on Harry’s side of the bed to hide his unruly curls and then bends down to pull on his scuffed brown boots before heading out to join Niall and his mother in the living room.
Maura is a petite woman with dyed blond hair, not unlike Niall, and light blue eyes. Mostly everyone he knows is taller than her to begin with but Harry towers over her when he hugs her. “Harry, lovely, it’s so good to see you!” she squeals, patting his back as he bends down to bring her into his arms. Her accent is just as Irish as Niall’s.
“’t’s nice to see you too, Maura,” he murmurs, glancing over her shoulder to where Niall’s busied himself in the kitchen with a kettle of hot water and three mugs.
Maura laughs, drawing back to hold Harry’s face in her hands. “You’re just like my son, you know that. He never calls.”
“I do too, ma-” Niall starts to protest.
“Don’t let his bad habits rub off on you, love. I hope you call your mother more than Niall calls me.”
“Ma-aaa,” Niall groans, rolling his eyes.
“What?” Maura asks innocently, letting go of Harry’s face to look at Niall. “It’s true.”
“At least I call before I decide to take an impromptu visit back to Ireland,” Niall teases, pouring boiling water into two cups.
Harry stops him before getting to the third cup. “Actually, Niall, I’m gonna head out so don’t-”
“What?” Maura asks, peering up at him. “No yer not.”
Niall blinks at him. “Why? Where are you going?”
Harry shrugs. “Figure it’s safe to go back to my flat now seeing as Eleanor already left for work which means Louis is lonely again. You know how he gets when his girlfriend has to ‘act like an adult just because she has a full-time job now’,” he says, using air quotes. It’s true, that Louis gets lonely, and it’s true that Eleanor has a full time job and Louis complains about it just as much as he talks about how proud he is of her – it’s just that the whole leaving-his-flat-to-give-Louis-and-Eleanor-privacy thing is a bit of moot point considering Harry spends most of his nights at Niall’s flat anyway. Except Maura isn’t supposed to know that, hence his excuse.
Niall frowns. “Tommo’s a big boy, mate. I’m sure he can take care of himself.”
“Yeah, but…it’s my flat too,” Harry replies, staring Niall directly in the eyes. “Thanks for letting me crash here though, mate.”
Niall flinches, looking down at the mugs below him.
“Right, well then,” Maura says, reaching up on the tips of her toes to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Have a good day, love. Hope to see you around soon. I’m only here for five days, y’know.”
Harry nods, tearing his gaze away from where Niall’s avoiding his. He smiles down at the woman who’s always been like a second mother to him. “I’ll make sure to drop by.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Niall mutters, wiping hands subconsciously on his thighs as he follows Harry through the kitchen towards the front door.
“I can show myself out.”
“Shut up, Harry,” Niall scoffs, loud enough for Harry to hear but not quite so loud for his mother.
Harry feels like it’s getting harder and harder to breath the longer he remains inside the flat so he quickens his pace once he gets into the hallway to get as far away as quickly as possible. He ignores the fact that Niall’s followed after him, calling his name down the corridor. That is, until a hand curls around his wrist and forces him to a stop by pushing him up against the wall next to the elevator. Harry decides it’s best to look everywhere except at the concern and confusion in Niall’s eyes.
“What’s – are you – is everything okay?” Niall finally asks. “Actually, forget that because I know it’s not. What’s wrong?”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Nothing, Niall. Everything’s just peachy.”
“Bullshit. You never pass up the opportunity to hang out with my mother so what’s-”
“You want to know what’s wrong?” Harry asks, glaring down the bridge of his nose at the blond boy before him. “You are.”
Niall’s brow furrows together. “W-what?”
Harry tries to remain angry, thinks it would be easier to just be angry at Niall so he can yell and scream. But he’s more sad than he is angry and he’s more hurt than he is sad. He sighs, feels tears prick at the backs of his eyes. “Why can’t you tell her?”
Niall draws in a sharp breath and closes his eyes. “Harry-”
“Just, why, Niall? I mean, I get why you don’t want to tell everyone else and that’s fine, honestly, I get it – but she’s your mother, Niall,” Harry murmurs. “She loves you more than anything in this world and she adores me and – I just, I don’t understand why you can’t tell her.”
“I just can’t,” Niall mutters.
“Why?”
“I dunno, I-”
“What are you so afraid of?”
“I just-”
“Are you ashamed of me? Are you – I mean, am I-”
“No! Harry, of course not-”
“Then what is it, Niall? Why can’t you tell her?”
“Because I’m not even sure what this is!” Niall shouts, pushing away from Harry to thrust his hands into his hair.
Harry blinks, staring at Niall with wide eyes and a broken heart. He can feel the broken pieces beating in his ears, feels the way his stomach churns like he’s going to throw up. Niall’s breathless I love you’s echo in his ears, crowd his thoughts and make him dizzy.
Niall’s eyes widen as he reaches out for Harry, who moves to walk away. “T-that’s not what I meant,” he says, following Harry into the elevator. It begins to move after the doors close, but the last thing on his mind is where it’s taking them. “Harry, that isn’t what – I just mean that I don’t know what I feel, not that-”
“That’s even worse!” Harry cries, his voice thick with unshed tears. “That’s – you’re-”
“Harry, please just-”
Harry shakes his head as the elevator door opens and he pushes himself away from Niall to stand in the doorway. “That’s not even close to what you kept saying last night, Niall, when I was making love to you,” he spits, blinking back tears. “Or maybe it was just fucking, seeing as I don’t know what this is either, apparently.”
Niall falters, flinches like he’s just been slapped even though Harry would never put his hands on Niall in anger. He licks his lips, tilting his head to the side as Harry takes a step back to let the door close between them.
X
The sound of someone knocking at his front door drags him out of his thoughts. Harry groans, rubbing his hands over his tired face before craning his neck to glance at the clock on his bedside table. His brow furrows, both in confusion and frustration because it’s 2:30 in the morning and he should be asleep but he’s not and why on earth is someone knocking on his door? And, perhaps more importantly, why won’t they stop?
He pushes himself up, his white sheets pooling around his waist and scratches absentmindedly at his bare, left shoulder. He waits to see if maybe Louis will get it – except changes his mind a minute later because Louis sleeps like the dead and even if he didn’t, he does have a temper which means he’s probably the last person who should be answering the door right now.
His feet slap softly against the old, worn hardwood floor in the hallway as he makes his way to the front of the small flat he shares with Louis. Although, lately, the term “shares” should be used lightly seeing as Harry spends the majority of his nights – and days, mind you – at Niall’s flat.
There’s another knock on the door just as Harry reaches for the knob to pull it open and he’s not a violent person but he really hopes the person on the other side has a good reason. The door swings open and Harry’s heart stutters in his chest when he sees blond hair and blue eyes standing out in the corridor. He forgets how to breathe for a minute and curses inwardly his eyes start to burn again because he’d only just finished crying.
Niall stares back at him, clad in black and white pajama pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of Harry’s converse. He looks just as tired as Harry feels and his eyes are a bit pink but Harry can’t tell if it’s from fatigue or from crying.
Harry swallows the lump he’s sure is his stomach and shifts awkwardly in the doorway, leaning his left shoulder on the frame whilst holding the door as support with his other hand. His legs are feeling a bit shaky and the last thing he needs for them to give out in front of Niall. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m really glad you answered the door and not Louis,” Niall says, his lips twitching into a small smirk.
Harry blinks, unfazed. Perhaps if he wasn’t so upset and confused he may have found it cheeky as well. “What are you here for, Niall?”
The blond boy sighs, keeping his eyes trained on Harry’s face. “I just… I couldn’t sleep. I tried everything to figure out why and nothing made sense so I tried everything to make myself fall asleep and nothing was working and then I realized that tonight is the first night I’ve gone to bed alone in months, Harry. My room was too quiet and my bed was too big and I just… Maybe it’s pathetic but I can’t sleep without you.” His voice is nothing but a murmur by the time he finishes his confession.
Harry’s heart clenches and his resolve softens a bit because, fuck, he knows what that’s like. “It’s not pathetic.”
Niall cocks his head to the side. “That why you’re awake too?”
“That, and someone wouldn’t stop knocking at my door.”
Niall laughs, snapping his head back for a brief moment before all seriousness takes over and he looks calmly at Harry. “Can I come in?”
Harry nods, steps away from the doorframe and into the small foyer to let Niall step through the door. Niall grabs hold of the door to close it himself as he toes off his shoes. It isn’t usually this awkward between them; they don’t usually stumble around each other or bump into each other. They’re usually quite graceful, knowing where the other is and moving around them like they’ve lived together for years. And yet here they are bumping and grazing and stumbling around each other to get to the kitchen.
Harry clears his throat, walking around to stand on one side of the breakfast nook. “Do you want tea or water or…”
Niall shrugs. “Water’s fine – I’ll get it,” he says, taking it upon himself to grab a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with filtered water from the fridge. He takes a sip as he leans back against the counter and nurses the glass in front of him.
Harry watches him with bated breath, unsure what to do or say or even how to move. Niall’s never made him feel like this before – at least not since the very beginning of their friendship. “So, um-”
“I don’t-” Niall says at the same time, laughing and blushing with Harry as they both stutter to find the words to say.
“You go,” Harry murmurs.
Niall nods. “Right, so…I dunno how to do this,” he whispers, pushing himself forward to place his glass on the breakfast nook and then rest his hips against the edge. “I just…I’ve never done this before, y’know? Like, with anyone let alone, you know, with a boy.”
Harry blinks, opening his mouth to respond but Niall stops him, reaching across the table to grab Harry’s left hand with his right.
“I’m not saying I’m ashamed, Haz, because I’m not. I’m just – I just don’t know if I’m ready for everyone to know.”
“I’m not asking you to tell everyone, Niall. I’m just asking you to tell your mum.”
Niall sighs, looking down at where their hands are linked, playing cautiously with Harry’s fingers. “’m not sure I’m ready for that either…”
Harry shakes his head as he pushes himself away from the nook, awkwardly untangling his fingers from Niall’s. He sighs, turning away from the blond boy in front of him as he rubs his hands over his face. “Then what are we doing, Niall?”
“I thought we agreed to just let this be what it is,” Niall says, his voice a bit stronger now. “I thought we were on the same page-”
“We were,” Harry mutters insistently. “We have been. But I think we both know it’s more than that, Niall. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”
Niall sighs. “Harry-”
“You said it, Ni. You said it so unless you were lying-”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then don’t deny it,” Harry pleads, eyes burning and glistening with salty tears as he struggles to hold them back. “Don’t do that to me.”
“I won’t – I’m not. I just-”
“You just can’t tell your mum, of all people.”
Niall frowns, pushing his hands through his hair. “I…”
Harry purses his lips together, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he leans back against the counter behind him. He looks at Niall who looks just as disappointed in himself as Harry feels. “I love you, Niall. I – and not just when we’re in bed, I just…love you. But if you can’t love me this way, if you can't…then I can’t do this.”
Niall’s brow furrows in confusion and disbelief as he pushes himself away from the breakfast nook to stand at his full height. “So that’s it?” he asks, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re giving me an ultimatum.”
“I’m not giving you an ultimatum; you don’t have to tell your mum-”
“But if I don’t tell her, it’s over; you’re done. That’s an ultimatum.”
Harry sighs. “Niall…we aren’t on the same page anymore. I’m ready for things and you’re not – I’m ready for commitment-”
“-neither one of us has seen other people in months.”
“-I’m ready for moving in together and living in the same space-”
“-you’re practically already living with me anyway.”
“-and I’m ready for everyone to know. And you’re in denial about something and I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m a boy or if it’s just me but I can’t…I can’t live like this forever.”
Niall blinks, staring at him for a minute before nodding his head and clearing his throat. “Right, so this is it, then,” he says again, swallowing the lump in his throat.
Harry’s breath catches in his throat and he frowns, looking down at the floor. Are they breaking up? Is that what’s going on right now, what just happened? “Yeah. I guess so.”
Niall stares at him for a long moment, eyes shining and chin trembling and every now and then his lips move like he wants to say something but he doesn’t. Can’t. Instead he just sighs and taps his fingers on the table. “I should go.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Harry whispers, even though the front door is literally right around the corner. The little broken pieces of his heart are even more broken now, smaller, and it’s like he can feel every single shard stabbing and slicing at his chest and his stomach is twisted into all kinds of sickening knots. All he wants to do is grab Niall and pull him into bed and wrap himself up in Niall’s warmth and love and pretend that the last 18 hours hasn’t happened.
Instead he walks Niall to the door, watches silently as the blond boy shoves his feet rather lazily into Harry’s old shoes and, with a muttered goodbye, he closes the door. And then he waits – and there’s a brief moment in which he waits for a knock or for Niall’s voice or for Niall to come barging in through the door.
Sobs wrack his body, choke him when he realizes that Niall isn’t coming back and before he knows it he’s crawling into Louis’ bed, no questions asked, and Louis doesn’t even bat an eyelash when he cries, “I’m pretty sure I just broke up with Niall.”
X
It’s going on one o'clock in the afternoon when Niall walks into the kitchen to find his mother in front of the stove. He smirks, walking towards her. “Morning,” he murmurs, stopping to plant a kiss on her cheek before reaching around her for the kettle. He puts it on a free element and turns it on.
“Afternoon,” Maura says, glancing sideways at him with that mother look in her eyes.
Niall rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter beside her. “Already taking over my kitchen, are you?”
“Like you ever really use this kitchen anyway,” she teases.
“Harry does,” he says – and regrets it immediately. His heart stutters a bit, aches at the thought of the brown-haired boy he walked away from early this morning and he wonders if revealing that Harry spends more time in his own kitchen than he does is a good idea. “I mean, you know, he likes to mess around when he’s visiting.”
Maura smiles knowingly. “Yes, well, I remember him taking over our kitchen at home quite a bit.”
“Yeah,” Niall mutters, pushing himself away from the counter. He walks around the small island separating the kitchen from the living room and pulls himself onto a stool.
“What’s wrong, love?”
Niall shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Maura tilts her head, giving him the look she used to give him as a child when she knew he was lying through his teeth. “Is it Harry?”
“How’d you know?”
His mother smiles sadly. “He looked upset when he was leaving yesterday. You looked upset when he was leaving yesterday.”
Niall frowns, dropping his head to stare at the counter. “We’ve had a bit of a row.”
“How big is a bit of a row?”
Big enough to break up with me, Niall thinks. He shrugs. “I just – I fucked up.”
“Well of course you did-”
“Oi!” Niall shouts lifting wide eyes to stare at his mother. “That’s offensive.”
Maura sighs. “Niall, Harry would never be that stupid to do anything that would hurt you-”
“What, and I am?”
“Only because you’re not as sensitive as he is.”
A silence falls over them, then, and Niall realizes she’s right. Even when they were kids, it was always Niall who’d done something to unintentionally hurt Harry; always Harry who took Niall back.
“Look, love, you don’t need to tell me what it was about but whatever it was about I’m sure it’ll pass. It always does. And Harry will still always adore you.”
Niall blinks, his stomach flipping over at his mother’s last words. “W-what do you mean 'still always’?”
“That boy has always adored you, Niall – from the moment you two met. He’s always loved you.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a mother, it’s my job,” Maura says tenderly, smiling as she pats her son’s hand across the counter. “And besides that, Harry’s always incredibly obvious in how he feels about people. You’ve always been a little harder to read.”
Niall’s brow furrows in confusion. “What d'ya mean?”
Maura shrugs. “You’re just more guarded than he is so it was a bit harder to tell but you’ve always adored him as well. That’s why I say it’ll pass – because neither one of you has ever known how to stay mad at the other. You’ll fix it and then everything will be good as new and-”
“I’m in love him,” Niall blurts out, unable to hold the words back even if he had tried.
Maura smiles. “I know.”
It’s like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders, off his chest and it’s easier to breathe now. “We’ve been seeing each other for months now, mum. And nobody knows because we haven’t told anyone and I thought…I thought that’s what he wanted too – and then yesterday he got upset because I told you he slept in the guest room and then he got mad because I didn’t want to tell you and – and it’s not because I’m ashamed because I’m not, I just…I haven’t been able to decide how I feel and…” He exhales deeply, placing his hand over his rapidly beating heart. “Fuck, ma, I’m in love with him,” he breathes.
“I know,” Maura whispers happily.
Niall scoffs playfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “How do you know everything?”
“It’s the same way I knew he didn’t sleep in the guest room and the way I knew he didn’t leave to go keep Louis company and the way I knew you snuck out last night to go see him. I’m a mother.”
Niall smiles then, again, only this time it’s more apprehensive. “Alright then, mother…how do I fix this?”
Maura laughs, winking at him before turning her attention back to the stove. “I believe you just did.”