Dancing With The Stars *Narry AU FanFic *Transgender!Niall

12 - All Tangled Up

"Let me guess; you thought he was my boyfriend." I decide after Greg and Theo had left. Harry's head is bowed so it's hard for me to catch his nod.

I shake my own head and sigh. While I was here just thinking that he was overly nervous about the dance, not presuming that I'm dating my brother.

"I didn't know he was your brother," He murmurs quietly. His head is still faced downward towards the coffee table.

"Why did you think that?"

"Because you talked to him like he was your whole world! I was immediately dropped because of this person! I was trying to help you through whatever it was that made you sad that day, when you ran off to call this person you've never talked about." He sighs again, trying to nonchalantly make his feelings known. "What was I supposed to think?"

"I don't know." I realise my mistake. Really, I had thrown him under the bus without a second thought. I never would have noticed that he saw Greg as more than just a family member.

"And when he showed up here with that kid... Theo, he looks exactly like you!" He finally looks up at me, his eyes glistening. "I don't know, I just...that did it for me."

My mind flashes back to what everyone has been telling me. Does Harry actually like me? Why would he put himself through that torture?

"Harry, I've told you that I've been here for seven years. I've never gone back to Ireland; it's not possible for Theo to be mine."

"I know, I know. I'm an idiot."

"Well, I'll have to agree with you there." I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Harry gives a half-hearted chuckle.

"I just have one more question." Harry says. I nod for him to carry on. "Why didn't you just tell me? I mean, I was right there. Why did you run off to him when I was right there beside you? I was offering help." His head resumes it's position.

"Greg knows me a lot better than you. He helped me figure out things I was confused about and never left my side. I've only known you for a few weeks." I point out.

His head is low, his voice groggy. His hair has fallen into his face and he makes no move to fix it. "You know nearly everything about me, when I know nothing about you."

"You don't know nothing,"

"I don't even know your favourite colour." He cuts me off.

"What?"

"Your favourite colour; what is it?"

I think for a second before replying, "I don't have a favourite colour."

"Bull shit. Everyone has a favourite colour."

"Well, I don't. My life isn't really colourful."