Comfortable Silence *on hold* - n.h. ~el <3

Chapter Three

(a/n: harreh •u•)

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Niall - 8.4.14 - 7:39 P.M.
"...f course I wanted her bloody number! Seriously, I did, I really did. But this whole relationship thing is really new to me and I had a feeling it would be wrong to take another girl's number when I'm dating Jessa, y'know? I'm right, right?"
Niall stared blankly at his best friend while he spilled his woman problems to him. Except Niall didn't really know what advice to give him, seeing as he's only had two girlfriends and he's nearly twenty-one. And given that one of the girls was only using him for money and the other girl had been bet to date him, he had basically zero experience.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "So do you think I did the right thing?" He asked Niall. "I mean, considering Jessa has 'cancer,' I feel like it'd make me look like even more of a bad guy." He chuckled, putting air quotes around cancer.
Niall completely understood why. There had been a rumor going around that Harry's girlfriend Jessalyn had cancer, started by a nasty young girl who held a grudge against her. Nobody believed it and Jessalyn neither denied it, nor confirmed it, so everyone ignored it. Harry, however, found it funny that a cat-fight had been caused between his girlfriend and some popular girl who craved attention.
Harry was Niall's very best friend and he loved Harry with every fiber in his body, but he admitted to Harry being very conceited and a not-so-sensitive-to-others kind of person. It hurt Niall's heart very much that Harry didn't truly love Jessalyn. He was forced to go out with her when dared to do so in a pathetic game of Truth or Dare. Niall wasn't there himself, because he doesn't like parties, but he has heard the story too many times to count.
Niall has tried several times to straighten Harry out but he just won't listen. Harry cares for Jessalyn, at least, but he doesn't have any sort of attraction to her in any way. They've been dating for nearly three months and the dare was for Harry to hold out for a year before he would get money for doing so. Jessalyn was still oblivious to the entire thing, and Niall would have told her, but he keeps growing soft to Harry's lectures and constant begging not to tell. Jessalyn was a very good friend of Niall's but Harry was his best; they've known each other since they were three-years-old.
Niall sighed and pulled out his phone, opening his notes app. He typed a response to Harry and fought the desire to roll his eyes as he showed it to him.
You did the right thing by not hooking up with that girl, but you need to tell Jessalyn the truth and apologize. She didn't do anything to you and taking money for pretending to like her is just cruel.
Harry laughed humorlessly. "Ni, you tell me this every day and you know I'm not going to stop until I have that money," he replied and Niall frowned. "Besides, it's not like Jessa's gonna find out! As long as you keep your mouth shut, I'll have my money in no time and Jessalyn will have no clue. When she moves on in the future, it'll be like we never happened."
Niall sighed, feeling horrible for the young girl victimized by Harry without even knowing it. He glanced at the clock out of habit and his crystal blue eyes popped out of their sockets when he read the time. He threw a hard hand down on Harry's forearm and the green-eyed boy with curly brunette hair scoffed.
"What?" He scowled. "That hurt."
Niall rolled his eyes and raised his eyebrows as he pointed to the clock. Harry turned his head to see the time and he immediately jumped out of his office chair. They were currently in Harry's dorm and their deep conversation had caused them to lose track of time.
"Son-of-a- we missed practice. Let's go," he muttered, grabbing his duffle bag and yanking Niall out the door with him. This was one of those times that Niall was glad he kept his fûtból gear in his locker in the gym because he hadn't brought his duffle bag with him and Harry had already accomplished dragging him halfway to their destination.
Niall and Harry were both on the Saints soccer (or fûtból) team and they were known as the best players. Still, though, Niall's credit for being one of the best players for the Saints didn't earn him any other friends. Although, he never expected anyone to like him for popularity or for the talents he had left, but still, it'd be nice to have a bit more of recognition.
As Harry and Niall drew closer to the familiar spot, Niall sighed, a smile growing on his face as he breathed in the scent of rain and freshly mowed grass. It had drizzled rain a bit earlier and the enormous sprinklers had been cast across the huge field. Niall enjoyed the way the soccer field lights caused the fallen rain to glimmer, for whatever reason, but he always has. It was just one small reason why he loved coming to the field at night after a downpour.
The field was about one-hundred and twenty yards (one-hundred and ten meters) long by about eighty yards (seventy-three meters) wide. Niall himself felt that he would have never been able to do the math by himself, but he remembered earlier in the year when his coach had informed the students of the mass field's size.
When walking out of the frat house, there was about a distance of one-hundred yards between there and the edge of the field's entrance. There were old, rusting, cement stairs that led down to an outdoor locker-room area for the boys and four sets of large bleachers were set up to it's left side. Niall loved this place almost more than the amount of desire he had for his voice to come back, but he knew it wouldn't and the thought eats him alive.
Harry continued to drag Niall because, let's face it, Niall was just lazy at this point. They were just making their way down the old, rusting, cement staircase when they heard the sound of their coach's deep Irish accent.
"Styles, Horan, you're late," he announced monotonously.
Harry rolled his eyes while laughing, letting go of Niall's arm as their coach walked beside them towards the locker room. Niall was planning on smiling innocently at their coach, but of course, Harry ruined that by accepting the fact that they'd get a demerit. Since their coach likes to train them like soldiers in gym class, he gives them demerits when they either don't complete something, disrespect the coach, ditch class or come in late.
"Oh come on, Paul, it's us," Harry replies with a smirk as they enter the locker room and the stench of sweat immediately strikes their senses. "You love us. And you've always got our backs- you might as well be our bodyguard!" He laughed.
Coach scowled. "Okay, first, it's either Coach or Coach Higgins because if you call me by my first name, I will give you a demerit and I'll start calling you either Curly or Cupcake," he replied flatly and Niall grinned, amused, as they found their lockers. "And second, I loathe you."
Harry shrugged, unlocking his padlock and swinging his pale, teal green locker open. "I like Cupcake," he told Coach and Coach looked at Niall, holding a gun hand up to the side of his head and pretending to pull the trigger.
Niall was able to manage a very small wheeze of laughter, causing Paul to smirk and glance back at Harry before wondering off to somewhere else in the locker room.
Harry and Niall both changed into their soccer uniforms, which was a mid-sleeve shirt and shorts that were made from a somewhat thick nylon and of course, their cleats. Niall didn't understand why the uniforms were only dark royal blue and black with a bit of white. Gold was one of their colors and black wasn't so he thought it'd almost be better if the black was replaced with gold.
"Alright, guys, one more practice round and then we-?" Coach shouted and all of the Saints players finished his sentence with dozens of shouts morphed into one big one.
"BEAT THE REBELS!" They chorused in unison.
Only then did Niall think about who they were playing against. He didn't think about it much lately, with his studying and all, but the goal was to beat the Dublin Rebels.
"Alright, team, LET'S GO," Coach shouted and all of the young men in the room cheered, the sounds of their voices bouncing off of the walls and into their eardrums.