One Direction One Shots 2

Narry (Niall & Harry)

It was late. Past 3 am. Zayn, Louis and Liam had been knocked out in their rooms for at least 2 hours now. The hotel was quiet aside from the faint rattling of the air conditioner that blew a cool breeze over Harry’s exposed torso as he lay in bed, plagued by insomnia caused by jet lag. At least that’s what he told himself. He couldn’t sleep because his body wouldn’t let him. Yeah that’s it. Not because his brain buzzed with thoughts of his blonde band mate…no that couldn’t be the reason. “Niall has nothing to do with this,” he told himself as he closed his eyes for the hundredth time. And yet they opened again. He ran one of his large hands through a mess of curls as he sat up, wondering if Niall was awake too. And why.

Meanwhile, across the hall the dim glow from the muted tv flashed across Niall’s pale skin as he sat on the hotel couch with his feet up on a glass coffee table. All of this was too high class for his taste. He had spent the bulk of the evening finding ways to dirty up the room and make it more boyish although there wasn’t much he accomplished as a result of his lazy nature. His suitcase lay on the floor, open in a mess of supras and snapbacks, and the floor was littered with guitar picks and scrunched up pieces of paper that were covered with scribbles of lyrics. Lyrics that definitely were not about Harry. “Nah,” he told himself. The curly-haired, green-eyed lover he wrote about was a girl. Definitely a girl.

Harry twiddled his thumbs back and forth before standing up. His plaid pajama pants hung off of his slim hips, revealing a thick strip of his black Calvin Kleins. All he wanted to do was be with Niall, any way he could. Just to touch him, kiss him, listen to him breathe, see him smile. Harry bit his lip and walked a few steps over to the mini bar and emptied it into his arms. He knew Niall would never refuse a drinking game. He closed the bar with his leg and made his way to the door before stopping. “What if he doesn’t want to,” he thought. Harry was perhaps the most popular boy in the band, but there was always the battle of his own insecurities that always seemed to win. A thousand girls could tell him they loved him but when the little voice inside his head told him he wasn’t good enough, he crumbled like dry clay. And every time, Niall was there to pick up the pieces. To hold Harry’s head in his lap and listen to him and sing to him in that accent and give him the sweetest kisses to remind him that he was good enough. And that Niall believed in him. Harry took a deep breath and opened his door a crack, poking his head out to make sure Paul and the rest of security were still in their rooms.

Being the token Irishman, Niall had finished his entire mini bar hours ago and was disappointed that his intoxication had crept away from him. He was bored no doubt and didn’t feel like playing guitar. He had played all day and his fingers hurt. Niall looked down at his calloused hands and couldn’t help but recount all the things they had done with Harry. He instantly remembered the first time they held hands. It was before their VMA performance and Niall was shaking. Despite being older than Harry he was nervous, but he remembers Harry giving him that trademark smile and taking his hand, slowly interlocking their fingers. And then he wasn’t so nervous anymore. His memories fast-forwarded to the first time he touched Harry. Really touched him. It was only a few weeks ago. The boys had been playing football all day and Niall was in the shower when he called for Harry to bring him a towel. When he stepped out Harry had the towel in his hand but when he reached for it, Harry pulled away from him playfully. He remembers the air being thick and steamy as he grabbed Harry by the arm and yanked him close. The towel fell to the floor but Niall had long forgotten about that. It wasn’t until after they had finished jerking each other off that they realized what they had done. Neither boy told any of their other band mates, nor did they ever mention what they did. Niall had made the younger boy agree on just forgetting about it because that’s what would be best. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

As Harry stood at Niall’s door, he too remembered the incident. It hurt him a little bit that Niall refused to acknowledge the feelings they had for each other. Normally, when someone liked Harry they were never ashamed to say it. But this was different, because Niall wasn’t one of a million girls. He was Niall, and Harry loved Niall. He always has. Harry took a series of breaths before deciding that this was what he wanted. This was what they both wanted. “Maybe he just doesn’t know it…maybe I have to show him.” His heavy knuckles tapped loudly against Niall’s door as he stood fidgeting, making sure not to drop the many bottles he cradled in his muscular arms.