Light On {Niam Love Story}

Twenty-Three. [Part One]

A/N: So, I've been writing a lot lately because we just did auditions for solos in choir and I'm anxiously waiting to hear the results - the anticipation is just killing me, and writing takes my mind off of it. There's no song for this chapter, but what I recommend is just listening to relaxation radio on Pandora. Mmm. I threw in some Larry in the first part of the chapter because oh why not. If you want to skip that part, though, just look for the magical squiggly line that will lead you to your daily dose of Niam. The dedication goes out to SiriBH because I literally choked when I read her comment. And, well, that's pretty much all I have to say. Enjoy.x;

"I'll soon forget the colour of your eyes, and you'll forget mine."

He stood outside on the balcony, leaning ever so slightly over the railing, with a cigarette cautiously hanging out of the left side of his mouth. His lips are pink and puffy, still sore from those near-bruising kisses. He thinks about how Zayn was never this rough with him.

He looks over the city, watching as buildings turn out their lights and thinking that it’s actually quite beautiful. He sees the glow of car’s headlights below, admiring the way they make the dark streets glow gold. The wind lightly hits his face, blowing his curls all around his pale face – he realizes, then, that he’s never stood out here long enough to truly appreciate the beauty.

Harry sighs, and brings his fingers up. He pinches the cigarette between his middle and index finger, and slides it out of his lips. He blows out a mouthful of smoke, his eyes burning as he does so, and carelessly tosses the fag to the street below.

The double French doors squeak open behind him, and he doesn’t have to turn to know that it is Louis that has come onto the balcony. He sneaks his arms around Harry’s skinny waist, presses his face to his love’s shoulder blade, and wonders briefly if Harry might be ignoring him.

“Harry,” he whispers, rubbing his little nose up and down Harry’s neck, causing the boy to shiver a bit – he almost gives off the vibe of fear. Louis pushes that idea away as soon as it comes. “Do you think we’re making a mistake?”

Harry feels bare to the world around him. He’s only wearing his boxers and a comfortable sweater that he may or may not have taken from Niall once upon a time. The snow is lightly falling from the sky; the mid-January weather was quite gentle as of the moment. He wonders what the hell he is doing – standing there, post-sex with a boy that certainly wasn’t his first love. Louis isn’t the same, and he never will be. He doesn’t smell like Zayn, doesn’t look like Zayn, and certainly doesn’t act like Zayn.

Harry breathes out, shaking. “Shit, Lou. I don’t know. It was never this hard.”

Louis lets a small giggle escape his throat. His face becomes serious, then. “Maybe we shouldn’t have been so obvious, you know? We could have just been secret, and things wouldn’t have ended up like this. Everyone could have just been happy.”

Harry doubted it – but what use was there in arguing with Louis? He sighed, “It’s all just so fucked up though…It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Louis threaded his small fingers through Harry’s curls. He sighed as he rubbed the strands of smooth, silky hair over his palms. He wanted to yank on it, and make Harry scream out his apologies. It was like a fresh slap in the face. Was Harry already planning on ending things?

“Louis,” Harry sighed, and Louis dropped his hand to his side. Harry turned around so that he was facing the smaller boy, and rested his elbows on the railing behind him. “I love you, you know? I don’t want you to ever doubt that. You just have to know how guilty I feel, about Zayn and all. How come you don’t feel the same way with Eleanor?”

“It’s complicated,” Louis shrugged, flipping his small hand like it was nothing. “We weren’t like you and Zayn, or Niall and Liam.”

Harry rubbed his hands over his arms. “Let’s just go back inside, yeah? I don’t really feel like talking about this anymore. I’d rather just be happy.”

That wouldn’t happen, though – not while Harry was with Louis, and not while Louis was rough and demanding. Not while Zayn was in the hospital. Not while it was all Harry’s fault.

~-~-~

Niall stared at Liam’s retreating back as the older lad made his way towards the bathroom.

The blonde clutched on his blankets weakly – his hands had not stopped shaking, his eyes were blurry, his body was sweaty. He lay completely still, staring at the speckled ceiling as he wished for it all to just go away.

No, don’t say that he doesn’t love Liam – because he did. Don’t say that he wasn’t ready – okay, that one might be true, but still don’t say it. Niall didn’t say no, didn’t say stop, and didn’t scream. Okay, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t scream – because, god did it ever hurt.

But it was just different. Liam never meant to hurt him, but what would you have expected? There was something though, something Niall couldn’t figure out while Liam had been taking care of him post-sex. And yet now, sitting on his bed with his love in the other room, Niall knew what he had been feeling, and wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He was filthy. This was Niall James Horan, a baptized Christian – the boy who had said, swore, that he wouldn’t have sex until he was a married man.

He wondered if it mattered now. He had lost his virginity to a pervert – a hopeless, drunken, vile pervert. So, did this thing with Liam even really count?

Now, Niall knew that he shouldn’t worry so much about it. What was done was done, and he couldn’t change it now. He wouldn’t have if he could go back in time, either. It wasn’t like he lost his faith, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe in a superior being – it was just the thing that, well, he believed in himself more than anyone else.

Maybe that’s where his problem was.

Once he had his mind set to something, there was no changing it. When he had decided that Liam didn’t love him because he wouldn’t put out, he did. When he decided that his life wasn’t really life without Liam, he tried doing something drastic to make it just end.

Now, Niall was just a kid. He didn’t know what he was doing with his life quite yet – he didn’t know what it really meant to be in love.

Liam meant so much to him, and that much he just couldn’t deny. He doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t want to question it. He wants to be happy, that’s all.

Liam comes back in the room, wearing nothing – completely exposed. If Niall weren’t under the blankets, he’d look the same. He admires his boyfriend’s golden body as the taller boy climbs into the bed beside him, and slides under the duvet as well.

He pulls Niall close, and kisses the beads of sweat clinging on the boy’s skin. “Hey love. You’re not too sore, are you?”

Liam had bathed him – a long, warm bath with multitudes of bubbles. Liam had given him a massage and had him drink some exquisite wine. Liam had wrapped him up in an obscene amount of blankets, and kissed Niall’s lips whenever the boy would squeak in pain.

“Mmm,” Niall shrugged his pointy shoulders, suddenly feeling a bit drowsy. It may have been the wine – or maybe he was just exhausted in general. “I’m better – loads better.”

“And you’re happy, right?” Liam asks so quietly, Niall has to strain to hear him.

Niall leaned in, pecked Liam’s lips, and smiled. “Yes, Li. Happy.”

[Okay so I want to know who you ship in this story 'cause all my characters are messed up and yeah. your answer won't effect the storyline but I wanna know, yeah? ~ Taylor]