Broken Home - Narry (Sequel to DFWML) --quite slow updates--

Chapter 14 - I'm here Alone Inside Of This Broken Home, This Broken Home.

-Harry-

Niall has been shitting himself for the past ten minutes when I told him we were gonna talk. I meant it to him that I'm not going to yell, or shout about anything. I just wanna clear up shit from the past.

But he's sat on the couch bouncing his knee up and down quickly and chewing on his fingers.

"Babe," I say from the stairs and he darts his head towards me.

"Yeah? You wanna talk now? I can talk now, where do you wanna talk? I don't mind where, it doesn't really matter-"

"Babe!" he stops rambling and breathes heavily, "relax, you're working yourself up for nothing, you're at home, our home, it's okay,"

"Right yeah, sorry," he looks away with a frown and goes back to panicking.

I sit next to him and place my hand gently on his thigh, and he puts his over mine. I turn my hand around and take his in mine.

"You need to calm down, alright?" I speak softly to him and he takes a deep breath in.

"I'm okay, but can you please hurry up and talk to me, it's stressing me out," he admits and I can't help but smile at how open he's finally being about what he feels and what he wants.

"We can talk in a second, there's just another bit of laundry upstairs for me to get and sort and then I'll put it in the washing machine and we can talk alright?" he nods in understanding, "do you wanna help me?" I offer and he nods again and smiles as an added bonus.

"Yeah, I'll help!" he's still so unbelievably cute. Ever since the first day I ever saw him, he's always been cute.

He follows me upstairs and pulls on his sleeves, we grab the last load of laundry and take it downstairs. He puts his pile, which is a lot more than mine, down first and then takes the clothes off me and starts to sort them.

"There's something in particular I need to speak to you about," I state.

"Yeah?" he says as he separates the whites, darks and colours into the other piles of clothes, Angel goes through so many clothes in a week.

"Your arms," I say bluntly because really there's no other easy way to say it. His eyes widen in a panic as if I'm not supposed to know he's been self harming again.

"Baby, I'm not stupid, I know what you've been up to," he shakes a little as he continues to sort the clothes.

"Y-yeah," he says softly, I know for a fact he's about to cry. He angrily throws a pair of jeans down and storms off. I just let him be because I'm not going to yell at him for something he's not in control of.

He's sat on the sofa, I can see him, with his head in his hands and he's cursing to himself. It's rather bad I think it's kinda cute. But it's not, he just makes it look cute. He isn't him right now though, he isn't my Nialler.

I finish sorting the clothes out and he's been with himself for ten minutes, so I decide to go and speak to him.

"Hey sweetheart," I start softly and stand behind the sofa, just in case, but he doesn't need to know why, he'll hate himself if he found out I'm slightly scared.

He looks up at me with his bloodshot eyes.

"I hate being this w-way, Harry," he looks back down at the floor and holds his head in his hands, now he's crying.