I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Six

Harry lays on Niall’s bed, groaning about how his head feels like someone has taken a hammer to it. He’s constantly doubling over and emptying his stomach contents in the trash bin beside him; eyes pricking with tears as his throat burns like acid has been poured down it.

Drinking. Never happening again.

Niall strokes his back soothingly, lips tugged down into an incensed frown. He curses at himself bitterly for exposing Harry to an environment like that. But he just wanted to have fun, let Harry experience things that are foreign to him. Maybe a club filled with other drunken perverts wasn’t the best place to do that at.

Harry’s skin is an unusual sickly-looking pale and damp with perspiration. This only makes guilt drive deeper into Niall’s heart.

“’M really sorry, baby,” Niall whispers, flicking away a sweaty curl from Harry’s forehead. Harry gives him a small smile, dimples still showing prominently.

“’S fine. Was stupid of me to let myself get to that point,” he croaks out, voice abnormally raspy. Niall’s heart starts hammering harshly in his chest because wow, Harry sounds really hot right now. Like, really really hot. If he stays much longer he might not be able to contain himself, so he kisses Harry’s eyeliner-smeared cheek and leaves him to rest.

“Hey there, big shot. How’s kitten boy in there? Massively hung-over?” Louis asks from the couch. Niall barely glances at him when he passes by. The words “why in the hell are you in my dorm?” is on the tip of his tongue, but he retains from saying it.

“Yes, Lou. He is. Keep yer voice down, yeah?”

Louis raises his eyebrows questionably with a smirk hinting his lips. “Ooo. Horan over here is bein’ a sassy little shit!”

Niall pulls out a carton of orange juice, chugging the rest of it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glares at Louis, flipping him off in the process, which only makes him laugh. Sometimes – more like all the time – Louis annoys the hell out of him, and today was a perfect example of that.

“Hey, um, quick question.” Louis says, sitting up a bit. “Are you and Harry, like, exclusive?”

Niall’s fingers curl abrasively around the carton in hand, slightly crushing the container. He looks at him, eyes threatening as he asks, “What’s that suppose ‘ta mean?” Louis raises his hands up defensively, a harmless look across his face.

“Nothin’, jus’ wondering. You never really, you know, openly said if you were dating.”

This makes Niall laugh. He goes around the kitchen island so he’s only a few meters away from where Louis sits. He shoves his finger at him, eyes hard like stone. “Are you implying that you could jus’ have a go at him?”

“Dunno. I mean, I can’t see why not, if you aren’t,” Louis says, giving a noncommittal shrug.

Niall can feel his face become red-hot, fury building up in a hellish boil. He grabs Louis by the collar of his shirt roughly and jerks him up to his feet. He looks him dead in the eye, his voice coming out as a rough growl. “He isn’t some toy you can play with whenever you have the urge to, Louis. Yer one of my best friends, but I won’t hesitate to kick yer ass. He’s mine. Is that not getting through yer thick skull?”