Black Mail

If Only

                  

I came around a good few hours later, practically the whole Saturday gone.  When I did finally resurface hours later, it was the unexpected site of Harry sitting at my desk chair, swinging back and forth, anger on his face.

"You're a real dick, you know that!" He shouted hoarsely, the moment I opened my eyes.

I grunted, rolling over to face the wall. I didn't want to talk to him, not after that morning.

"I hope you screwed up and slept with her last night, so Louis can go back on his word and make you stay away from her." I heard him get up, leaving behind nothing but his words.

I threw my pillow at his retreating form. It hit the wall, and a second later, he wiped it back at me, hard.

I sat up, grabbing the pillow and holding it threateningly.

"Try that again!" I called after him, as he scrambled out of the room. "Yeah, that's right pussy. Run away!"

I fell back onto my bed, confused as to what was going on me with Harry and I. Why had he said that? He knew what Merrie was to me. It had me fuming in seconds. I shot up, off the bed, trudging down the hall in search of him. I found him and Liam in the foyer one floor up, eating popcorn, watching the game. I had a splitting headache, which probably didn't help the situation.

"What is your problem Harry?" I snarled, standing in front of the TV. Someone had undressed me in my sleep. I was cold, realizing I was standing in nothing but my boxers and socks.

"Niall, move!" Liam moaned, not in the mood for this fight to take place in front of him.

"No." I replied firmly.

"What do you want Niall? What can I say that will make you cool off?  You've been acting crazy since you started talking to Merrie again. She's making you all soft huh? Sleep with her and move on already. She would never date you for real. Not then, not now!"

It was Harry's fault when I punched him square in the jaw, he had provoked me.  Hungover Niall was still angry Niall. However, that had made Harry angry in return, and soon he had me pinned on the floor beneath him, punching me, most likely giving me a black eye, and bruised chest. I was stunned into arrest. Harry and I hadn't fought with real fists for ages. This wasn't us. We didn't do this. Sure we wrestled for fun, but never with real intent to inflict pain on each other. 

"Harry, stop." Liam pushed him off. I didn't even try and fight. "You're going to leave a mark. What is going on with you two. Why are you fighting?"

Shoving Harry the rest of the way off me, I scrambled to my feet. I kicked him for good measure, which had Liam grabbing his arm when Harry raised his fist again. I glared at Harry, then at Liam.  Fed up, I went back to my room, refusing to turn around when they both shouted my name behind me.

*

"What happened?" Merrie, clutching her warm coffee, sitting beside me on the park bench that overlooked the Thames. It was Sunday morning. Mine and Harry's spat had left such a bad taste its wake that I had gone running right to her. She stared intently at my bruised eye, overnight it had purpled. Looking down, I took a long sip of mine to avoid her, sliding my hand across the back of the bench behind her.

"Harry and I... I don't really know." Neither did I know why I was running to her. It was usually Harry I ran too. "Remember Zayn?" I asked quickly.

"Yes, what about him." She patted my knee in encouragement, silently asking me to look at her. I lifted my eyes, catching her eye.  My knee burned under her touch. She rewarded me with a soft, gentle smile.