The Bully - Narry

Chapter Three; The Transformation

A/N

I know I know it's been too long. I'm sorry. I apologize. But I'm back. And I'll start writing again. All of my One Direction fics (read the other one, I Almost Lost Him), and starting a new one!! Mwah!!

-Jordan

***

Harry's POV

Once I was sure Niall was gone, I laid back on my bed.

Did that just happen?

Niall Horan, the Niall Horan, kissed me, Harry Styles. The fact that we have to keep it secret is kind of hurtful, though understandable. I'm a nerd and he's got a girlfriend. I can't change the girlfriend part, or the fact that I'm a geek. I can let my grades slide, anyways. I've already been accepted to NYU, and maybe I could get contacts and change my hair.

And maybe a tattoo...

***

Niall's POV

As soon as I got out of that nerd's house, I sprinted to mine.

What. The. Fuck.

He fucking kissed me. And the worse part: I kissed him back. But it would never work. I have Demi, yet I'm considering dumping her for that new girl Barbara, but that's beside the point.

Wait.

I thought I was gay. But I like girls too... Whatever. It's nothing. Actually, I only like girls. I don't like guys, I like girls. I lied to Harry. If I tell myself enough times, it'll be real. Conceal it don't feel it. Wait, wrong story.

"You're straight, you're straight, you're straight," I told myself as I paced around my room. I saw a picture of me and Demi on my nightstand. "Eh.."

I got out my phone from my backpack, ignoring my moms texts. I opened my last conversation with Demi.

It's over, babe. Send.

I blocked her number so I wouldn't get all of her texts, and believe me, there will be some.

***

Harry's POV

Thank The Lord baby Jesus in the manager for my mom working all day and not getting home at normal times. She never would've approved of my getting a tattoo.

The person working the front desk was a young girl, only about 23, with pink and black dreadlocks and a stretched oval labret. Her eyebrow piercing was a dangle down, and only one of her ears was heavily pierced. Her outfit was definitely punk or goth or something of the sort. She was small, yet intimidating.

"What d'you want?" She said in a strong Irish accent. Obviously Northern.

"Erm... A tattoo please." The girl bit the end of her pen.

"Ten minutes. Y'know, you don't look the type to be getting a tattoo. Are you even legal age?"

Fuck.

"Y-yeah." Damn my stutter.

"A'right," she said and disappeared to get a clipboard and a paper. "Just fill this out, hon."

I sat down in a red leather chair and completed the form. Nine minutes and forty two seconds later, a tall, lanky man with full sleeved arms and a nose piercing came out from behind the bead curtain. He was looking at a piece of paper, obviously the form I filled out earlier. "Harry," he said. He was American. Interesting.

I stood up and followed him back. I removed my cashmere sweater and laid it on the chair. "What're we doing?" He asked.

"I was thinking of a star on my left arm. It's a... Forget me not."

"Let me go sketch something."

Four minutes later he came back with a small sheet of paper. "Where are we putting it?"

I rolled my short sleeve up slightly and pointed to a spot just above my armpit. A nice, concealed spot, but in the perfect place to flirt with Niall.

The man was finished with my tattoo in less than ten minutes, so I paid him and left.

I got in my car and realized this hair wouldn't work. I did my usual shake, but this time pushed my fringe back. Nice and... Punkish.

Next is my clothes. I stopped at the mall to buy a lot of black and red and white clothes. A wardrobe's worth.

And a pair of sunglasses.

I got home and emptied out my wardrobe of cashmere sweaters and khakis. I kept my Converse, though.

The transformation is complete. Now I've got to see if it works....