this // narry au

44. a little death

A/N: maybe or maybe not some foreshadowing, I won't answer

And now you'll finally get a view into Niall's mind you'll finally know what the weirdo thinks

WAIT IM NOT OKAY ANYMORE THE RADIO JUST RANDOMLY STARTED PLAYING TORN OMG

44 - A Little Death

Niall's Point of View.

I stare at Charlie for a couple minutes, watching him watch me (sometimes I wondered what he was thinking, if you talked to him he'd respond back and he'd listen to you speak like he understood you), before I throw my head back and groan loudly and dramatically.

"What are you whining over? It's morning!"

I smile to myself briefly-- The sound of Harry's voice was enchanting. He speaks so soft and mellow and slow and shyly, it was a lullaby in a way. And the best part about the way he spoke was that there was always a small hint of attitude and sass, even though he wouldn't hurt a fly. (When a called him Donna Noble I really meant it. Harry's the male, brunette version of Donna Noble).

"Can you come here, princess?"

I don't even remember how I started verbally calling Harry princess, all I really remember is me wanting to treat him like a princess. (Because he is a princess. My princess.)

His floppy hair is sticking in random directions, indicating he just woke up as he walks out.

"Good morning." He smiles softly, noticing I haven't talked yet.

Top of the morning to ya." I greet and he laughs, disappearing into the washroom.

"You're acting strange today." Is the first thing he tells me when he emerges from the washroom minutes later.

"That's rude," I say, "You haven't even been awake for 30 minutes and you're already calling me strange."

"You are pretty strange." Harry points out, sitting in my lap and straddling me spontaneously. I absolutely adored how much confidence he's gotten in the relationship. In the beginning he was shy and would blush even if we held hands and now he just throws himself into my arms like he belongs there. (Because he does.)

"But strange in the best way. Strange like platypus strange." He adds, resting his arms on my shoulders. "Not strange in like a... guy that collects dead bugs way."

"That so, babe?" I murmur.

He nods quietly, his pretty green eyes focused on me. I adored that about him too. Before when he talked to me, he would look at his feet, or the ceiling, or his hands just to avoid eye contact (one day I'll ask him why he did that) but now he would stare directly at you, focusing only on you and what you had to say.

I watch his face for a dozen seconds before whispering: "You're so pretty." And he is. It's true! He's the absolute most beautiful person --he beats men and women-- I've come across.

"Thank you," His cheeks cutely tint the slightest bit of pink and I try not to coo. Harry reminded me of a baby doe in a sense. (Or maybe that's just because Bambi is cute and Harry is cute too. Harry's probably cuter.)

"You really are, princess." I always tried to tell him he was pretty more then one time in a row because I felt like he never believed me. Every time I said it he would blush and thank me but I really felt like it was going in through one ear and out the other. How far do compliments really go for him? I'd never know because if I asked him he'd lie. (He's a real shit liar.)

"Do you believe me when I tell you you're beautiful?" I ask, and his eyes flicker up at me.

"Do I believe I'm beautiful?" He cocks his head.