Stupid With Love

Give Me Therapy

Niall P.O.V

It was a few days later that I found myself once again lying naked next to Harry. Both of us staring up at the off white ceiling, neither of us speaking a word, because we had found that we didn’t need words. Words have become pointless when we come together like this. We’ve become dependent on each other. I flick my eyes slightly in Harry’s direction, not making it obvious that I am looking at him. He’s breathing slightly, worn out from the events that took place only moments ago. He’s thoughtful, as if he has something he wants to say. And I know he does, because behind that thoughtful look is one of pain. Pain that I have caused him. Pain that I’m causing him. Ever since the falling out that happened between Liam and I, I have become more observant of the people around me. I know how they feel, before they do. And because of this, I have become aware that Harry loves me. And not that ‘friend’ love that almost everyone has with each other, ‘real’ love. The kind of love that would make him jump in front of a train to save me, if I needed him to. Harry is in love with me. But because of things that have happened, I am not able to return these feelings, as I told him days ago. That’s why Harry is in pain. He loves someone who cannot or will not love him back. I feel terrible for him, because I know exactly how that feels.

So we continue to exist in this pure silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Torturing ourselves with things that we can never say. I found lying here, that maybe we do need words; maybe we need to tell each other how we feel, so we can finally work something out.

“Harry. What do you think’s going to happen next?” I turn to him and ask, letting the sheet wrap loosely around my waist.

“What do you mean?” he asked, continuing to stare at the ceiling.

“I mean with everything. The band, us, everything harry,” I explained.

“I know that I should be able to tell you something, tell you that I’ve been in contact with the boys and Simon and we’ve figured out an elaborate plan to kick start this tour again, but I haven’t. I have no idea what is going to happen next and it frightens the hell out of me,” he answered, finally turning to face me.

“So, when are you thinking of going back?” I ask him.

“I was thinking soon, we’ve already stayed here longer then I thought we would. I think it’s time to leave. Go home, visit our families and the other boys,” Harry answered.

“I don’t want to leave, I like it here. Besides, the boys don’t even want to see me,” I said quietly.

“They’re just mad because the tour was cancelled, I’m sure they would want to see you. And besides once they know why you did what you did, they will understand.”

What Harry said sounded reasonable, but I couldn’t tell them, they would judge me. They would hate me even more than they already do. I can’t tell then.

“They aren’t going to know. I can’t tell them, Harry,” I said, alarmed.

“What! Why?” Harry replied, startled.

“It’s none of their business,” I replied, as if the answer should be obvious.

“They have a right to know, they’re part of this band,” Harry sounded angry.

“I know that, but I can’t just tell them. Liam obviously hasn’t told them, otherwise I would have heard from them, but I haven’t so why should I tell them?” I was angry now.

“Okay Niall, I’m not trying to tell you what to do here, I’m trying to help you. But if you don’t want to say anything to them, just wait a little bit. I’m not trying to pressure you,” he replied, backing off, defeated.