Narry One Shots

34. Just let me adore you

I.

It's ludicrous truly. But Harry's got this idea in his head, and once his heart is set on something, there's no way to change his mind. That man doesn't understand the possibility of not getting his way, all must be done however he wishes it to be. So here they are, creating a show - something in the spirit of the Rock'N'Roll circus, but on the setlist, you'll only get the most famous pop-stars at the moment. It's a circus of their own with all the exotic animals, costumes and creeps dressed as clowns though Niall's sure they'd do their job even without the disguise.

It's hot. They're in a tent in the middle of summer, and the air circulation is non-existent. The embrace of the material forces sweat out of their bodies, it contributes to the unpleasant smell hanging about the room. Niall's walking around shirtless, his brand new tee dumped on the ground somewhere already lost forever. He can see Harry ordering people around and making sure all those llamas or monkeys or whatever god's creations it might be will come in at the right moment. There are many familiar faces. Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello, Billie Eilish, Ed Sheeran, 5SOS and Lewis Capaldi to name the few. Niall isn't sure if Louis, Liam or Zayn received those flashy invitations, but with mixed feelings, the Irishman notes their absence.

"Fancy a beer?" offers Lewis, two bottles of beer fresh out of the fridge in his hands. Niall just takes one, downing half of it in one go.

"It's fucking awful in here," Niall comments, popping down on an amplifier after he fails to find an unoccupied chair nearby.

"I know, this goddamn thing better comes to a wrap soon."

"Doesn't look like it though." Niall takes another sip of his beer to drown the anguish.

"Well," Lewis puts a hand on the Irishman's knee, slowly moving it up Niall's thigh, "you know what we could do to pass the time quicker."

Niall looks up to catch his friend's eyes. He bites his lip. Somehow, it doesn't feel right. He's sure done it before with Lewis, giving one another a head or a hand here and there. But he used to do it with Harry too. He recalls all those heated sessions in the tiny bathroom stalls, racing after their high under the pressure of time. He still remembers the panic once they spotted a careless stain on their pants, but there was nothing to be done, they had an audience to play to.

"Come on, Niall," insists Lewis, his hand dangerously close to Niall's crotch, tracing the material of his dress pants. What a tease.

"Excuse me."

Niall's head snaps up, his eyes wide, failing to notice Lewis who takes a step back. All he sees is Harry. His brunette locks, his green eyes intensely focusing on Niall's, his Gucci suit that complements his body so well.

"Niall, would you come with me for a minute?" Harry asks, and Lewis rolls his eyes, angered that someone had to interrupt while it only started to get exciting.

"Yeah," Niall gets up, following his friend to the side of the stage.

"I need someone to sing the backing vocals with me on Adore You, and I thought since we've worked together before, you may join me on stage tonight," Harry lays it down professionally, putting it in phrases that imply he's here to discuss business; this isn't supposed to be a friendly chat.

"I don't know," Niall runs a hand through his hair, feeling the sweat that's accumulated on his forehead, "there's not much time for me to practice it all."

"Come on," Harry puts a hand on the Irishman's shoulder, "It'll be fine, we all are here just to have fun, no need to worry about the quality of it all."

From the way, the words roll off of Harry's tongue, Niall's sure his friend's slightly intoxicated. Probably powering himself on those newfound mushrooms or whatever it is now. And he detests that Harry. Drugs have never been his cup of tea, and he finds the whole excuse that it enhances your senses and artistic creativity plainly silly. Sure, he's gone on stage after downing a few shots, but those are two completely different things.