Once Again It’s Happening ( twice the pain, the suffering)
Title: Once Again It’s Happening ( twice the pain, the suffering)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Harry/ Niall (Louis/Harry, Liam/Niall )
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 4 750
Warnings: Light swearing
Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction and this all fictional.
Summary: “We need to talk.” One of them would say and the other would nod. No other words needed to be exchanged, they understood.
“Let no one who loves be unhappy, even love unreturned has its rainbow.”
― J.M. Barrie
Harry and Niall were happy. They loved each other; in each other’s arms they felt safe.
There was neither uncertainty nor any misunderstandings between them; they knew exactly where they had each other, what they meant for one another.
The two boys weren’t over affectionate, but after a tough day filled with interviews or signings they would curl up next to one another on the couch. The other boys would smile fondly at them whilst opening a beer and watching a movie.
Harry and Niall would snuggle up, arms protectively around each other’s waists. They would slowly feel the tension leave their bodies and as the movie played they would start trading lazy kisses. They would start to giggle and get an annoyed look from Liam who’d been trying to watch the movie. After a few hours they would sheepishly excuse themselves as they linked their fingers together and left the room. And as Louis’ voice yelled out “remember to be safe kids”, Harry would flip him off before dragging Niall with him to his room in the large flat.
Out of sight their kisses would become more passionate, more tongue and teeth. Niall would run his hands through Harry’s curls and obscene moans would fill the room as they would slam into each other, panting each other’s names.
The next morning they would smile lazily to one another and lie together on the big, soft bed. Harry would trace patterns on Niall’s arm and Niall would moan at the pleasure it caused. They would kiss again, not the lazy, domestic kisses as when they fell asleep the previous night, but kisses that spoke of love and friendship and security. Kisses that weren’t about lust or want or need, but that told of how much their life depended on the other, of how they wouldn’t have made it without them.
All in all Harry and Niall were a happy couple, they didn’t seem to quarrel. Often it seemed like it was the two of them against the world. They always had each other’s backs. If you had asked Louis, Zayn or Liam about them you would simply get the answer “It’s love. They’re happy together.”
Because, they were.
*//*
But once or twice a month, after a day filled with screaming fans and cameras and waiting and stress, either Harry or Niall would corner the other. The other boys might be in the living room, eating pizza and laughing and it would only be the two of them standing in the kitchen, separated from curious ears by the walls and doors, beer and crisps in their hands.
“We need to talk.” One of them would say and the other would nod. No other words needed to be exchanged, they understood.
In one of those nights Harry and Niall didn’t touch each other. They didn’t kiss teasingly or tell the others about their sex lives just to see their grimaces. They sat on each side of the room. One in the arms of one of their friends, the other alone, scared that if someone touched him he would scream. After many agonizing hours Niall would stand up and, relieved Harry would follow him straight away, telling the others they would see them the next morning.
They wouldn’t hold hands or touch each other in any other way, they would simply walk in silence to Niall’s flat and once inside they would breathe out properly for the first time.
No act, no games.
They would throw each other two tired smiles, smiles that none of the other boys saw. Smiles that showed just how old they were. How tired they were of the constant pulling, dragging and disappointment.
Always disappointment.
Harry would throw himself on the couch, kicking his shoes off whilst Niall would fetch two glasses, three bottles of spirit and a bottle of coke. Harry would giggle at the sight and Niall would laugh with him.
“I don’t have any ice cream, I’m afraid.”
“Booze will do.”
They would pour the glasses full of the blank liquid and the sugar drink, Harry would sigh as the strong and bitter taste filled his mouth. The apartment would be dark, only illuminated by the light from the moon shooting through the windows. Quite contentedly, they would sip at their glasses, let their minds fly away (away to their homes, or the next tour or their families) before Niall would cough, looking up at Harry, still completely in his own world. At the broken silence, Harry would turn around to his boyfriend.
“I have this thing for blue eyes.” He would mumble, trying to lighten the mood. Niall wouldn’t laugh though, not even smile. He wouldn’t ask if Harry was okay even though he could; for Harry wouldn't lie, not on one of these nights, but Niall didn't see the point, of course Harry wasn't alright, he rarely was.
After a long silence where Harry struggled to find the right words he would finally close his eyes and lean towards the cushions of the couch.
“He’s just so annoying.” He could say, massaging his temples to emphasize his point.
“Sometimes I wonder if he does things purposely just to piss me off!” Harry would look at Niall and Niall would nod for him to continue, encouragingly.
“I hate it when he doesn’t turn the toothpaste cap back on. It takes three seconds and he never does it. Not once, no matter how many times I tell him to, either polite or yelling. And I wanted to watch The Dark Knight last week and when I opened the cover, the disc wasn’t in. I had to go through all the fucking films before I found it in Dear John. Who the fuck knows where that film is! And when I confronted him with it, when he came back home, he just shrugged. He shrugged, Niall! As if it didn’t matter. He does that all the time, that little shrug. I swear I want to punch him every time I see it, I physically have to force myself not to.”
Niall would laugh softly at the heated tone and pour them more drinks while Harry would continue with his rant about how immature and careless his friend was, gesticulating more and more for every glass. Niall would helpfully add new flaws to Harry’s already extending list, before he would turn the conversation over to one of their other band mates.
“It was coke for God’s sake, not red wine on his Persian carpet. He almost knocked me over in his eagerness to clean it up. I swear that boy has OCD or something.”
Niall would wrinkle his nose and Harry would (already tipsy) giggle. They would continue the conversation of their friends’ pet peeves, not afraid of saying something too mean or of hurting their feelings. They needed this blow out and the next half hour would most likely continue with complaints about how he always had to have the window seat or how it was always him who had to do the laundry.
As the boys had more and more to drink they would become nastier and nastier with their descriptions, curled up in each side of the couch, trading the bottle lazily between the both of them. Long, piano fingers clutching it and gulping loudly, before passing it back to its owner.
“I mean, she’s not even pretty!” Niall would whine.
“Her nose is too big and she doesn’t even have any curves. She’s like a match!” Harry would nod, even though he’d heard the statements before.
“And her eyebrows are wonky looking.” He would add, furrowing his brows, trying to picture her in front of him.
“Yes!” an eager voice would say, before it would lower and start to complain whiningly again.
“And she has her own job. Why should he have to buy her everything? She’s probably just with him for his money anyway.”
Harry would nod, even though they both knew that wasn’t true, but it was still nice to pretend, especially for Niall.
“At least you don’t have to see her every fucking day. She doesn’t come to your house. I swear, she’s the most annoying girl I’ve ever met. That voice.” Harry would chill and high pitch his own voice. “Babe, I’m bored. Let’s do something! Can’t you take me on a holiday? Can’t you leave Harry behind and not give a shit about his feelings? Can’t we fuck in fucking France while he sits home alone, because you’re too much of an arse to call or text him.” Harry’s voice would die down and he would sulk, his lip pouting.
“That wasn’t half bad.” Niall would say half-heartedly of his impression and Harry would huff, depressed.
The boys didn’t have any mercy and they would continue to bash at the poor girls’ looks, personalities and jobs until there was nothing more to say, leaving cruel remarks about how they must be rubbish in bed and sniggering at the mean things they’d done to them in the past, that they knew nothing about and hopefully never would.
After hours of drinking and bitching and drinking and bitching, Harry would finally break down and big tears would roll down his cheeks and heart clenching sobs would escape his mouth, his hands shaking and his voice trembling.
“I just love him so much, Nialler. I don’t know what to do. How do you manage it? How do you manage not to go insane? I’m so fucking tired and I’m so fucking mad at him for doing this to me.”
Niall would sigh and move closer to Harry, dragging him down to his lap and soothe the soft curls on Harry’s head while the boy would cry in his arms.
“I fucking love him, Niall. Why doesn’t he love me back? Why doesn’t he love me too?” Niall would pet Harry carefully, whisper how “it’s okay”, how “he doesn’t know.”
Tears would threaten to fall, but he would force them back, blinking forcefully. Tonight Harry was the one that needed him, not the other way around. “I don’t know why he’s doing this to you, Harry.” He would say, stroking the boy’s cheeks. “I don’t know why he hurts you, but you can’t let him break you. You’re so much better than him.”
Harry would listen to his words, desperately clinging on to them, clinging on to the fact that what the other boy was saying was true. Snot and tears would be spread across Niall’s trousers and his lap would be moist and damp, but neither of them would care.
“I wish…” Harry would begin weakly after his sobs had somewhat calmed down. His head heavily on Niall’s lap, his knees pushed up to his chest.
“I wish I liked-“
“Don’t!” Niall would interrupt darkly and Harry would tilt his head, eyeing the blonde’s dark gaze looking down at him.
“At least, he’s a good guy, Ni. He told you straight to your face how things were.” “He’s not a good guy, Harry. He fucked me, told me he loved his girlfriend and has never spoken about it again. He didn’t tell her and he didn’t tell you. He’s not a nice guy.”
Harry would curl back, breathing heavily into Niall’s torso.
“At least he apologised. He said he was sorry, that he didn’t want to cheat on her and that he never meant to hurt you.”
Silence would fill the air as Harry with a monotone voice would continue.
“At least he doesn’t fuck you every time you’re abroad, just because his girlfriend isn’t there. He doesn’t ignore you once you’re back home, cooking her dinner and taking her out. And when you finally confront him, he doesn’t blow it all back in your face, screaming and yelling, telling you he would never love you, that you’re just a fuck when he’s desperate and you’re just there. He doesn’t tell you it’s a difference between love and want and that you need to get those two sorted if you want his hands on you again.”
Harry’s voice would fail him and he’d curl up even tighter on Niall’s lap, his friend’s hand soothing over his body, trailing from his ribs and down his hips and thighs, before returning up and repeating the movement slowly. Every stroke preventing Harry from bursting into tears again.
“I just thought-” Niall would then say, his voice thick. “I just thought that with time he would change his mind. He would see how much I love and care for him and he would realise that he loved and cared for me too.” “He does, Niall. He really does.”
Niall would then shove his fist into the arm of the couch violently, startling both Harry and himself. “Then why won’t he fucking do anything? If he loves me, why won’t he tell me or break up with her? I know he loves her, but if he loves me too, he should do the right thing. They’ve been together forever and it needs to stop now, before she starts to expect more from him, things I know he isn’t ready to give. It was so good Harry. It was so good for the both of us, I know he felt it too. I can’t imagine him having that with her. It was so real.”
Niall would never hear Harry’s voice as soft as when Harry would speak his next sentence. “You have the love, Niall. The feelings and emotions that are never truly unrequited, just never spoken of, the small touches and looks that say it all. And I have the sex: passionate and wild. More right than anything I’ve experienced before. Together, the four of us have the perfect relationship.”
Harry would let himself be dragged up by his armpits and settled on the lap where he only seconds ago would have rested his head. The position would be awkward and he would feel strangely like a child, but he would solemnly place his arms around Niall’s neck and the boy would snuggle into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him.
“Shhh” Harry would whisper as he’d feel the other boy shake and sniffle at his t-shirt. Niall’s arms would sneak around Harry’s slim torso and not without struggle Harry would manage to turn around, face the boy and lift his leg so he’d be straddling him. Niall would press him closer and Harry would bury his hands in the blonde strands of hair.
They would sit like that, in the slightly odd position for what would feel like hours, until Harry would turn around and his fingers would clench around the bottle neck standing abandoned on the coffee table.
They’d drink the spirit straight from the bottle, shuddering every time the burning liquid would reach their throats. Smiling and drinking. Only they and them in the entire world.
At this time, not a sound would be heard from the outside, only the light from the moon and a quiet car now and then would interrupt the silence.
They would start laughing and get the great idea of having a party, just the two of them. They would put on some music, let the sound blast through the walls and back again, singing along with JLS and Flo Rida, they’d even sing through a song from The Wanted as they danced. Sweat glistening on their bodies, their hair stuck to their foreheads. As they danced, one bottle each in their hands, they would feel on top of the world.
They would feel invincible.
“We’re gonna get married, Nialler!” Harry would scream, a laugh of pure joy escaping him.
“You’d be my best man!” Niall would shout back, before singing the oh oh oh oh’s of She Makes Me Wanna. They’d keep dancing and without knowing how Harry would be standing on the top of the coffee table, dancing like he did when he was 16, when he thought nothing could ever go wrong because he was in a band with four of his best friends and they would never hurt him.
Suddenly a high crash would be heard and Niall would turn around just to find Harry on the floor, shattered glass all around him and a confused expression on his face, like he wasn’t quite sure of what had just happened.
“Man-” Niall would laugh, holding onto his stomach as he would clench forward. “You broke the table, Harry!” He’d get out between his laughter bullets and suddenly they’d both be struggling to breathe, laughing so hard they wouldn’t be able to move. Niall falling on his knees, laughing so it would hurt. And every time he’d look up, his gaze would meet Harry’s bewildered one and they’d start all over again.
“I’m gonna call her.”
Harry would mumble hours later, as he would stand up from the couch, almost falling at the sudden dizziness he would feel.
“Don’t.” grumbles would be heard and Harry would look around, but not see anything. He might look again though and see a blonde movement behind the couch, now holding on to it, so he wouldn’t sway and fall back on the floor.
Harry would want to ask how long Niall had been behind there, but he wouldn’t, instead he’d try to focus on his phone, his gaze lingering on his wallpaper, a not too flattering picture of a boy that really shouldn’t make his stomach flutter as much as it does.
“Harry. You remember what happened last time you told him how you feel? It ended with him with a black eye and you being kicked out of the flat, sleeping at mine for five days.”
Harry wouldn’t answer, but for the first time he would look a bit uncertain.
“You two have barely recovered from that. Don’t do anything stupid, please.”
A loud burp would escape Niall before he’d lay himself back down on the floor, his head swimming and dots dancing in front of his eyes.
Harry would find her number anyway and call, it’d ring without anyone picking it up and he’d feel himself frown at how he’s so rudely being ignored. He would move the phone from his ear and ask Niall, lost, what he should do now. He would tell him weakly to hang up and just when Harry was about to, he’d hear a familiar beep on the other side.
He’d splay the phone near his ear again and he would be quiet for a few seconds.
“I’m Harry!” He would then exclaim and a hiccup would erupt after he’d feel he had been quiet long enough.
“I’m Harry and I don’t like you. You’re stupid and I don’t like you.” He’d briefly wonder if he’d said that already, but he decide it needs to be said, so it’s okay.
“And you seem very nice, it’s not your fault. You’re pretty too. That’s why…That’s why -”
Harry would try to find his lead again and he’d giggle a bit, before becoming serious once again.
This was a serious conversation.
“So keep away!” He would say forcefully.
”You know what?” His voice might turn a bit darker at this point and he’d hear Niall’s warning groans on the floor. “You can ask your beloved boyfriend what he did last month on the Australia Tour. I dare you. Ask him. Ask him who he fucked in the hotel room? Ask him whose name he moaned? He’s so perfect, isn’t he? Perfect little, stupid boyfriend.”
Harry would smirk, before he’d realise that she didn’t see it. “I’m smirking” he would say as a matter of fact.
“I’m smirking and your boyfriend is a whore. A whore who fucks other boys because, he’s a fucking jerk. And we should both dump him.”
He’d be quiet for a long time, trying to get his breath under control and his thoughts focused, before he’d speak again.
“But I won’ do it, so you be a good girl, yeah?” He’d say patronizingly into the phone.
Suddenly Harry would look at it, a bit uncertain as he’d just realised something and he would laugh out loud.
“This isn’t your number! It’s not you I’m talking to. It’s not you, so you don’t have to do what I said.”
He would then hang up and giggle again before he’d fall down on the ground next to Niall. “Your hair smells nice.” He’d say it softly tugging at it with his teeth, because he would come to the conclusion that he’s never tugged at Niall’s hair before and that’s not quite acceptable.
Then he would suddenly run to the bathroom with a shriek and throw up all over the shower tiles and the bathroom floor.
The next morning both Harry and Niall would be completely destroyed. They’d wake up on the floor in the living room, puke in the corners of their mouths and on their shirts. Every move would hurt their heads and they would swear as they’d remember that they had work the same day.
Harry would honestly wonder if he’d survive the day’s activities while Niall would sit down in the shower, not being able to stand up as big droplets would fall down his back. Their skin would be pale and their eyes glassy, dark rings beneath them. They would move painfully slow and if one of them said a word the other would hiss at the explosion that it caused inside of their heads. They would throw up every fifth minute (on the spot) until only water, gastric acid and bile would come up, before they would pull their sunglasses on and walk outside to the awaiting car that would be lined up in front of their flat complex.
They’d be the last ones in the car, the three others already waiting. They’d hiss at the sun that shot needles into their eyes and with a painful grunt seat themselves inside the car.
Zayn would laugh.
“Someone had a party last night. How late did it get?”
Niall would smile weakly, wonder if he would be able to construct real words and phrase them into a sentence, before his gaze would fall upon Harry sitting in front of him looking at Louis. He’d frown as he would see the anguished look on his boyfriend’s face.
The car would fall silent, everyone looking at the strangely tense pair, wondering what was going on as Louis’ voice would fill the air, calm and cold. “Give me your phone!” He would say in a firm voice, extending his arm. Harry would shoot him and the others a confused glare, before Louis would repeat his request again.
“Give me your fucking phone, Harry. Don’t make me say it again.”
Louis’ voice would be low and threatening and the others would look wide eyed and confused at the exchange, not understanding.
“Why?” Harry would ask, but he would hesitantly pull his phone out and give it to Louis with trembling hands.
Louis would start to press the buttons and Harry would look helpless at him whilst he was on it.
“What are you doing?
No answer.
“Lou, please, what are you doing?”
Harry’s voice would be desperate and scared and Louis would finally answer, still fidgeting with the phone. “I’m deleting her number.”
Harry’s face would turn first faint pink and then scarlet red as he would suddenly remember bits of last night and he would stare at Niall in panic, understanding who he truly called the last night, which number he got mixed up. Niall could only look horrified back at him.
The others would still be confused and now also a bit worried.
“You can’t do that!” Harry’s voice would tremble, but one glare from Louis would shut him up. “Don’t you fucking dare, Harry. You’re very lucky that’s all I’ll do. I’m this close to punching you in the face right now.”
Louis would hand him his phone back and Harry would take it, his lips trembling and tears in his eyes. An uncomfortable silence would fill the car, everyone looking at something that weren’t the two boys, before Harry again would open his mouth.
“What if I needed to get in touch with you?”
“Then you’d call me.” Louis’ voice would show no concern or give any room for argument.
“What if you didn’t pick up?”
“Then I’d obviously have something better to do.” His voice would be unkind and soft like velvet. Harry would wince, hurt at the words and the real meaning behind them.
“What if it was important?”
“Then you could call Liam and he could call either me or El.”
Liam would look a bit startled at the mention of his name and he’d look back and forth between Harry and Louis. His hand would cup his jaw and he’d look like he would want to ride with another car, extremely uncomfortable at the anger that flew between the boys.
Niall on the other hand would gulp and his knee would bounce up and down rapidly. “So-” He’d say, trying and failing at a smile. Did anyone else get any messages or calls?”
He’d try to look like his heart wasn’t in his throat as he not that subtly would look at Liam, who would only send him a confused look back. He’d also try not to show how relieved he was when Zayn would answer him.
“Yeah, you sent me a text saying you were sorry it was Harry who broke the table and that I could get a go next time.”
Zayn would roll his eyes and Niall would let a sigh of relief escape him. He’d close his eyes and rest them on the way to their destination, trying not to think about all the lives that could have been ruined because of one careless night.
*//*
As the weeks went by, the drunken night would be forgotten and not mentioned again.
Harry and Niall would again steal kisses at photo shoots and they would laugh and mess around as they cooked the other boys’ food. They would sleep on each other’s shoulders on the long car rides and they would make obscene noises when they kissed in front of the others.
Sometimes, when they saw movies they would shoot each other small, secret smiles and they wouldn’t be able to hide their love from their band mates even if they tried to.
If you’d ask Liam, Zayn and Louis about them, you would get the answer: “It’s love. They’re happy.”
At nights, when it was only them, Harry would whisper in Niall’s hair how much he loved him and in the morning when they had to wake up Niall would return the sentiment.
They’d laugh and dance in the photo shoots and they would ignore everyone else, staring into each other eyes. Harry and Niall were happy. Their love was caring and gentle and secure and they knew exactly where they had each other, they never let each other down, there was never any disappointment or hidden meanings.
They understood each other in a way non
And maybe that was why they were still together. Maybe they were waiting for their friends to figure it out.
Because that not happening wasn’t an option for either of the boys.
e of the others did. It was almost like they had a secret, a secret that made it possible for them to be something resembled happy.
A secret the others couldn’t understand what was.
But once or twice a month, after a day filled with screaming fans, cameras, waiting and stress; Harry or Niall would corner the other, whisle their band mates were somewhere else, and one of the two boys would send an intense glare to the other, a firm look in his eyes.
“We have to talk.” He would say, not being able to go through another day without talking to his best friend about this secret that ate him alive.
And the other would simply nod.
Because the two boys knew the difference between loving someone and being in love.