When Liam showed up later that night, prepared to watch Zombieland with Niall and Harry, he was surprised to find his best friend alone. Harry was never alone. He and Niall were practically attached by the hand. Liam didn’t think he had seen the green eyed boy without his blue eyed sidekick since the day of Harry and Niall’s first date, three long months ago. In fact, the only time that Harry and Niall were separated was art class, where Niall’s modeling stint was up and the class had moved on to landscapes. But every Tuesday and Thursday they would walk out of the building to see Niall sitting on the steps, chipped iPod clutched in his hand and eyes closed as he swayed to the beat of whatever he was listening to. And every time Harry would practically run down the steps, tripping over himself in an effort to feel what he had been craving, the slip of Niall’s skin on his own. Liam would turn away as they shared a kiss and then their hands would tangle together and they would save their affection for a later time, when Liam wasn’t a witness. So where was Niall now?
“Where’s Niall?” Liam asked as he plopped down onto the couch next to his sulking best friend. It never occurred to him that his two friends might have broken up. Because they loved each other too much for that. Liam was sure Niall had just run off to do an errand or something and would be back in a minute. “Getting food?”
“He’s gone,” Harry said flatly, pillow hugged tightly to his chest and voice devoid of any emotion as he stared straight ahead at the blank television screen.
“Gone where?” Liam didn’t understand what Harry was trying to say. That wasn’t even a possibility. There was no way Niall was gone.
“Just gone,” Harry repeated.
Liam stared at his friend with wide eyes. There were no tear tracks on Harry’s face, no red eyes, no indication that he had just suffered through his first break up. Liam felt a cold sense of dread setting in. Of course there was no emotion. Harry was reverting back to his old self, the one he had been before Niall brought him to life. With the blonde gone, the emotional Harry was gone too.
“Why?” Liam didn’t want to pry but he knew it wouldn’t affect Harry either way, so he figured it was all right. “What happened?”
But Harry didn’t respond so Liam slipped in the DVD and turned on the movie.
Fifteen minutes in Harry stood up and disappeared. Liam sighed and shut it off. Without Niall, Harry couldn’t sit through movies anymore.
Liam followed his friend upstairs and found him sitting on the mattress in his art studio, studying his wall. It was gray. One consistent shade of gray. Liam had never seen it like that before. Harry never left it just a solid color.
Liam walked over and sat down next to him, wrapping his arms around his friend and attempting to pull him into a tight hug. But Harry stiffened and pulled away immediately, moving over on the mattress so there was more room between them. He didn’t want Liam touching him. Not when he could still feel the ghost of Niall’s skin on his. So they sat in silence, Harry’s gaze constantly jumping and his hands fidgeting his lap, for hours that night. Liam didn’t ask what happened and Harry didn’t offer any insight. But there was something that scared Liam more than his silent best friend. He was used to Harry’s silence, even though it had been missing for a few months. But something else had changed. Harry wasn’t quite the Harry he had once been.
Because, though it was lying right next to him, Harry did not pick up his sketchbook once.
-
Niall cried a lot that night.
He cried until he was pretty sure he would never be able to cry again, and then he cried some more. He cried with his face pressed into the pillow and his whole body shaking and his throat painfully raw from all his sobs. He cried like he had never cried before, even as his brother shouted at him to shut up and his mum asked him desperately what was wrong. He cried and cried and cried and wished Harry would show up to comfort him. He pulled out all of Harry’s presents, all the drawings he had done of Niall plus the letter from their anniversary, and he stared at them through blurry eyes before hugging the bundle to his chest and crying again. He read Harry’s letter over and over, even though he had it memorized, because it was comforting to see Harry’s handwriting. He didn’t sleep at all.
When he emerged the next morning, eyes red and face swollen and hair matted, his mum pulled him into a tight hug and asked again what was wrong. Niall wanted to tell her, to tell her that his heart was shattered, but he couldn’t bring himself to say Harry’s name. It hurt too much.
So he just cried into her shoulder and wished yesterday had never happened.
“I’m not lying,” Niall insisted, his hand so tightly grasping Harry’s that he was pretty sure he was cutting off the circulation in his boyfriend’s fingers.
“Then why haven’t you told anyone?” Harry asked, his eyes now devoid of the light Niall had once brought to them. “Why didn’t you tell Louis?”
“B-because,” Niall really didn’t know why he hadn’t told his friend. It’s wasn’t like Louis was going to judge him. “I don’t know. I just didn’t.”
“Where do your parents think you are every day?” Harry’s questions where starting to sound strange in Niall’s ears. There was a weird buzzing filling his mind and he knew something bad was going to happen. He knew it.
“School. I told them I go to school,” he whispered so quietly he barely heard himself. But Harry must have heard him because suddenly his hand was gone. Niall looked up, eyes wide, as an expression so full of hurt clouded his boyfriend’s face for the briefest of seconds before it disappeared for good. School was where Niall was supposed to be, where he had been in the weeks leading up to his modeling. But he had grown bored and dropped out with every intention to get a real job, but then he met Harry and things changed.
“You haven’t even told them I exist?” Harry’s voice was so broken Niall could almost see it shattered across the floor. “You didn’t even say you have a friend named Harry and you hang out with him all the time?”
Niall shook his head tightly. He was afraid that mentioning Harry would cause the dam to break and his whole confession to spill. So he chose to keep Harry tucked safely in the back of his mind, where his parents couldn’t take him away or judge him.
“I think you should leave,” Harry’s words were heavy as his eyes searched somewhere over Niall’s shoulder. “Now.”
“But Harry,” Niall was sobbing so loudly that he could barely speak. He grabbed Harry’s hand again. “Please Harry.”
“Go,” Harry wretched his hand away from Niall’s grip and took a few steps back, face devoid of any emotion. “I said go!”
“But,” Niall tried again. Harry couldn’t be serious. Harry couldn’t be forcing him away. He thought Harry loved him. “I love you. Please.”
“You don’t love me,” the ice in Harry’s voice froze the tears that were making their way down Niall’s cheeks. “If you loved me you wouldn’t care what they say. But you do. So you don’t love me.”
“Yes I do!”
Harry was through with arguing, “I said leave Niall. Now.”
And Niall did just that, stumbling home through the empty streets with blurry eyes and a heavy heart.
