Niall figured that since he returned home without Harry, his mother would be tactful and not mention it. Unfortunately she brought it up just as Niall was digging in to his mashed potatoes. Five minutes later he found himself on the front steps with a change of clothes, Harry’s drawings, and instructions from his father not to come back until he was ‘normal.’
Niall wasn’t surprised. He had been having the worst two days of his life, why not top it off with being banished to the streets? Heck, the only thing that could make it worse was if it started to pour. So of course the sky opened up. At least the dreary clouds matched his mood.
Niall knew he couldn’t go to Harry’s and since he didn’t know where Liam lived, his only option at this point seemed to be Louis’ house. Sure he could have gone to one of his football friend’s house and crashed on their couch, but people in the slums don’t ask many questions. They are used to kids looking for a place to stay. And Niall really needed to talk to someone about how much he was hurting. He needed someone to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. He needed a friend.
And that was how Niall found himself curled up on Louis’ couch in a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of Louis’ football shorts when the doorbell rang. Louis had just headed upstairs to take a shower and Niall heard him call down for the blonde to answer the door before the sound of the water turning on drowned out his voice. Niall sighed and clutched the blanket he was wrapped in tighter to his body as he got up and shuffled over to the door.
He pulled it open and was met by a sight that closed his throat and brought tears to his eyes. Harry was standing there, the sculpture Niall had made him resting in his arms, face facing the floor.
“Louis can I borrow a hammer?” Harry didn’t even bother to look up to see who had answered the door, instead jumping right in to his question. Niall felt a sob gathering in the back of his throat. Harry was going to destroy his gift.
“Oh,” Harry glanced up and cold green eyes met Niall’s wet blue ones. There was nothing familiar in his gaze. Not the nervousness, or embarrassment, or love that Niall was used to. He was just empty, like he had been before Niall had brought him to life.
“H-hi,” Niall wanted desperately to take the two small steps that would bring him into Harry’s arms. He wanted to wrap himself around the other boy and get lost in everything that was Harry. He wanted Harry to hold him and soothe him and promise him it would all be okay.
“Hammer?” Harry asked again, raising the sculpture slightly so Niall could see it. “Please?”
“You’re going to break it?” Niall whispered, a few tears running silently down his cheeks. That gift was a symbol of their love. If Harry smashed it, their love would be nothing more than a bunch of shattered pieces on the floor. It would be unfixable.
“Yes,” Harry answered simply.
Niall felt the hot tears in his eyes and the wetness on his cheeks. He hated how weak he was being. Harry was standing there like it was nothing, like they had never meant a thing to each other. Meanwhile Niall was doing his best not to break down completely, sobbing on the ground at Harry’s feet and begging the younger boy to take him back.
“Fine,” Niall stepped aside and let Harry in, then led his ex into the living room. He picked up his bundle of Harry’s artwork and, in an attempt to show Harry that he could not care as well, dumped them in Harry’s arms. “Destroy these while you’re at it.”
“Okay,” Harry set down the sculpture and shifted through the drawings. He found the letter that was stuck in the middle and pulled it out, his eyes scanning his own scrawled handwriting for a few seconds before he torn it right down the middle.
