what it's like // narry [m.preg]

4. You're Not Making This Easy

“You can stay in my bedroom for now?”  Harry prompts, closing the front door with his foot as he struggles with all of Niall’s belongings. Niall gives him a forced smile, following Harry into the kitchen once he placed his suitcases and bag into the room.

“Would you like anything to eat?” Niall shakes his head, plopping himself down in one of the hard wooden chairs. “Anything to drink, then?” He gives Harry a small nod and smile, his fingers finding a rhythmic beat to tap against the table.

Harry sets a glass of water in front of Niall, leaning against the counter as he watches him carefully. Eventually, Harry lets out a sigh, running a hand over his face. "Niall?"

Niall hums, his finger absent mindedly tracing along the brim of his glass. Harry watches him for a second before standing straight, clamping his hands together as he stretches slightly. "I'll put some blankets out - gets a bit chilly at night since i forgot to ask my mum how to turn off the AC - but yeah - i'll see you tomorrow."

Niall doesn't get a chance to respond, not that he would, as Harry walks out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He takes a quick shower, dressing into his PJ's before walking off into the hall. He notices that the downstairs light is off now, the only source of light coming from the small night-light on the side of the wall they had gotten back when Harry was five.

Harry stops at his mother's room, the room barely visible through a small crack. It's pretty bare, most of the photos taken off of her dresser and the closet left wide open is empty. It brings a frown to Harry's face as he pulls back the sheets and blankets, the smell of his mother so strong it feels like she's right there next to him.

"You've always been such a caring person, honey. I used to always be worried it would come and bite you in the ass some day, but here you are - ass in tact." She would say, her hand continuously running through his hair.

Harry falls asleep with a small frown, his face buried deep into his mother’s pillow.

--

Niall keeps talking to Harry a minimal, only speaking up when he's letting Harry know that he'll be going out or asking where the leftover pasta is. 

It's been almost two weeks and at first Harry thought it was fine, if Niall didn't talk to him that was cool - they weren't exactly the closest friends. But by the twelve day - yes Harry had been counting - when Harry asked if Niall would like to go to the grocery store with him and Niall spent the duration of the trip walking a few steps ahead of Harry or behind, only every now and then placing an item into their basket, then wordlessly helped Harry unload the groceries from the car and into the kitchen. 

They're putting away the groceries now and Harry notices Niall's been holding the same jar of jam for a good four minutes now, running around the kitchen looking for where it's supposed to go.

Harry just explodes.

He slams the package of pasta down onto the counter so hard it breaks, making the majority of it fall to the ground. Niall jumps, his eyes wide as he turns to Harry, jar of jam still in his hands.