twenty three - harry

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twenty three – harry

         “I cannot for the life of me understand how you’re comfortable whilst wearing these,” Niall mused, gesturing to the colorful corsets that lay on the immense boudoir backstage, which was packed full of cosmetics and make-up products, soaps from Greece and aromatic oils from Sicily.

            “You get used to it after a while…” Eleanor jumped in to answer as she entered the room, not letting Harry speak at all. The boy had seriously missed Niall despite everything that had happened between them, and that slut was not allowing him to have a proper conversation with his friend, like normal people.

            “I don’t think he was talking to you, El.” Harry spat bitterly, not able to control himself. The girl spared him a glare; her eyes shaped with black eyeliner, then grabbed her things and exited the room, “Bitch.”

            “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” Niall said, scooting closer to Harry, “Is everything alright?” he tried not to think of the boy’s past and the fact that he had caught Harry committing disturbing actions more times than he would like to remember. Instead, he tried to focus on the fact that he still loved the boy and felt protective over him, even if their relationship – or, whatever that it that they had – could be classified as abusive in many ways. “Harry?”

            “Do not act as if you’re concerned about me,” Harry said, his friendly intentions long forgotten, “She needs to know when she is wanted and when not.”

            A frightful expression appeared on Niall’s face, however Harry did not manage to catch it, “Baby, you’d tell me if anything was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

            Baby, baby, baby. Mother used to call you a baby, didn’t she Hazza? She used to always tell you that you would always be her youngest offspring and her baby; that you’d never be able to take over. And we all know how that ended now, don’t we Harold?”

            “Stop!” Harry hissed with anger, his head snapping towards Niall, “Do not call me a ‘baby’, I am not one and never will be, do you understand?” his hands had now found their way between the highlights of Niall’s light blond hair, pulling it by the roots and making the boy squeak in pain, “Fucking clown, thinking you can disrespect me like this – “

            Niall’s fingers could almost melt in Harry’s skin, as they had both the similar pale color, however Harry’s blood was always scorching, filling the skin whenever he blushed or was hurt, gushing out of the wound like a fountain. Right then, though, they only maintained contact for a small while before the slap was over, and Harry’s cheek swelled up with color, leaving the imprints of Niall’s nails on the skin.

            “What the hell wrong with you?” the blond shouted angrily, throwing himself on top of Harry aggressively and clasping his hands over his head, “How dare you – “

            “Don’t call me a ‘baby’!” anger travelled through Harry’s blood in the speed of light – he felt frustrated, the urge of destroying everything tickling his brain.

            Niall silenced himself then, but did not let go of Harry. He was quiet for a while, until he shifted on top of Harry and freed his hands, still keeping restrained, “Oh dear,” he gasped, “I’ve been doing everything I can – “

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