I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Ten

A sense of Déjà Vu washes over Harry as he peers out his dorm room window, watching Niall with a nagging urge of want. Here he is again; desperately yearning to talk to Niall, but the fear inside him crawls back up and shoots him down to the cold ground. He questions himself, asking why it’s so hard to walk up and apologize. It’s his boyfriend, for God’s sake.

Boyfriend. Harry hopes that term is still right to use.

His sad eyes follow Niall’s jogging form, tattoo-littered body slick with sweat and muscles flexing and jumping under his flushed skin. His lips are parted slightly, letting out little puffs of air, chest raising and dropping in the rhythm of each breath. He has earbuds plugged in his ears, the music playing from his iPod blocking out any outside noise, only leaving him with the song lyrics and his own thoughts to hear.

It’s been two days since he’s talked to Niall. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong; he was just trying to help him realize that some silly dream wasn’t worth losing all he had. He didn’t mean to hurt Niall, but Niall hadn’t – and still doesn’t – know that.

Niall is accustomed to pain. He’s use to being looked down upon and known as the child that wasn’t good enough. It was different for his brother.

Everyone loved Greg; Greg was the good child, knew what he wanted to do and achieved it. Now he has a wife and a kid and blah, blah, blah. Long story short, Niall isn’t cared about anymore. But really, he never was cared about in the first place.

It was always GregGregGreg. Greg is so talented; Greg is so lovely; Greg is so handsome; Greg is so fucking perfect and worshiped like some sort of damn God.

Once Niall hit High School he was so tired and fed up with trying to keep up with Greg. So he starts skipping classes, tries his first beer at a party, takes his first hit off a joint in the backroom of some club that he snuck into. He kissed his first boy that night, too. Whether the euphoria he felt was from the kiss itself or the fact that what he did was taboo and rebellious, he didn’t know. That’s why he did it again, and again, and again until he was confident that yeah, he really liked kissing boys.

He gets a tattoo that soon turns into five, then ten, and so on until he couldn’t count the amount on his fingers and toes. Gets a few piercings; ditches the Polos, and khakis, and nice dress shoes. Finally he’s transformed into a true bad boy with the typical cliché background story to follow it on. Life was so much simpler this way, Niall always thought. Until he saw the green eyed, curly haired boy in the window. That’s when it all started going to hell again. He knew getting attached to him would be bad, but that’s what he wanted right? To have it bad, to be bad?

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