Harry's breathing began to regress back to its normal rhythm after the long night in slow, deep sleep. He opens his eyes, still rather lethargically as the sun splashed against his face due to the wide open wall window, and stretches across his entire desk in a yawning fit.
His hands brush past the photo at the base of the lamp, and quickly looking down at it, Harry is inundated with scenes from the night before, his breath hitching as his stomach dropped.
Just last night he had held Niall the way he'd always wanted to. He felt the locks of his blonde hair run through his shaking fingers, and the way Niall's body perfectly complemented the shape of his own as they melted into each other.
Then there was the moment where Harry made the rapid decision of pulling away just when Niall had him like putty in the palms of his nimble hands, scoping and feeling him through the thin materials of his clothes.
It was then that Harry figured, if his sensibility hadn't kicked in when it did, he would have definitely taken Niall to his room to spend the rest of the night together just as they were; their heated bodies plastered together.
Harry shook the spine shuddering thought of want and lust out of his head, and rubbed his eyes with the balls of his fists. He sat upright in his now uncomfortable place behind the table in his leather chair, thinking about whether or not Niall was still here in the guest room.
Which then, of course, brought him back to the way Niall's eyes had nearly split his heart open when he'd so sweetly called Harry to bed. The tall brunette had only stood there, frozen in place and frozen in mind, soon refusing and shutting the door, because he thought it would be better for them.
Harry supposed that maybe it was the way their relationship had started, how they were in a constant battle of wit and emotional stability. But in retrospect, Harry had always felt a soft spot for the blonde, though due to his history of being the reserved soul that he is, he's afraid Niall will never really know how he felt because he's never really good with words other than orders.
He looks over to the door across from him and decides that he'd head out into the kitchen, despite being the first one awake; he could tell, because Liamalways made breakfast that Harry could smell from his study.
He made it down the long hallway and turned the corner to the kitchen, but his eye caught the sight of the door to the guest room and he reluctantly gravitated towards it.
The green eyed boy creaked the door open and peeked inside, and to his gratuitous relief, a small, curled figure lay soundly asleep.
Harry watched as Niall's back lifted up and down as he faced away from him, his blonde hair in a disheveled nest against the ruffled pillows. Harry walked over to Niall's side of the bed and stopped.
How sleeping made someone look so untouched, as if beholding the soft light within everyone, Harry would never know. He stared at Niall's plain face, snow-white and pale, and crowned with sunlight hair.
His hand seemed to gain a mind of its own as it slowly reached out so Harry's fingers would ghost over the sensitive, soft skin of Niall's cheek. He hovered over the sleeping boy's forehead and touched his bangs ever so lightly, feeling the feathered tips of his hair on the pads of his fingers.
And in a valiant swift of motion, he slid his fingers through Niall's hair and ran through it, seeing the locks bounce back into place after his hand petted him.
Harry worried his bottom lip; he looked so tiny and just so goddamn angelic,with his heart shaped pink lips that naturally pouted even in his sleep. Harry rested his hand just underneath Niall's ear as he cradled his jaw and leaned in.
