Fake (N.S)

46. (!)

Niall's POV

"So...you thought I could help you?" Zayn asked, taking a drag from the cigarette held between his two fingers. His brow was raised, obviously either in confusion or amusement. Knowing Zayn, it was probably both. 

"Well, Harry was being useless. I really don't need to hear someone tell me that it's my decision. I know it is but my issue is that I have no idea what to do," I sighed.

"Niall, I can't just tell you whether you should forgive your mother or not. Harry's right, you're the only person who would know if having a relationship with her is worth it. No one can make that decision but yourself," he replied.

"But what if I make the wrong one?" I asked, frowning at him.

"You're smart, you'll figure it out. Whatever happens, you'll always have Harry behind you. Personally, I think he spends a little too much time behind you," he murmured.

"What? I-- Zayn, shut up," I hissed, my cheeks flushing red, drawing an amused laugh from Zayn.

"Couldn't resist," he smirked.

"Well try harder, cause I'll fucking hit you if you so much as imply anything else about my sex life," I muttered, trying not to show Zayn that he had flustered me to this point.

"Niall, I'm not scared of you. And no, I'm not scared of Harry either, so don't try and get him involved," he grinned.

"You're supposed to be helping me," I whined. "And no one's scared of Harry, I wouldn't bother getting him involved. The worst he'll do is tell some god-awful joke and get upset when you don't laugh at it."

"I am helping you. Your mind's off of your problem, isn't it?" he grinned.

"I-- well, yeah. But now it's back on it and I'm still clueless," I frowned. "I thought you were the insightful one that gives helpful advice."

"I do give you helpful advice. Need I remind you that I was the one who helped you sort out your feelings for Harry?"

"Not really. I had feelings for Harry before I even spoke to you," I shrugged.

"Well, who do you think convinced Harry to stop running from his feelings and take you out on a date. If it weren't for me, you would both be doing that weird fuck and not speak for a few days thing," he replied.

"We would have figured it out eventually. Things always fix themselves eventually."

"See, there's the answer to your current predicament," he smirked.

"You-- I fucking hate you."

~

Harry sighed, closing his bedroom door with his foot, before I moved forward to push him into it, my chest pressed flush against his.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, his hands moving to my behind and cupping it gently.

"You say that as if we've never done this before," I raised my eyebrow, my hands moving up his already bare chest and gripping his biceps. "You don't have to ask me every time you want to do something."

He hummed, kissing down my jaw and onto my neck.

"I always like to be sure," he murmured, kissing my lips properly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth and tugging it, before pulling away and grinning at me.

I rolled my eyes, pulling my shirt over my head and allowing him to guide me over to his bed.

He lay on his back, allowing me to kiss down his neck, savouring the noises he was making as my lips moved lower. My hands moved down to the waistband of his jeans, undoing them and dragging them down his legs, exposing his erection.