being short - niall centric

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Prompt: Niall hated being outnumbered by the boys’ heights. He was always ‘the small cute one’, but he hated being known as that. So one day, as he reached up to grab the cereal from the top shelf, he soon realised that his height was a disadvantage.

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“Damn it.” He muttered, lifting his back leg and trying to extend his arm further. “Nope, just..” He kept repeating. His actions were only hillarious for the four boys behind him, who only snickered at Niall’s difficulties.

“You think this is funny?” Niall asked, spinning round to face them, with flushed cheeks. “Wait, don’t answer. It’s not funny.” He said, pouting. Zayn chuckled and strolled over to Niall, before gently shoving him out of the way. Reaching up, Zayn didn’t even have to go on his tippy toes to reach the cereal, he just reached for it.

“I think we should start to put the cereal on a lower shelf.” Niall commented, pouring some into a bowl. “Or somewhere that Louis and I can reach.” He said.

“No, I can reach perfectly fine.” Louis said, reaching for a separate box of cereal – just to prove his point.

“Asshole.” Niall rolled his eyes and continued to eat his cereal.

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It’d been a few weeks and the boys were on their tour bus, Harry cooking in the kitchen. “Someone help me?!” He yelled, gaining the attention of the other four. Liam and Louis were intently playing a game of Fifa while Zayn was on Twitter. Niall was just watching, so he took it upon himself to help his British friend. 

“What’s up?” Niall asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Um, can you get me the flour?” He asked, looking towards his cake batter. Niall frowned.

“I won’t be able to reach that, Harry.” He said. Harry shrugged.

“There’s a stool right there.” Harry responded, a small smile lifting on the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I really need it. You wouldn’t want to stop my cake baking, would you?” Harry pulled the guilt game on Niall.

“Ugh, I’m getting it.” Niall stood on the stool and reached up for the flour, but still, to his dismay, it was out of his reach. He stood on the stool and went onto his tippy toes, his fingertips brushing over the packet of flour. “You can do it.” Niall whispered to himself. 

“Have you got it?” Harry asked, staring at Niall, an amused expression on his face.

“Does it fucking look like it?” Niall sassed, pushing his toes to the limit. He grasped the flour, but the stool wobbled last minute, and slipped from beneath his feet. “AHH!” He screamed as he tumbled down to the floor. Unfortunately, whoever used the flour last hadn’t sealed the packet properly, and it rained down on Niall like some sort of baptism. 

Harry simply stood, shocked, looking at his friend who was sat on the floor with a bewildered, but shocked expression latched on his face. “Are…are you okay?” He said, trying not to laugh. Niall just looked at Harry, and down at himself – covered in flour. 

Eventually, Harry gave in. He started to laugh (more like howl) and slid down the side of the kitchen island. “You crack me up.” Harry said in between laughs. The other three boys curiously emerged from the living area to the kitchen where they saw the sight of Niall sat on the floor, covered in flour, with an angry expression on his face, and Harry, laying next to him, laughing his butt off.

“What happened?”

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