Can Love You More Than This (Narry)

Chapter 8.

Harry woke up early, as he usually did. His eyes opened to a sleeping Niall and he couldn’t help but slowly smile at the sight. He closed his eyes for a minute, committing the sight to memory. Last night, he had finally accepted he was in love with the Irish lad and he wanted to kiss him, right then and there. But he couldn’t. Niall was with Ariette. And Niall fancied Ariette. Lots. There was absolutely no chance that Niall fancied Harry at all. They were just mates, after all.

He sighed sadly. He really needed to stop looking at him right then. As every second passed, his urges increased, as did his desire to jump on Niall and kiss him like an adorable, curly, dark-haired puppy while ripping off whatever he had on.

Like he had a lot on to begin with.

Harry sighed again lightly and got up out of bed. He desperately needed to get out of the room; it was getting harder and harder to fight his sexual urges as he continued to stare at the blond-haired lad. He turned around and headed for the door, but even as he left, he couldn’t help but sneak another peek at the boy and blush. Shaking his messy curls out of habit to prevent a bedhead look, he headed towards the kitchenette. He should make breakfast.

For Niall. And everyone else, of course. Louis would give him shit if he didn’t make him breakfast. But mostly Niall, since he ate way more than the average human and that made him really sexy.

Harry entered the little kitchen and began looking for pots and pans. As he found one, he felt a presence in the room with him and couldn’t help but turn around.

“Liam!” He nearly jumped back in surprise. Liam was sitting on a barstool, dressed in gym clothes, drinking his morning tea as he gave Harry a two-fingered wave.

“Mornin’ Hazza. What are you doing up so early?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I should be asking you that Liam. I’m usually up before you are anyway.”

“Oh, right.” He shrugged. “Well I needed to get a morning run in today. Haven’t done one in forever.” He flicked his finger in Harry’s direction. “Your turn.”

He looked at the pan in Harry’s hand. Harry felt as though he was turning a bit red, even though his intentions were as innocent as a puppy. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Cool. I’ll have two eggs over easy.” Harry rolled his eyes at Liam’s request, eggs were too easy to make, but reached into the fridge to grab a few. While he was cooking, Liam grabbed some silverware, no spoons of course, and set them on the table. Harry fried some eggs, slid them on a plate and placed them in front of Liam. He got some eggs from himself and sat in across from the older boy. They ate quietly for a few minutes before Liam coughed. Harry looked up.

“Was the nightmare that bad?” Liam asked with a hint of curiosity. Harry looked at him for a second, realizing what he said before blushing a shade of red and began trembling in fear. He looked down at his eggs, not knowing what to say next. Just thinking about the nightmare scared him. He gripped his fork tightly.

“Of course it was bad! How would you feel if Niall was dead? If any one of us was dead?” He nearly spat uncontrollably, trying to fight back the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. Liam’s eyes widened then dropped them to his own eggs, and immediately Harry regretted sounding so harsh. He hadn’t meant to spit at Liam, it just happened as the thought of it pained him deeply.

“Oh.” The Wolverhampton boy awkwardly made circles with his fork for a few minutes before saying anything. “That bad.” Harry nodded slowly and awkwardly stared at his eggs.

“What happened?” Liam couldn’t help but wonder aloud. Harry bit his lip and proceeded to tell him everything. He told him about his realistic nightmare and going to Niall, fearing that he was really dead and the Irish boy’s invitation to sleep in his bed for the night so he wouldn’t have the nightmare again. When he was finished, Liam looked at him with those insightful, thoughtful eyes of his and gave him a small smile.

“So you know how you feel about him now?” Liam asked quietly.

The deep shade of red returned to Harry’s face. “Yeah.” He paused. “I’m in love with Niall James Horan.”

“And did you tell him? That you loved him?”

“Of course not. He was already sleeping when I figured it out. It’s not like I can just wake him up.” Harry had a small smile on his face as he remembered the sleeping Niall from memory. “We both know he’s not a morning person. And besides, he’s with Ariette. And he fancies her. A lot.” He forked the last of his egg and frowned. “It’s not like he fancies me anyway.”

He looked out the window and absentmindedly pulled at a stray curl. “I mean, to him, we’re just bandmates. Hell, we’re just mates. He’s not in love with me like I’m in love with him.”

Liam shook his head in disappointment. As brilliant as Harry was, he can be so dense sometimes. He hadn’t seen what Liam and Louis had seen, and since Niall was dating Ariette, he hadn’t seen it either. “You should tell him, Harry. Tell Niall.”

“Tell me what?” An Irish voice said.

Both Harry and Liam whipped their heads at the sound and saw that Niall had entered the room.

Harry looked at Liam with a bit of fear, wondering about how much the Mullingar lad had heard.