Me
Two weeks passed and I kept an eye on Niall, who was still left unfairly in the dark. That bothered me, but Fitz and I were back on track, which balanced things out. She and I spent one lazy Sunday morning on the couch, both of us painfully hungover from going out the night before.
"I feel like I've been dragged through eight kilometres of shit and then beaten on the skull with a hammer," Fitz whined. She was curled into a ball on the couch, her head resting on my lap.
"Sheer poetry, baby," I murmured in response.
I was stretched out, my head resting on the back of the couch with my legs propped on the coffee table. The telly was on, but neither of us felt well enough to watch it and instead lounged with our eyes closed, every so often moaning to one another about our sorry states.
"I drank more than this in uni all the time," she continued. "Why can't I do it anymore?"
"Because our bodies hate us," I answered simply. "We're old and decrepit now."
"It's not fair. We're twenty-two."
"I'm twenty-three."
"God," she groaned, covering her face with her hand. "You're ancient."
"You'll be catching up this summer."
"Shut up."
"Are you in your mid-twenties when you're twenty-three?"
"Stop."
"Or is that reserved for between twenty four and twenty-seven?"
"You're making me throw up."
"If our bodies reject fun now, what's it going to be like then?"
"Idiot," she grumbled, and with that, she stood abruptly and raced to the loo. I sat up in confusion until my head began to throb, and then I flopped back against the couch and listened to the tap running as Fitz brushed her teeth.
My eyes fluttered open when she returned. Buried in my sweatshirt with the hood pulled over her hair, she wore a dry, unimpressed expression, her cheeks paled.
I grinned. "Did you actually vomit?"
She curled up on the other side of the couch, purposely away from me. Upper lip curled, she deigned to respond, "We're fighting."
I chuckled to myself and mumbled an apology. Folding my arms across my chest to retain warmth, I spent the next two hours dozing on and off.
But I was certainly awake when sex noises filtered into the common area through the walls. I knew Niall Horan's sexual patterns more than any man should, and one thing was certain: he enjoyed the 'on-again' periods with Claire mostly due to the opportunity for morning-after shags.
On cue, Fitz reached for the remote and increased the volume on the telly while I grabbed my laptop from the coffee table and opened my music folder. It was peculiar that we had this down to a science, but I considered it teamwork.
When Claire emerged from the bedroom several minutes later and Niall trailed behind, proudly running his fingers over the scruff on his chin, we were ready.
Fitz dulled the volume on the telly while I blared 'I Just Had Sex.' The both of us, less hungover than before, plastered shit-eating grins on our faces.
In good humour, Claire laughed, swatting me across the back of the head and chiding, "Oh, you."
Niall flipped me off as he passed, not at all amused.
Ah, the glare that made it all worth it.
When they exchanged farewells at the door, Fitz and I waved to Claire over the back of the couch.
'Never guess where I just came from, I had sex/if I had to describe the feeling, it was the best...'
"Would you shut that off!" Niall cried in annoyance. Chuckling, I merely decreased the volume.
"... got to be going," Claire was saying. "I haven't done any meal plans for this week. The kids are going to starve if I don't get my shopping done."
Niall grunted in acknowledgement.
"If you have Thursday off, you could always take the train down for a visit," she suggested. "Play with the kids for a little while. That might be fun for you."
"Maybe," Niall replied, hesitant when it came to commitment.
"All right. Bye, sweetums. See you soon."
Fitz and I cringed at the sloppy sound of their kiss echoing throughout the flat. But the mention of kids reminded me of Niall's predicament, and I wondered if Claire had told him yet. Probably not. She probably wanted to assess his behavior around the kids at her childcare centre before informing him that he'd have one of his own before he knew it.
It had been long enough. He had to know.
With a sideways glance to Fitz, who sat up on the couch and appeared to be feeling better, I sensed we weren't thinking of the same thing. In fact, she didn't seem bothered at all.
Niall joined us in the common area, collapsing sideways on an armchair.
"Going to Bristol on Thursday, Niall?" Fitz teased him. "Play with the kiddies?"
He shook his head, not a trace of a smile in his grimacing expression. "I gotta get out of it," he said, almost pleadingly. "She thinks we do stuff now. Like, in the middle of the day... in the middle of the week... it's insanity."
"Yeah," I said, nodding without sympathy
"She's barking mad to get that idea after a year of hooking up."
"Right?!" Niall asked, failing to read my sarcasm. "It's got to end. No more."
Niall often swore off Claire only to call her up again the next time he wanted to get laid. Nobody took him seriously when he said it was the last time.
Except this time, I had to make sure that it really wasn't.
"Hey," I said to Niall, sitting up and changing the subject. "You up for the gym?"
He shrugged before nodding in agreement.
It was a place I could get him alone, a place where Fitz wouldn't follow us. So, after a peck on the lips, I left her the couch to herself and joined Niall with a reason for him to keep Claire around.
*
In retrospect, perhaps I picked the wrong time to tell Niall that he'd knocked up Claire.
Niall was on his back doing bench presses, and as soon as I said the word "pregnant," his arms turned to jelly. As his spotter, I rushed to lift the weight off his chest as he lay there lifelessly, choked and breathless.
"All right?" I asked as I heaved the bar to its resting place.
"All right?" he squeaked, the air stolen from his lungs. "How am I supposed to be all right?"
"Here. Sit up."
Nearly limp, Niall let me do most of the work of tugging him to a sitting position.
"Take a drink," I said, offering him my water bottle.
Niall took it and squirted it on his beet red face. When that didn't provide him with the refreshment he needed, he squirted it on his hair. It was when I realized we were getting strange looks from others in the gym that I yanked the bottle out of his hands.
"Enough," I said, giving him a light slap on the cheek. "Look, I know you're probably feeling scared and overwhelmed, but my best advice is to—"
"I can't do it, Harry," he said, staring blankly at a fixed point on the ground as he shook his head. "You have to get me out of it."
I gave him a chance to retract his words, and when he said nothing, I cried, disgusted, "No! You're allowed to be scared, but you're not getting out of it, tosser."
"Holy shit," he breathed. "I never thought... I didn't mean for this to happen. What am I gonna do? I can't... I can't do this."
"Yes, you can."
"What about my films?" For the first time, Niall tore his gaze from the ground and looked up at me, his eyes rimmed with terror and regret.
I shrugged, trying to muster sympathy even though his films shouldn't have been his first concern. "Maybe they'll have to take a backseat for a while."
Niall gulped. "What'll I do?"
"I don't know," I said as gently as I could. "I don't have all the answers. But I suggest you talk it over with Claire. Find out where she is in all of this."
"Claire..." he said, his voice merely a whisper. Abruptly, he stood, panic flashing on his features. "Holy shit. Claire." He turned to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, staring unfalteringly into my eyes. "Holy motherfucking shit," he swore. "Claire. She's having my baby."
"Yeah, I know," I said, trying to back away. Having apparently regained his strength, Niall held my shoulders firmly which made it difficult to shrug him off.
"I'm having a baby with a thirty-two year old woman. Oh my God. What do I do, Harry? My mum's gonna shit all over me."
"That's fine," I snapped, grabbing his wrists one by one to remove his hands from my shoulders. Taking a few steps back, I lowered my voice to a whisper after a dose of more strange glances from onlookers. "Look, you're making a scene."
"I can't bloody help it! Holy shit balls, I can't do this!"
"Fine. Fine!" I hissed, giving him a push in the direction of the change rooms. "Just hold it together for thirty seconds. That's all I ask."
And he did. He held it together for those thirty seconds before trying to drown himself in the shower and then jump from the second storey railing to the main floor of the rec centre. I finally calmed him down with a giant biscuit from the cafeteria and we rode back to the flat in silence, me leaving Niall alone with his thoughts.
Though he still jittered with nerves, he managed a weak smile as we entered the lift.
"One good thing out of this, I guess," he said.
"What's that?"
"We're related now, aren't we? Real brothers."
I frowned. "How do you figure?"
He made the connections with his fingers, pointing at obscure locations in the air. "Misty's your stepmum. Claire's her sister. My baby's gonna be, like... your cousin." He thought about this before adding, "Which makes me... your uncle."
I let this sink in, my face going slack.
Finally, I cursed in disbelief. "Fucking Christ. Look what you've done!"
It was difficult to imagine my family being even more fucked up. Just a year ago, it was only my father and me. All of a sudden, without any of my doing, Niall was my bloody uncle.
"Hey," Niall said, grabbing a hold of my arm to ask me to stop before entering the flat. "Who knows about this?"
"Me and Fitz."
"Nobody else?"
I shrugged. "I haven't said a word. Fitz doesn't even know that I know. Don't mention it to her until you've talked to Claire – she'll murder me."
"Yeah. All right," Niall said with a nod, deep in thought. I was about to unlock the door to the flat when Niall grabbed me again. "Harry?"
"Niall?"
"What do you think of 'Spike'?"
I paused, needing further elaboration. "As...?"
"A name," he answered, as if it was obvious. He was quick to add, "If it's a boy. You know, after Spike Lee. Or Spike Jonze. Both tremendous directors. You ever see 'Where the Wild Things Are'?"
...
For someone who'd tried to fling himself off a second storey less than thirty minutes before, Niall was suddenly coping magnificently with the news of fatherhood. Far better than anyone who actually understood the ramifications of the situation at hand.
Wanker.
Refusing to grant him a response, I simply turned on my heels and went inside. Niall followed, muttering under his breath, "Your uncle deserves some bloody respect."
The sweet smell of brunch filled my senses immediately upon entering, and as I stepped further into the unit, I saw that Fitz wasn't alone. Seated on stools at the kitchen counter were Finley, from across the hall, and Jamer, Niall's idiot friend whose facial scruff had reached epic proportions. Busy over the stove, Fitz had showered and dressed in our absence. From the way she was standing upright, it appeared that she'd recovered from her hangover just as I had.
Niall joined me outside the kitchen, and together, we said rather rudely, "What are you doing here?"
My question was directed at Jamer. Niall's, on the other hand, was aimed at Finley.
The male and female at the counter exchanged a glance, both allowing the other the opportunity to go first.
In fact, Fitz beat them both to the punch, whirling around wielding a spatula.
"Jamer popped by to see what Niall was up to and I went over and invited Finley for brunch. Thought she could use the company seeing as her flatmate sleeps all day."
Niall seemed to accept this, albeit reluctantly. He dropped his gym bag in the hallway and promptly pulled up a stool next to Jamer outside of the kitchen. Then he leaned over the counter, looking at me expectantly. "Bunny, how about a glass of juice, huh?"
"Oh, come on!" I groaned, though I had already kicked his bag to the side and was on my way to the cupboard for a glass. "Lazy arse. Finley, anything?"
"Water would be great, thanks."
I nodded.
"Can I second Niall's juice?" Jamer asked.
"Huh," Finley remarked as Fitz snorted with laughter. "Man's got good juice, huh?"
Unashamed by what he'd insinuated, Jamer leaned in close to her. "Tropical punch," he told her matter-of-factly, popping the 'p'.
Moments later, I presented Finley with a glass of water and Niall with his requested juice. To Jamer, I gave an empty glass.
"What's this?" he asked.
I gestured to Niall. "You asked for his juice, no?"
Finley smiled in approval of the joke and, rather self-satisfied, I left him puzzling. I approached Fitz from behind as she stood over the stove, placing a hand on either side of her on the oven handle. Leaning forward to rest my chin on her shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a gigantic omelette in the frying pan.
She worked in silence while I watched her add the cheese and flip over the eggs so that the cheese melted. When she was satisfied, she used the dull end of a fork to cut off a piece and looked over her shoulder to pop it into my open-and waiting mouth. I chewed thoughtfully, eventually looking her in the eye and nodding happily.
Fitz nudged me out of the way to begin doling the meal onto plates, and I reluctantly turned my attention back to the three at the counter.
"You can hold him, if you want," Jamer was saying to Finley, who was curiously studying el Che as he bathed under the light in his tank. "All you have to do is..."
It was while he was awkwardly reaching his arm into the tank that Niall swatted him out of the way with a scowl.
"No, no," Niall said. "He gets scared when he sees a big mass of flesh descending on him. It has to be done like this..."
Finley observed somewhat skeptically, her brows lifted, as Niall slowly reached in.
I sauntered over to the counter, stuck my arm into the tank and zoomed past Niall's slowly descending hand to pick up el Che by his shell. Amidst Niall's protests, I lifted him up and proudly showed him to Finley.
"And that's how you pick up The Fucking Turtle," I announced. Once he'd receded into his shell, I carefully handed him over to Finley. "He won't bite so long as you don't put your finger directly in front of his face as Niall has done... on several occasions."
"All right, Flirty," Niall said, shooting daggers at me. "Calm yourself, got a girlfriend behind you."
I frowned, shrugging in amusement. Flirty?
"I wasn't..." I began, and when I looked over my shoulder, Fitz was glaring at me, not at all amused. I laughed at the absurdity of her belief in Niall's claim. "I wasn't!" was all I could insist.
Fitz rolled her eyes, but was saved from further protests by the obnoxious buzz of my mobile.
"He's slimy," Finley was saying, scrunching her freckled nose. "I like the patterns on his stomach."
"Yeah, they're amazing," Niall agreed, still effectively cutting Jamer off from the conversation. "I could stare at 'em all day."
"Hello?" I said into the receiver once it had reached its third ring, turning my back on the idiots marveling over The Fucking Turtle.
"Harry! Hi," a cheerful voice rang in my ear. "How are you?"
"Oh," I said, my voice dulling when I realized who it was. Misty – more commonly known behind her back as Muffy – was my father's wife. She was young enough to be his daughter – and my sister – and I'd found her to be extremely excitable and not entirely bright. "Fine. And you?"
"Wonderful," she said, taking care to stress the word as if it didn't already imply awesomeness all by itself. "We miss you, though. It's been ages."
We. Muffy always made sure to say we, as though my father and she were a collective unit. I didn't buy it.
"Yeah," was all I could think to murmur. "Too bad you couldn't have stopped in two weeks ago when you were in town for Louis' wedding."
"Yeah," I repeated, having nothing else to say.
Fitz bustled past me to pick up the last couple of plates for delivery. She slid one to me, making sure I saw it before vanishing from sight to eat.
"Is work going well?" she asked. "Your father's been reading Myriad reports and says you're launching a new product soon."
Reading Myriad reports. Not once had he called me to ask about it.
"Yeah. It's quite busy, I guess."
"Well, don't overwork yourself. If you're anything like your father, you spend entire days holed up in your office and forget to eat!"
I made a sound, though I wasn't quite sure what to call it. A grunt, perhaps. Anything to sound like I was listening when in reality, I wanted to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
"How is Niall doing these days?"
Muffy had been entranced by Niall's filmmaking skills when she'd viewed a film he'd entered in a film festival in uni. She'd paid him to film their wedding, which happened to be the night he met Claire.
The night that would ultimately make him my uncle.
"He's..." I trailed off, searching for an adjective. Glancing over my shoulder, Niall was attempting to coax The Fucking Turtle out of its shell with a bit of egg from the omelette. Finley appeared cynical, which only strengthened his determination.
And yet, apparently, I was flirty.
And he had fathered a child with another woman.
Returning to my mobile, I sighed. "Sorry... was there a reason you called?"
"Oh. Yes!" she exclaimed. "It's been so long since we've seen you, and your father and I would love to take you and June out to dinner this week."
Shit.
I inhaled sharply. "Well, I'm working fairly late these days, and June has a new job, which might make it difficult for us to get to Cheshire..."
"Your father has business in Birmingham tomorrow. I'll come with him and we'll meet you there. How's that?"
Clearly, she'd thought this through. I had no further excuses on the tip of my tongue.
"Um... I guess that's all right for me. Dunno about June, though. One moment – I'll ask her."
Twisting around to the activity happening behind me, I saw Fitz next to Jamer, both of them laughing at Niall, who was cursing The Fucking Turtle for its bite.
"Fitz," I said, calling her attention, "are you working tomorrow night?"
"She's free!" Muffy said into my ear.
"Oh," I said before Fitz could reply. "You asked her already."
I should have known. Muffy loved Fitz almost as much as I did, and there was no way she'd bother to ask me about Niall over Fitz. At first, Fitz had thought her rather silly and inauthentic, but over the course of the year, the pair of them had become quite good friends.
Which was ever so slightly bothersome to me.
Realizing who had me on the line, Fitz's laughter subdued and she became quiet, keeping an eye on me as I spoke.
"Yes, earlier this morning," Muffy confirmed. "So what do you say? Tomorrow evening at seven? At... what's that Italian place your father loves? Giorgio's?"
"Yeah. All right. We'll see you there, then."
I slid my mobile back into my pocket and got my plate, holding it with one hand as I leaned against the counter and used my fork with the other. Niall was washing his hands after being bitten by The Fucking Turtle, who had been returned to his tank, and Jamer and Finley appeared to be replaying the incident in their own mocking words, much to Niall's chagrin.
Fitz, however, still had her eyes on me. I chewed slowly as we exchanged a lingering glance, reading apology in her gaze.
Expression blank, I shrugged before lowering my eyes to my plate.