"It's just another night, / and I'm staring at the moon. / I saw a shooting star / and thought of you. / I sang a lullaby / by the waterside and knew / if you were here, I'd sing to you. / You're on the other side / as the skyline splits in two. / Miles away from seeing you, / but I can see the stars from America. / I wonder, can you see them too?"
The lights outside are shining brightly into the window of my room. It's nearly three am, and the cars are still speeding down the road, as if there's something dreadfully important where they're going, and who knows; maybe there is.
My iPod changes songs as it sits in it's dock. I recognize the piano intro as a We The Kings song, although which one it is exactly is lost on me. Once the words begin, it clicks. I sing along, more off key than usual. "You and I, we're like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky."
I toss around on the large bed that I had so foolishly bought a few months back. I should have realized that nobody ever comes to L.A. with me, and I didn't need such a big bed for just one person.
Today was nice. It was calm. Having a few days off before we begin our tour, and being able to spend those days in Los Angeles? It's basically a recipe for perfection. The thing is- I can't fall asleep.
Turning onto my stomach, I grab my laptop from the nightstand and hope for the best as I log on. Clicking on the Skype icon, I log into the site and see who's on. My sister, Louis, Nick, and Zayn are all available. Doing the math, I realize it's eight am in England, and I decide that Louis is probably just playing video games.
I choose to ring him, and he accepts almost immediately. In no time at all, I'm staring at the smiling face of my gray eyed best friend. "Hello."
"What time is it there? Should you even be awake?" Louis asks me, pushing his hair out of his face. He's in his pajamas still, with his knees tucked to his chest and a cup (of what I assume is tea) in his hand.
"Almost three." I say, running a hand over my face.
"Holy hell, mate. Get to bed." He scolds me, taking a sip of his drink. I hear a voice off screen, and watch as Louis looks to the mystery person. "S'just Harry. He can't sleep."
"Who's there?" I ask, leaning forward as if doing that would give me a better look into Louis' living room.
"Liam's over. He spent the night last night."
"That's fun."
"Not really." Louis states. "He's all mopey, even after almost two weeks of being single."
Wait, what? "What? Liam," I address him personally even though he's not on screen. "You and Dani broke up?"
"You didn't know?" Louis asks incredulously. I watch as Liam sits down beside Louis, scooting into the frame.
"No, I didn't."
"I was going to tell you, but you've been busy with Niall." Liam shrugs. He looks worse than me in the tired department. I cannot believe that I didn't realize he was upset, even after all this time. It's not like I haven't seen him. Am I really that caught up in Niall?
"I'm so, so, so sorry for not being there and paying attention to you. I feel awful. How are you exactly?"
"I'm alright. Just bored, really. I don't want to go out, because nameless dance partners and one night stands are not what I need right now. And I've always hung out with Dani whenever I was bored. I'm not used to having nothing to do."
"Hey!" Louis interjects, sounding slightly offended. "I have kept you plenty occupied. I'm not boring, you jerk."
I laugh at that, but focus back to Liam. "Zayn will probably do things with you. We've got two days of vacation. I'm sure he'll go somewhere with you."
"I'll ask him. He's been wanting to go back to Miami for another tattoo, so-"
"Excuse me. It's Louis. Yeah, I'm sitting right here. You remember me right? The guy who would love to go to Miami with you, or New York, or Spain, or Paris, or wherever the fuck you want to go."
"I'm sorry." Liam half smiles and turns to face Louis. "Hello, Lou. Would you like to go to Milan with me today and tomorrow?"
"Oh my God, of course. Thank you so much for asking."
"Are you two done now?" I butt into the conversation, laughing quietly.
"Yeah, sorry. You were saying?"
"Nothing." I shrug. "I wasn't saying anything. I just can't fall asleep."
"Niall had to go to the doctor's this morning, so he's awake. Why don't you call him?" Liam suggests. "Louis and I need to buy plane tickets."
"Alright, fine. I guess I'll leave you two alone."
"Thanks mate. You're a godsend." Louis grins, waving goodbye before he leaves the video chat. I sign out of Skype and grab my phone like Liam suggested. I've got so many emails from Reese that I haven't opened counting up in the little red bubble. I would read them, but what's the point when I've got Niall relaying all the information back to me. It's like he knows I don't check my mail.
Calling Niall, I lay back down and try to get comfortable under the blankets. The ringing stops, and I hear Niall's voice on the other end. He sounds drunk. "What's up?"
"It's Harry."
"I know that, idiot. I can read my caller ID." Niall's voice is heavy and quiet.
"Are you drunk at eight o'clock in the morning?" I finally ask him, and he just laughs.
"No, mate. Not drunk. Pain meds. Hyped up on pain meds. Got my wisdom teeth pulled. God, it hurts like a bitch."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You should get some rest. I just-"
"Why did you call if you were just gonna hang up?"
"It's just that, I can't sleep. And Louis and Liam-
"Those two are probably fucking. I'd put money on it. We should tell Sugarscape, then we can change our name to One Direction: Gay. I quite like it." Niall laughs loudly, and I'm at a loss for words. He really should be talking right now. The pain medicine is not showing his brightest side.
"They aren't fucking, Niall. Lou's got a girlfriend, and Liam just needs a friend right now." I try to explain, but Niall snorts, effectively cutting me off.
"They're gay! Just like you, bro. Faggots, the lot of you. The only normal ones are me and Zayn." Niall rambles. "Although fifty quid that Zayn swings both ways. Like a playground. Makes sense. He's kinda a slut."
"Niall," I say gently. His words should offend me, but I know he's not in total control of what he's saying. "Don't call your bandmates names."
"Why not? It's what you are. You're a faggot. Louis' a faggot. Liam's a faggot now too. It's so disheartening. Zayn's a slut. I'm the only normal one. Why isn't my band just normal again?" He asks suddenly.
"What?"
"Why is everyone suddenly going crazy? Why are you gay? Why is Liam broken up? Why is Louis whining all the time? Why am I kissing boys? Why, why, why?" He sounds distressed, and I really have no clue what to do. I've never dealt with this before. Drunk Niall I've handled. But not this. This is something completely different, and I'm scared I'll fail this particular test.
"Niall, you have to calm down. Okay? Are you at home?"
"Yeah." He says.
"Can you go to your couch for me, and sit down? Please?" I'm speaking as softly and as gently as I can.
"Alright." Niall obeys, or at least it sounds like he does. "I'm on the couch now."
"Okay. Now, please. What's the matter? Are you sad about something?"
"My mouth hurts, Harry."
I laugh slightly. "Stop talking, then."
"But you just-"
"I know what I said, but if you're mouth hurts. Then you should just relax and stop talking." I explain, more forceful because that seemed to work earlier.
"But you asked if I was sad. I'm not sad."
"That's a start." I muse. "Are you angry?"
"All the fucking time. Especially at Reese's Pieces, and you sometimes too."
"Why?"
"I just- it's just- I can't-" Niall begins to cry, and I try not to freak out. He needs someone there with him. I can't help him if I'm thousands of miles away like this.
"Niall, what's wrong?"
"My mouth hurts so fucking much."
"Listen, I'm going to hang up alright?"
"Alright."
"I'm going to call Zayn, and tell him to go to your house. Is your door unlocked?"
"Yeah." Niall is still crying, and it's getting difficult to understand him, especially with his thick accent.
"He's going to come over and help you, okay?"
"Okay."
"Don't talk anymore, Niall. It's hurting you. Please don't talk. I'm going to call Zayn." I hang up, and immediately dial him. Whoever drove Niall home is an idiot for leaving him. Why would you leave someone who's in pain by themselves? He needs help.
"Hello?" I hear Zayn's sleep ridden voice.
"Go to Niall's. Please. He's crying, and he's in pain from getting his wisdom teeth out, and he keeps talking. Whoever took him dropped him off at home and left him. I don't know what to do. Just go over there, please."
"I'll be there." He doesn't question.
"Thank you."
"Go to bed, Harry. It's late in Los Angeles." Zayn hangs up without a goodbye, and I put down my phone with a sigh. I'm strangely thankful for my insomnia, otherwise nobody would have known about Niall, and I can't have him in a state like that. It's killing me just thinking about it.
Honestly, I want to strangle whoever it was that took him to the surgeon and then just left him at home. I'm sure the nurses told them that Niall needed to be attended to. Who the hell abandons a person in pain? I bite my lip in my anger.
It takes me nearly an hour to fall asleep, and even then it isn't restful. My mind is on overdrive, coming up with numerous scenarios involving Niall getting hurt. More than half also involve me saving him, although I don't think he would take well to that in real life. He's not one for needing a knight in shining armor (something that I also might have imagined).
By the time I wake, it's nearly one in the afternoon, and half of my day has been wasted. My phone is buzzing with a text from Zayn that says he's with Niall, who is okay. For the first time in nine hours, I relax. Laughing slightly, I realize how stupid I'm being. It's not as though Niall was dying. He simply hurt after surgery. I'm ridiculous. Well, ridiculously in love is probably a better way to put it.
I decide then and there that I have to tell him. I can't handle not knowing whether or not he's just faking along, of if he really does like me. It's a toss up, and the uncertainty is killing me slowly.
We haven't had a single argument this week. Not even a petty one we make up purely to have a conversation. It's in this that I at least know he doesn't hate me anymore. I don't hate him either, clearly. The reason behind our constant bickering before Narry is slowly fading into obscurity. I barely remember my logic, and I'm certain he forgets his.
That is for sure. We are friends.
The question is if we have the possibly to be more than that, at this point. I know Niall is straight, I do. But every time I'm with him, and every time he proves his acting ability with me- I can't help but have a spark of hope that perhaps I can be an exception.
People have exceptions right? Louis hates tea, except Yorkshire. Liam thinks Marvel is stupid, except for the Avengers. Zayn doesn't like female artists, except his fiancé's band. Niall likes girls...and me?
I'm not overtly manly like Liam. I could be just feminine enough for Niall. I've never worn a dress, but if he needs me to, I will. If that's what it takes. I'll do it. I want him to be mine that much.
I shake my head to attempt deleting that thought. It's so sad that I would be willing to do that just for a guy to like me. I need to stop thinking about this. I'm in L.A. I should be having the time of my life, not sulking about whether my love is unrequited or not.
Getting up, I stumble to my closet and grab whatever my hands come into contact first. It seems that means I'm not going to match today, but it's not that I care, honestly. People make fun of my clothes anyway. I might as well keep them amused.
My phone rings, and I nearly fall down trying to simultaneously put jeans on and walk to pick it up. Without check it, I answer. "Hello?"
"Harry, what did I say to you this morning?" Niall's words are rushed and worried.
"Should you be talking yet?" I avoid his question.
"No. But I need to know what I said to you. I honestly don't remember. All I remember is crying, and you telling me to sit down, and asking if I was okay. What did I tell you?"
"It doesn't matter, Niall. Don't worry-"
"It's too late to tell me that! I'm worrying my ass off."
"You need to calm down, and stop talking. You're probably bleeding still. You need to put your gauze back in. Seriously, I can't-"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Harry. What did I say?"
I'm quiet for a moment, walking back over to pick up the shirts I pulled out. "You were saying how you thought Louis and Liam were gay, and you called them and me faggots. You-"
"Oh my God, I can't believe that I-"
"called Zayn a slut. Then you said you were mad because nothing is normal anymore." I continue, not allowing him to interrupt until I'm done. "And you're upset because you have to kiss boys."
"Is that it?" Niall asks after a moment of loaded silence.
"Pretty much."
"I'm so, so, so sorry." He echoes my exact words from earlier this morning. "I can't believe I said any of that. It was the drugs, I swear. They gave me morphine and whatever else it was. I wouldn't have said any of it if I was myself."
"It's okay." I say simply.
"No," he laughs sadly. "It's not okay at all."
"Yes it is. Niall, you could say anything you wanted to, and I wouldn't care one bit about how offend I should be over it. I love you so much, that you could be telling me that you murdered my family and I would probably still ask you on a date. Alright? So it's okay." My mouth is on autopilot, and the words escape before I can filter and screen them. Shit. Shit. Shit.
"What?"
"You should put your gauze back in."
"Harry. What did you just say to me?"
I look out the window; wishing I was anywhere but here, wishing I had said anything else. "I love you."
"But...but we hate each other." Niall stumbles over his words, and I can tell he's at more of a loss than I am, if that's even possible.
"Not anymore, I guess." I laugh, but it's not funny.
"Oh." Niall is quiet. "Harry..."