I LITERALLY START MY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL IN THIRTY MINUTES. I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS CHAPTER AND THANK YOU FOR READING (AND SUPPORTING ME). GOTTA GO!
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❝NIALL❞
I huffed as I put the metal basin filled with boiling water down for the third time, doubling over to rest my hands on my knees. I swear to God I'm going to develop some back pains by the time I turn forty if I keep up this routine every day. I took a couple more deep breaths before picking up the basin once again and proceeded to waddle down the corridors to the bathroom.
As I tried to ignore my aching muscles, my thoughts began to drift over towards Harry and the little stunt he pulled this morning; embarrassingly enough, I completely forgot that I was supposed to be angry at Harry and accepted his stupid flowers. Regardless, it was actually quite charming. It has always been a dream of mine to receive a bouquet of flowers from somebody, but I had always hoped that that somebody would be Louis.
With the bathroom finally in view, I carefully turned around and pressed my back against the door, pushing it open just enough for my body and the basin before shuffling over towards the bathtub. Unfortunately, before I made it to the bathtub, the tip of my shoe caught onto the edge a loose floor board. My ankle gave way and the rest of my body immediately crumbled behind it.
Everything happened so quickly that I hardly had any time to react; my mind began to race as it tried to plan what my body would need to do next. Luckily, the first thing that my body decided to do was throw the basin, filled with hot water, away from me. My upper body twisted at an awkward angle to catch the rest of my body, ensuring that I wouldn't bump the back of my head against the floor.
I yelped in pain when the basin hit the ground and splashed a bit of boiling water onto my bare skin. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" I muttered, clenching my left forearm. I crawled over to the, bathtub—which was already half-filled with cool water—and dipped my arm inside. I bit the bottom of my lip to keep myself from crying out loud. Despite how strong I was trying to be, it was impossible to ignore the prickling tears.
After a few minutes of submerging my arm, I held onto the rim of the tub and attempted to pull myself up; a sharp pain immediately shot up my right leg from my ankle, and I collapsed back onto the floor with a cry.
"You've got to be kidding me," I wailed, rolling onto my side in annoyance and self-pity. My limbs sprawled across the floor and I laid there for several seconds, staring at the ceiling and wondering what a pain in the ass my ankle would be from now on; there was no doubt that I had sprained it.
"Fuck my life," I muttered, crawling over to the metal basin. I continued inching over towards the door on my knees—while dragging the basin behind me—for as long as I could until I reached the corridors.
I stretched for the doorknob and pulled my body up, leaning mostly on the door for support, since I had zero faith in my right ankle. I placed my foot down, testing the pain briefly before hissing and shaking my head. No way in hell was I going to be able to use this ankle for a couple of weeks.
I stared down at the basin in my hands and sighed, muttering dumb things like "why the fuck does Harry Styles need to bathe every fucking day" and "I can probably warm his bath with my fucking tears".
Eventually, I made it back to the kitchen and waited for the water to boil once again. My back slid down the wall and I sat on the floor, poking at my right ankle over and over again, praying that it would just stop hurting.
"Niall?" a voice called. My head perked up at the sound of my name and my eyes immediately softened when I saw that it was Luke.
"Help me," I whined, glancing up at him helplessly.
"What's wrong?" he asked, cautiously approaching me as if I was a wounded animal.
"I don't know what happened; I tripped over a floor board and I think I twisted my ankle. I can't really carry the basin by myself to Harry's bathroom," I explained, making a show of how useless my ankle was.
"Oh, geez," he replied, peeking over at my now swollen ankle. He wiped his hands carefully on his apron before returning his attention to me. "I'm basically done of the day, so if you'd like, I can definitely help you carry that," he smiled.
"God bless your beautiful soul," I cried, leaning my head back onto the wall in relief. The smile on my face disappeared after a few seconds when I realized that Luke wasn't always going to be able to help me and I would eventually have to return to carrying the water by myself.
Luke and I conversed with one another over petty topics—such as how Ashton had licked Sir Des' fork and was swooning over how he'd be sharing an indirect kiss with the man—while we waited for the water to boil. I began practice-walking around the room to make sure that my sprain would not appear so critical; one thing that I had learned since working here was to never show pain. Pain is weakness and it shows a person's incapability.
Unluckily for me, I've always been a rather weak child and often got sick; it was a miracle I haven't caught a cold, or something, all winter long—considering the fact that my bedroom is just below forty degrees and I didn't have a winter coat for a couple of days.
"The water's ready," Luke said, gesturing towards the pot. I let out a puff of air and limped over to the pot. A soft grunt escaped my mouth as I tipped the water carefully into the metal basin. "I've got it," he said quickly, tilting the pot back over the fire and shooing me away.
"Honestly, thank you so much," I exclaimed, reaching for one of the handles of the basin when Luke finished transferring the water. He sent me a glare before taking both of the handles into his own hands. Instead of carrying the basin like I should have, I ended up walking—well, more like limping—beside Luke.
The two of us chatted with one another as we passed through the courtyard and towards the servant's entrance to the main mansion.
"I've actually been meaning to ask you something," Luke said suddenly, glancing down at the water as he spoke. "How do you tell a friend that you really like them when you're afraid of messing up the current relationship that you have with them?"
"Are you talking about Ashton?" I laughed, glancing over at the taller boy. Luke dropped his head and nodded slightly; his cheeks began to redden and he turned his head away from me to hide his embarrassment.
"Mate," I sighed, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. "To tell you the truth, I don't even know. I'm in the exact same position as you. I've been in love with my best friend for the longest time ever, but he doesn't even notice me."
My throat felt like it, was collapsing in on itself and I blinked rapidly to keep myself from tearing up; it was rather uncomfortable how the mere thought of Louis could still bring me to tears. I cleared my throat before continuing.
"I think you should definitely tell him before he falls for somebody else. I'm sure we can both agree that the crush he has on Sir Des is a little outrageous," I laughed.
Silence fell between us as Luke contemplated on my words and I drowned myself in more thoughts that were relative to Louis.
"Who is this friend of yours?" Luke asked. He waited patiently for me to catch up to him and nodded towards the servant's entrance, asking me to open the door for him. "Is it perhaps Lance?"
"Are people seriously spreading that rumor?" I asked, cringing slightly. Even though Lance looked a hell of a lot like Louis and could sometimes make my heart beat faster just by breathing next to me, he definitely wasn't Louis. After many, many days besides Lance, my heart has finally been able to separate the two apart. "This friend that I speak of actually lives quite far from here. I don't think I'll ever be able to see him again."
"Guess we're both in the same boat," he smiled sadly. "I just wished there was some way I could show him how he makes me feel, you know? We're always around each other, and I'm certain he would never take anything that I say seriously, especially if I were to tell him about how I feel about him."
I nodded in agreement with Luke; I knew all too well how he feels. Fortunately for Luke, Ashton actually does bat for the same team. "Personally, I would take the more passive approach and try to get closer to him, physically," I said.
"I've been so physical with him recently; I don't think it's possible to be any more physical without getting into bed with him. He's so thickheaded!" Luke groaned in frustration.
"Even then, knowing Ashton, he'd probably just think that the two of you were wrestling naked or something," I laughed. Luke rolled his eyes and slouched a bit, clearly upset that all of his prior efforts have been in vain.
I limped in front of Luke pushed open the bathroom door, ushering him over to the bathtub. Luke temporarily gaped at how fancy the bathroom was as a whole. He approached the bathtub and ran his hand over its smooth surface.
"This is something," he said in amazement. "The nobles are on a completely different level."
Luke assisted me in transferring the water from the basin to the bathtub before returning to the kitchen. With the hard part now completed, all I had left to do was call Harry. I sighed and pulled my sleeves back down to cover my forearms; there was a slight pain from how oversensitive the skin on my forearm had become from the burn earlier.
On my way to Harry's bedroom, I practiced walking on my sprained ankle, hoping that I could make myself seem as natural as possible. My lip was probably all torn up and bleeding from the multiple times that I would bite down on it to keep myself from shamelessly crying out in pain.
By the time I had arrived to the room, my limping was not so obvious, per se; I was quite proud of myself for achieving this much in a mere short distance. Of course, whenever I applied a little too much pressure onto my right ankle, the pain would come back immediately.
I pushed open the bedroom door and peered into the room, sighing at Harry's sleeping figure on the bed; he often complained about not being able to sleep at night, but perhaps he could sleep better if he stopped passing out after his evening lessons.
Even though Harry often tries to come off as an independent individual, he still has an incredibly strong childish vibe. Frankly, I don't know how he survived this long on his own.
"Sir, the bath is ready," I said softly as I approached the bed. After a few seconds with no response, I cautiously reached my hand down and tangled it in his curls; it has been so long since I've been able to run my hand through his hair. Without much thought, I began playing with the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck, twirling it between my fingers.
I gently placed the back of my fingers onto his cheek and brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his face. Of course, that was the exact moment that he decided to wake up; his eyes snapped open, and he stared deeply into mine, questioning what I was doing. My hand froze in its position.
"I-I..." My lips quivered as I struggled to find the right words to say.
When I realized that my hand was still on his cheek, I pulled it away quickly. Harry abruptly sat up and grabbed my hand before it could retreat completely. My eyes widened as I watched him, much too afraid to ask what he was planning on doing next.
Harry maintained eye contact with me as he brought my hand back up to his face and pressed the palm of my hand to his cheek; his eyes fluttered shut as he slowly dragged my hand down from his cheek and to his lips, kissing the tips of my fingers lightly.
I didn't know what the hell Harry was playing at, but I couldn't keep myself from blushing. To save myself from too much embarrassment, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away.
"Look at me, Niall," he commanded, tightening his grip on my hand. I held my breath and slowly turned my head back to his direction. His eyes eventually caught mine once again, and he stared up at me as he lightly bit his bottom lip in anticipation.
I had the urge to kick myself in the face because he was just so damn attractive that it was actually pretty fucking unfair.
Without another word or any explanation, Harry stood up and pulled me into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. My entire body became rigid and I stood there like some stupid stone statue with my free arm awkwardly hanging in midair.
"Sir," I squeaked, pushing his shoulder with all of my might to get him away from me.
"I'm sorry, Niall," he muttered. "You're honestly the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I don't want to lose you. I'm sorry that I left those marks on you when I was intoxicated. I'm sorry that I always say hurtful things to you. I'm really trying to change, but I can't when the one person that I want to see me won't even look at me."
He pulled away from me took both of my hands in his. "Remember when you held my hands like this?" Harry asked, squeezing my hands lightly. "That was the real me; the scared little boy whose afraid of losing everybody who he's ever cared about. But you touched him, Niall. You were able to pull him out from the darkness, the one that I've been burying him in for years now. I know that I can sometimes be overbearing, but I wouldn't want anybody else beside me. I only want you."
To say that I wasn't expecting that would be the greatest understatement; I never thought that in a million years I would hear Harry pour his heart out to me once again. I was at a loss for words. The only thing I was able to do was stand there with my mouth hanging open like a trout.
I only want you. As his words began to sink in, my face began to heat up once again and I ducked my head down in embarrassment.
"Okay," I mumbled softly. Silence fell between us, and I was unsure if he had even heard me.
I was about to repeat it once again when Harry finally spoke up. "Okay," he said, releasing my hands slowly. "We should, uh, go to the bath now."
"Yeah," I laughed nervously, clearing my throat awkwardly after another silence presumed. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath before I began taking small, uncertain steps towards the door. I began chewing on my lip once again when an indescribable pain shot up my leg; I softly grunted every time I applied pressure onto my right foot.
I turned around to check on Harry, but thankfully enough, he was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice my struggles. I waited for him to pass me by before I continued limping behind him; thankfully, butlers were expected to walk behind their respective nobles anyways, so I could still limp sometimes when nobody was looking at me.
As Harry brushed past me, his shoulder lightly bumped into mine, just as I was shifting my body weight onto my right foot.
Well, fuck me.