Over the next few days, things are slightly awkward between the two. Harry comes in to feed Niall at the same time and asks his if he needs to dress any more wounds, but Niall always tells him that he's already starting to feel better and everything is healing fine.
Harry's been trying to make sense of what happened in the cellar that one day. He's never looked at someone so intently like that, especially another man.
Harry's heard stories about homosexuals, and remembers being terrified of them. He always thought they were pedophilic and disgusting, especially after hearing about a young boy getting raped and killed outside a molly-house disguised as a coffeehouse, by a group of three or four older men, most of which were in their thirties and forties. At least, that's what the newspaper said. From then on, he's been terrified of ever walking into the wrong place.
However, now that he thinks about it, he's never actually met or tried talking to anyone known for being homosexual, not that there were that many out in public. They could just be normal people.
When he goes back to see Niall that day, they sit in silence for a good few minutes after Niall finishes eating, until Niall finally breaks the tension with, "Why are you acting so strange suddenly?"
Harry recoils, "What? I'm not acting strange."
"Yes, you are, and you have ever since you cleaned me up. Was it the blood?" Niall inquires.
"No." Harry responds, taking Niall's empty cup and getting ready to stand so he can leave.
"Then what was it?"
"Nothing, Niall. Nothing happened. I'm not acting strange. I'm acting the same as I always do."
"Bullshit," Niall calls, his face scrunching up. "was it all the touching? Did that make you uncomfortable? 'Cause I could've easily cleaned my wounds myself if it bothered you that much."
"No, Niall. The touching didn't make me uncomfortable. I wanted to help you." Harry regurgitates.
"Well, something obviously happened. Was it something that happened outside of here? Are people talking?"
"People are always talking, Niall. They all think I should just come in here and kill you straight out for what you did to us."
"Then why don't you? I'm not of any use to you, or to anybody. I can't make a map, and the second they find that out, I'm a dead man. I'd rather go now and be killed by you than live in agony and die at the hands of them."
"I'm not gonna kill you, and I will kill anyone else that even tries!" Harry exclaims. He's getting frustrated now, but mostly at himself, because he doesn't know how to tell Niall that getting distracted by his lips is what made him put back up the layer of defense around his brain that was knocked down previously by Niall's kindness. Only now, it's not up to protect him from getting too emotional when his comrades die. It's up to protect his feelings from getting hurt if Niall were to reject him or, even worse, resent him.
"Why not?" Niall yells back.
"Because I care about you!" Harry cries, gathering his belongings before bolting out of the bunker. He locks the door behind him before racing back to his tent, not even thinking about returning the cup right now.
The next day, Harry dreads returning to Niall. He apologized to the kitchen workers for not returning the cup after lunch, but they fill it up with water for him anyway.
When he opens the door, he can hear Niall sit up on the inside. He continues on his same route to light the lamps, and hands Niall the hardtack and cup of water. Niall takes them silently.
After Niall finished eating, he makes it a goal of his to drink his water very slowly. Harry watches on, not wanting to rush him, but he really just wants to leave and come back later for the cup.
Suddenly, Niall speaks up, "I used to be a prostitute." Harry doesn't really know why he tells him, since he knows of a few men that used to sell their body to fawning, wealthy women, normally those that recently lost their husbands. But then, he adds, "For men."
Harry is taken back, "What?"
Niall sighs, "I used to work at a brothel in Ireland, trying to get some extra cash to pay for my trips here. I come to the states every summer to see my uncle and help out on his farm. I was originally just gonna be a barkeep, but then I started getting... compliments. A few women that would come by would try to compel me, trying to get me to sleep with them."
"How old were you?" Harry asks.
"Just barely eighteen. Most of these women were much older, probably some in their fifties. It made me feel... uncomfortable. But then, one of them offered me a lot of money if I would sleep with her daughter. I didn't know why at first, but she was adamant about it. So I did."
Harry furrows his eyebrows, "But you just said..."
"Let me finish." Niall speaks up again, sending Harry a look. "I met up with this girl; she was thirty-five years old. As a little eighteen year old, I didn't know what to expect. I'd never had sex before." Niall takes a breath. "Anyway, when I went to meet her, she seemed interested at first. She was seducing me, sitting on my lap, kissing me all over. But then when she made a move for my trousers, I just... panicked. I didn't want to lose my virginity to this woman. But when I freaked out, she just smiled and said 'I knew it.' I was so confused. I backed away from her, trying to leave, but she said 'I know you're a homosexual. It's okay. I am too.'
"At first, I was scared. I had a little bit of an inkling that I was different, since I had never been physically attracted to a female before, but I never had been to a male either. But then she told me that it was okay for me to be different, and she told me of a place where homosexuals usually meet." Harry knows what he's going to say. He's familiar with them. "A molly-house."
"But how did this--" Niall sends him another look, silencing him.
"I went to this place, scared shitless. But when I walked in, everything was just... normal. All these men were just talking and laughing together, having a great time. Everyone was so nice and accepting of me, especially since I was the youngest. They also said they were proud of me for knowing so early in my life. Most of them didn't realize after they got married, or their wives died, or something like that. They all told me of their experiences and how they came to terms with it, the places they went, who they did and didn't tell. It was fascinating.
"I tried dating, at first. Most of these men were much older than me, but there were a few in their mid-to-late twenties. Nothing ever really seemed to work out. I was so young and inexperienced, and I was terrified of ever outing myself in public. But one day, a man came to the bar that I still worked at, and he said he'd love to get me into bed with him. Quietly, of course. He was twenty-three years old. That night, I lost my virginity. To him.
"After we had sex, he tried paying me. I didn't think of it as prostitution thing. I thought it meant something to him. It sure as hell meant something to me. When I told him to keep it, he said he always paid his 'good fucks', and said he'd love to see me again for 'another round'. I was so embarrassed. I felt... useless? Used? Maybe both. After that, I fell down this hole of feeling so bad about myself that I began selling my body to the men at the molly-house. Any man that ever complimented me I'd sleep with. It paid a lot better than being a simple barkeep. But, more importantly, I wanted it to mean something. I wanted to mean something." Niall pauses. "But I didn't, to any of them. They'd fuck me and pay me, I'd go home at the end of the night and they'd go back to their domestic partners, or lovers, or would just go back to the molly-house and pretend it never happened. I was only useful for fucking for almost five years. Never once did a domestic partner come along for me, never once did these men let me stay over the night, never once did I mean anything to anyone."
Niall finishes, and the room falls silent. Harry doesn't know what to say. He wasn't expecting Niall to reveal his entire backstory, even though, he didn't cover how he got roped into this war. Why he started fighting.
"Why did you tell me this?" Harry asks. He appreciates Niall's honesty for telling him, but he knows how risky it must've been. Niall doesn't know Harry's standpoint on homosexuals.
"You said you would never kill someone you care about; well, do you still care about me now, knowing I'm a nancy?" Niall reasons.
Harry blanches, "I would never kill you. Ever. I don't care what kinds of people you like, you still deserve to live."
Niall blinks a few times, "What?"
"You're still a human being. You have a life and a family; you don't deserve death just because you're not attracted to females. Hell, I don't even think I'm attracted to females either."
Niall looks down at his lap, and then back up to Harry. "You're fine with me being homosexual?"
"I'm obviously a bit surprised, but I know you're a good person. That doesn't depend on what gender you prefer."
Niall sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it. Harry is hyper-aware of him doing it, and his eyes flicker down to them for a moment before returning to Niall's eyes. He takes a heaving breath, before replying with tears in his eyes, "Thank you, Harry."
Harry smiles and scoots closer to Niall, leaning against the wall next to him. "Why were you so determined to get me to kill you? Do you want to die that badly?"
"Not necessarily. I just... I feel like dying is the only way out, at this point. The people I'm trying to protect would never know how hard I fought for them if I return unscathed. I'm not gonna die in the heat of battle anymore, I'll probably never see the outside of this room again. I would've preferred dying on the battlefield, but dying at the hands of someone is much more valiant than dying of starvation, or disease." Niall shakes his head. "I don't even think I'm making sense."
"You aren't. I feel like returning to your family after a war would be even more valiant than dying during it. It proves you fought so hard, not just for your life, but to get back to them, too. But I understand where you're coming from, wanting to die fighting than cowering in fear. But even still, you're not unscathed. Your bruises and scars prove how much you fought."
"I've..." Niall pauses. "I've never thought of it like that."
"Then you must really have a death wish." Harry jokes, bumping Niall's shoulder with his.
"I'll try to be less morbid about it from now on. If I die or if return to my family... I'll be happy."
Harry shakes his head, "You won't die. I won't let you."
"You don't control fate, Harry."
"What happened to being more optimistic? I can change anything if I work hard enough at it."
Niall sighs, shaking his head, then starts laughing, "I said less morbid, not unrealistic."
"Nothing unrealistic about it. I will not let you die, Niall. If you go, I go too."
Niall laughs harder at that, "So what, if one of your comrades comes in here and chokes me to death, would you choke yourself to death too?"
"Yes." Harry answers with a completely serious facial expression.
"All right, I've had enough Harry for one day. Get out of here." Niall pushes Harry off his shoulder, pointing at the door. Harry laughs and stands up, grabbing the cup and blowing out all but one of the lamps.
"See you tomorrow, Niall."
Niall waves, "Bye, Harry. See you tomorrow."