Harry's parents always know when something is going on with him, almost instinctively. He's barely taken two steps into the kitchen one morning a few days later before Papa is looking at him with a frown.
"What's wrong?" He asks immediately, and Harry doesn't see the point in lying.
He shrugs, twisting his hands together in front of him anxiously, throat and chest feeling all tight in the way that it often does when his anxiety gets bad. "Me and Ni have that presentation in business today. I don't want to stand up in front of everyone," he says quietly, stopping behind one of the chairs at the table, picking nervously at a small dip in the wood.
Dad and Papa exchange glances at that, a thud upstairs signalling that Liam is running late. Harry barely hears it over the sound of his blood rushing inside his ears — he knows it's such a stupid and small thing to be so worried about, but it happens almost every time he has to present for one of his classes and he almost always feels better once he's spoken to his parents about it.
"The one about digital marketing, right? I thought you were all set for that one?" Dad says, and Harry swallows, nausea flipping in his stomach, nails digging into that dip in the wooden chair.
"Yeah," he glances down and shrugs. "We worked on the powerpoint together and stuff, but we haven't practised or anything — because Ni was sick last week, remember? And that's okay, it's not his fault, but normally we go over what we're gonna say and stuff and now we haven't and we won't have time to, 'cause it's first period, so that means I'm gonna mess up — and — and then everyone's gonna laugh and then I'll go red 'cause that's what always happens and people laugh even more then and I hate it —"
Hands are on his shoulders then, sliding gently down his arms until their fingers can wrap around his wrist and pry his grip away from the back of the chair. Papa's thumbs rub gently over his knuckles, grounding him, his hazel eyes soft as he peers into Harry's.
"Breathe, Curly," he soothes, and Harry hasn't even realised how out of oxygen he feels until then, inhales coming short and shallow. He sucks in a longer breath and holds it for a moment, only releasing it when Papa nods in encouragement. "There we go. And again," he guides him.
Harry sniffles but obeys nonetheless, relishing in the comfort when the man lets go of one of his hands to brush his hair away from his face gently. With his breathing under control, he looks up at the man with damp eyes. Papa smiles at him, features filled with love.
"Lets think about this rationally, huh?" He says, and Harry swallows, chest still heavy and tight, hands sweating, stomach twisting.
He knows he'll be fine, deep down, that everything will be okay and then afterwards, he'll wonder why he was ever so anxious in the first place — but that doesn't just magically stop the panic that's flowing through him in the current moment.
"Kiddo, it'll be fine. You're the smartest kid I know, and you and Niall together? You boys are top of your class, by a mile and a half. You put too much pressure on yourself," he says gently.
Harry shakes his head, gulping in another mouthful of air. "It's not that, Papa," he whispers, voice tight. "It's — I don't like being in front of everyone. People are mean sometimes, they'll laugh if I stutter or — or what if I trip on my way to the front?"
Papa gives his shoulder a squeeze. "School sucks, buddy, but this is one presentation. Not even, what, ten minutes? And then it's done." Harry tries to feel comforted by the words but finds it difficult and Papa seems to understand that, thankfully. "How about this — you and me leave early, go grab Ni, pick up breakfast on the way to school and that gives the two of you a bit of extra time to go over things?"
Harry nods instantly at that, glancing across the table at his Dad for confirmation, who nods.
"Course. I can drop Liam off before work this once," he says, and Harry lets out a relieved breath, anxiety still clutching at his chest but not to the point where he's struggling to breathe.
Less than fifteen minutes later, and Papa is pulling up on the curb outside of Niall's house, Harry refraining from rolling his eyes when he has to wait for the click of the child lock being turned off before he can open the door to clamber out of the back, heading up the path and stepping around the torn parasol that has been blown into the front garden and left there.
He pauses on the front doorstep, can just about make out the deep rumble of somebody yelling on the other side of the house, lifting his hand to knock after a few seconds of being unable to make out the words. He decides that maybe it's just something on the TV, because it's way too early for anybody to be arguing, he's sure. Of course, he and Liam bicker in the mornings but there's never any real shouting that goes on, regardless of what time of day it is.
He doesn't have to wait long before the door is yanked open almost frantically, and then he's looking at Niall, already dress in his uniform with flushed red cheeks and wide eyes, looking a mixture between exhausted and wired. Then his expression morphs into one of confusion as his gaze lands on Harry, flickering to Papa's car behind and then back.
"Haz? What — what're you doing here?" He asks, voice shaking slightly.
Harry frowns, peering behind his best friend down the hallway that he's somehow never stepped foot into. They've been friends for practically their whole lives, grown up by each other's sides, and yet he's never been into Niall's house. It hasn't ever really mattered much, Ni has always been able to stay at his. He takes in the peeling wallpaper and the scratched up floor, the mess of newspapers and letters that look like they might be important along with empty containers, plastic bottles, the usual recycling bin items, strewn into a pile in the far corner and tries not to grimace. It makes him kind of glad that they always hang out at his house, as much as he doesn't want to judge.
"Are you okay?" He asks, turning his attention back to the shorter twelve year old, who looks suspiciously watery-eyed.
Niall blinks then nods quickly, ducking his head and sniffing, glancing back up with a strained smile. "I'm — I'm fine. Just — I don't remember arranging to..."
Harry shakes his head then. "Oh, I was kinda freaking out about the presentation today so my Papa said he'd take us both out to breakfast and drop us off early so we can go over it a bit. If that's good with you?" He adds, heart beginning to pound a little in his chest again at the reminder of his anxiety.
Thankfully, Niall agrees to it quickly. "Yeah, okay. Let me just grab my school bag," he blurts out, disappearing down the hall again before Harry can say anything else, all but running back and then quietly closing the door behind him.
Harry eyes him with furrowed brows. "Shouldn't you tell your Mum or Paul that you're leaving early?" He questions, knowing that his parents would worry.
It surprises him when Niall scowls at the question. "No," he mutters, then lets out a breath when he looks up at Harry, wincing a little. "Sorry, m'just...tired. Again."
He wants to question it further, push a little because Niall seems to be tired a lot lately and they're best friends so of course he cares enough to see that there's more to it than that, but they're at the car already and he knows that Ni won't talk about it in front of Papa.
They clamber into the back, Papa turning with a smile to greet Niall. "Morning, kiddo. Your folks all good with us stealing you so early?" He asks.
Niall smiles, bright and believable, giving a nod. "Oh, they're fine with it," he says, making Harry frown at the lie. But the other boy continues fast. "Um, I don't have any money for breakfast though. I can just wait 'til lunch —"
Papa looks appalled, shaking his head immediately at the idea. "Oh, don't be silly. We'll be going through the drive-through, so just make sure you know what you want when we get there, alright?" He says, and Niall smiles more bashfully this time, nodding.
"Thank you," he says softly, clicking his seatbelt in place, prompting Harry to close the door behind them and then do the same as his father starts the car engine up and assures Niall that there's no need to thank him.
Niall turns to him, drawings one knee up on the seat slightly as he twists his body around. Harry isn't sure if it's the shadowed lighting in the car that makes the bags beneath his best friends eyes so prominent, but he decides against commenting on it. Instead, Niall looks at him with a guilty expression.
"Sorry we didn't go over the presentation last week. I know you get anxious about stuff like this," he murmurs, sounding as sincere as he looks.
Harry is quick to shake his head. "No, it's not your fault. You can't help being sick," he says, not missing the look that crosses over the other boys face before he continues. "I didn't even realise how worried I was 'til this morning anyway, otherwise I would've said yesterday and we could've just practised it then," he reassures with a small shrug, trying to rub the sweat from his palms onto his trousers to no avail.
"It's not your fault either. But — but it will be fine though, you know it always is. And other people always mess up so even if it all goes wrong, it's not a big deal. And if anyone laughs, I can beat 'em up," he offers with a grin, making Harry laugh because Niall is probably the last person ever to get into a fight with anyone. Even he would be more likely to beat someone up than Niall would be.
They spend an hour before class going over each slide in the presentation after Papa buys them breakfast and drops them off, wishing them both luck, and as always, the entire anxiety attack of a morning is all for nothing because the class goes by smoothly. Nobody laughs when he stutters over one of the words, and he manages to make it through the entire presentation without tripping over or making a fool of himself, even though his cheeks turn pink without a reason to anyway.
It's like a whole new level of relief when it's over, only the worry for standing in front of his whole class is soon replaced by another type of worry for his best friend soon afterwards.
It's only just break time when Niall checks out for the umpteenth time of the day; Harry stopped counting after the third. He's been talking about unimportant stuff for maybe five minutes when a quick glance across the table tucked away in the corner of the canteen stirs the realisation that Niall isn't listening.
Harry frowns at first, though he doesn't take offence, watching for a few moments as the other boy chews at the inside of one of his cheeks so his lips twists slightly to one side, his brows furrowed, fingernail absently tracing down a line on the wood of the table between them.
"Ni?" He says quietly, though it doesn't do much to grab his attention since the cafeteria is always so loud, over eight hundred kids packed in at once since it had begun to rain maybe an hour or so ago so nobody is outside for once.
He tries again, reaching a hand across the table to knock his fingers against the other twelve year old's wrist that pokes out from the sleeve of his school blazer, gaze catching onto a dark shadow there that looks a lot like a bruise.
Niall jumps and looks up at him, eyes wide for a moment before his expression settles. Harry keeps his hand where it is, frowning at the marks on his best friend's wrist.
"What happened?" He questions, frowning harder when Niall looks confused until he follows his gaze down to his arm, then he pulls back quickly, tugging his sleeve down.
"Nothing," he rushes, tone something akin to defensive. It does nothing to soothe the anxiety beginning to weigh down Harry's stomach again — he isn't sure why, exactly, there isn't always a reason for his anxiety, but he has a feeling that it's there rightfully in the current moment. Niall lets out a breath and shrugs instead after a beat. "I knocked it. Last night. On — on the doorframe. You know how you stub your toe sometimes on something that's been there forever? It was like that," he explains, a loose grin taking over his face instead as he releases a huff of a laugh.
Harry eyes him for a moment before he smiles and shakes his head, trying to push away the discomfort in his gut. "Yeah," he says, then lets out a breath and lets his expression morph into a more serious one again. "Are you okay? You — you've seemed weird again today. Like you're not here, not really."
Niall instantly looks guilty, eyes squinting and shoulders slumping as his blue eyes flicker up to meet Harry's for the first time in a while. "Sorry," is all he says.
"That's not what I meant. I just wanna know if you're okay, because if you're not, you know you can tell me anything," he says lightly, making the other boys smile a less forced smile.
He nods. "I know. But I'm really okay, just still a little out of it from being sick last week, I guess. Sorry, I'm not trying to ignore you, I promise I don't mean to be a bad friend —"
Harry interrupts quickly at that, sending a quick glare over his shoulder as a guy from one of the older years knocks into their table without so much as a mumbled apology. "You're not a bad friend, idiot," he stares firmly, smiling so that Niall knows he means the word lightly. "If you're feeling better by the weekend, wanna stay over at mine? If you're there, I can probably convince Dad and Papa to give me that game they bought for my birthday a week early," he adds with a grin, hoping to clear some of the dreary atmosphere that's been hanging over them all day.
Niall manages a grin at that, flinching a little when the bell rings to signal the end of break and quickly recovering, nodding as they stand.
"Yeah. That'd be cool," he says in a more cheerful tone that Harry realises he hasn't heard in a while. Then Niall frowns and turns to him quickly. "But only if you actually want me to, and Zayn and Louis are okay with it, 'cause I don't wanna —"
"Ni," Harry groans, shoving his friend playfully as they walk side by side to their next class. "Shut up, man. You could literally move in tomorrow and you know my Dad and Papa won't mind. You're like, their honorary third child," he says, making Niall smile and let out a breath.
"Think there's probably laws or something that make it so I can't just move in tomorrow —"
Harry rolls his eyes playfully. "Shut up," he huffs, both of them weaving their way in and out of other students with familiar ease. He stops and turns to him when they reach their lockers, making sure to catch his eyes. "You're sure you're okay, though?"
Niall stares back for a moment before he t he is to his locker instead, nodding. "Yeah, Haz. I'm fine."
Somehow, Harry is beginning to doubt the truth behind those words.
AN:
sooo, not proud of how short this one came out but it ees what it ees. i just really wanted to update at least one of my books on the ten year anniversaryyyy ;)
also i can't comprehend that it's been ten years? that's over half of my life ago, i remember being in the playground in primary school and all the girls in the older years having magazines with one direction in and everyone playing x-factor our on the field with their friends lmaooo what a time.
anywayyy, lemme know what you thought!
the next chapter will be longer i hope, but regardless of length, it'll have more of niall (and unfortunately, paul) as well as some more family dynamics with harry and the others, hopefully will be up by next week!
thanks for bearing with me through all this writers block, it's a pain but you guys have been so patient so thank you <3