***

I don’t know what’s going on. Someone’s cursing in the main room while it sounds like another is billowing through like a tornado. Then there’s a knock on my door and I barely get my eyes open before the sound of a loud Irish voice booms through the wood.

“Delly! Get ya arse out here, al’ righ'?”

“Shut up, Niall! She’s sleeping!”

“Oi! Bugger off, Harry! I wanna see her ‘for I leave.”

More sounds, these resembling bodies slamming into each other and muffled spouts from one that I think might be Niall.

Despite being half asleep, I smile and slide out of bed. I find a t-shirt to throw over the bra and underwear I’d slept in, grabbing some lose shorts before I try to get the door open. When I do, I catch Harry trying to slap his hand over Niall’s mouth and Niall attempting to wriggle out of his much taller friends grasp. But when they catch site of me, Harry stops and Niall grins.

“I told him to be quiet,” Harry sighs, fixing his t-shirt and glaring a little over at Niall.

“She wanted ta see me, didn’t ya, darlin’?” asks Niall as he comes forward and envelopes me in a hug.

“M’ did,” I mumble.

Harry and Niall both chuckle, the blonde Irishman leading me over to the couch where I notice his few black bags are packed and waiting. Then I realize that my new friend was going home today. This makes me frown as a sad, sort of cold feeling washes through my body, and I lean my head against Niall’s shoulder. He just pats my knee and starts to finger the bracelet I wore all the time now.

“We’re best friends now, Delly,” he says. “Know that?”

I just nod. Harry’s around somewhere, I know, but I figure he’s sensed that Niall and I might need a minute alone and mentally thank him for being so polite. At this thought, at the realization that we’re alone and that my new friend is leaving me, I do something that I’d only done with Harry a few select times: I wrap myself completely around Niall. He chuckles as I do this, but he does the same, keeping me upright by joining his hands together behind my back.

"Going to miss you,” I quietly say into his shoulder.

He nods. “Me, too. But you can come back with Harry for a while, can’t ya? I’d love to show you ‘round Ireland and you can meet the rest of the lads!”

“I dunno, Niall.”

“Oh, come on! I know Harry’s dying to ask ya, he just hasn’t got the balls to do it yet.”

This makes me laugh, even though I think I’ve started to cry. But Niall starts to sort of rub my back and I sink into him more as silence stretches over us and I purposefully forget to answer his question. I would miss Niall a lot and I knew I’d jump at the chance to see him again and keep Harry close to me, but giving him an answer meant that I knew where Harry and I were going to go, and I didn’t know that yet. I don’t think Harry knew, either; sure, we both knew where we wanted this to go, but we had no idea of how to navigate it towards that dream. Giving an answer to Niall’s question would be putting something made out of paper into concrete, and I wasn’t willing to risk the heartache of having to admit to him later that Harry and I hadn’t been able to cement that fragile piece right.

“I’m really going to miss you,” I say again, because I’ve nothing else to whisper to my friend.

“Miss you too, Delly,” Niall replies, though his voice is weak and strained and I think he might be crying now too.

But then he clears his throat, pulls back some, and hastily wipes at his eyes. He smiles, pushing pieces of my hair away from my face so he can show me his grin and kiss my forehead.

“Alright, then?” asks Harry as he comes in from his bedroom.

He smiles gently at me and I return it, though it makes the water that had welled up in my eyes fall. At this, his small grin falters and he starts for me, but pauses at the end of the sofa. I do as Niall did and quickly raise my hands so I can clear my eyes.

“Come on, then,” Niall laughs, sniffling. “Better let me go now, Delly, or I’ll never make me flight.”

I nod and clamber off him, onto the cushion next to the one we’d sunk, and shove my hands in between my knees. I watch as he, hands pulling through blonde hair and more tears falling, goes for his bags, pats himself down, and sends me little looks. It makes me want to latch onto him so he won’t leave, but I know that’s irrational of me. Hell, my entire reaction to the fact that he was leaving had been irrational, I gather now, but grabbing onto his leg would probably be way too much. So I lean back into the couch and, turning when I feel his breath on my shoulder, look over at Harry, who is resting on my right.

“S’alright,” he chuckles, gently pushing pieces of my hair out of my face.

“I know,” I swallow thickly, even though I don’t really feel like it’s alright.

Harry forms one of his big hands on my cheek, his pretty eyes glistening as they roam over my face. I want to lean into him because I need to be comforted. I need another one of Niall’s hugs, but he’s already cracking from our exchange earlier, so I lean into Harry’s touch and let more tears fall. This makes his smile drop off his pretty face.

Keeping his hand on my cheek, he stands, and, with his other hand, motions that I stand up. I do as he wanted and am surprised when he pulls his touch away, instead intertwining our hands together and helping me off the side of the couch. Then he pulls me into his chest, where I rest and allow him to wind my arms around his waist.

“I’ll take care of you like he did,” he says quietly, holding me like I’m holding him. “You’ll be alright, love.”

Till now, I hadn’t even realized that Niall had taken care of me. But as I think back on it, I guess he had, just in subtle ways that everyone was used to. He’d made me laugh, feel happy so effortlessly, and brought so much humorous, joyful light into my life that now reverting back to being how I was before, so cold and guarded and distant, seems impossible. I squeeze Harry at this realization, smiling despite being sad, and nuzzle my face into his chest.

“I’ll take care of you, too,” I mumble.

Then he squeezes me and I know he realizes what I’m talking about. I may be a wreck and too fragile, but Harry was the same, only in different ways. He needed someone to take care of him too, this I knew, and I liked the idea of having someone need that just as much as I did.

“Forget me underwear.”

Harry eases his hold on me as I turn to look at his blonde friend, laughs rocketing out of both of us as Niall traipses in from Harry’s bedroom with his arms full of underwear. But instead of being embarrassed, Niall only grins and laughs with us, shoving all of his boxers and briefs into one of his bags. Then he’s standing and saying that I need to hug him once before he goes.

Our hug this time isn’t as long and I’m able to pull away without crying too much. But once Harry’s done hugging his friend, too, he comes over and pulls me into his side, using one of his long fingers to wipe away a few tears that were sliding down to the corner of my mouth.

“Al’righ, now,” says Niall, his tone light and happy. “You’d better take care of her, Harry, or else we might have a little chat, yea?”

I laugh and Harry chuckles and Niall nods. Then he kisses my forehead and grabs his bags, disappearing out into the hallway while calling several more goodbyes over his shoulder. I wave for as long as I can while still glued to Harry’s side, and the curly headed boy yells something out that his British accent makes too difficult to understand, but it causes Niall to crow with laughter.



A breeze blows through, it billowing my hair behind my shoulders as I close my eyes and inhale the salty wind that is suddenly all around. My toes are digging in the sand, uprooting the nearly perfect slabs of dark tan and making small balls flake up. As I walk farther down into the surf, my ankles and thighs are dampened by the sprays of water that eat up the shore, and I smile.

This place is heaven, almost as perfect as the feeling Harry’s skin against mine brings, and I think that I’d like to just live here for ages. Maybe make a hut or something in a corner of the beach where no one goes and wake up every morning to the sound of the waves and the gulls. That would be nice, I deduce as I scale back up on the shore.

I glance around for Harry, shielding my eyes with my hand and letting my gaze slink over the nearly deserted place. I spot him over near a dune and smile wider. He’s got something in his hands—his cell phone, the reason he’d had to stray off so far in the first place, but pockets it in favor for heading for me.

“It was just Louis again,” he says once he reaches me. “But it’s fine. He just had something else to tell me.”

“Something bad?”

He shakes his head at my question and smiles, slinking an arm around my waist gently. I fall into his side effortlessly.

“Good news, this time.”

“That’s good.”

A hum is my response, followed by a hand that twists in the free pieces that my loose bun has let fall and fingertips that gently skim over one side of my head. I try not to melt too much at his touch and the way he’s working his fingers against my scalp, but he’s talented and people playing with my hair is one of my weaknesses. He realizes this, too, I think, because he starts to hunt around for the elastic I’ve used to keep my hair up with, sliding the thing around his wrist while all my tresses fall free.

He pulls us down into the sand and maneuvers me so I sit in between his legs and can rest against his chest. Then he’s back at work on my hair, no obvious style in mind as he just works his long fingers through the knots and lengthy strands. I go limp in his arms and let him do whatever he wants.

“Do you feel better, love?”

I just croak out a yes because I can’t do anything else.

The beach had been Harry’s idea hours after Niall had left and I’d gloomily agreed. Obviously it was so he could attempt to make me feel better and I’d liked the thought of the water and the sunshine. We’d been here for hours now, hiding out from the crowd that had started dwindling about an hour ago on an almost vacant part of the beach that only us and a few elderly people had occupied. Harry had jumped between keeping his arm around my waist, playing with my hair, and asking questions that he’d asked before and telling me corny jokes that were too horrible to not laugh at it.

Of course I’d known what he was trying do and I’d willing given in to his attempts at making me feel better. So now, as I feel his hands steal a little in my hair, I don’t feel as sad as I had when our Irish friend had walked through the door; in fact, remembering the little bit of time we’d spent together makes me want to laugh instead of cry.

“I like you, Harry,” I blurt.

I’d wanted to say something to him, something that would let him know how thankful I was for him and everything he’d brought into my life, but it had gotten jumbled up with how his touch made me feel and slipped out as a word that I knew he was already aware of.

He chuckles. “I like you too, Delaney.”

Then a thought hits me. One that makes my heart beat up into my ears and probably the color drain from my face. But I know I want to do it, that I’m prepared and I can’t hold back the want anymore. So I pull up and away from Harry’s chest and twist around, so we’re face to face. Harry stares at me in confusion, but I just lick my lips and move closer, nearly completely straddling him.

I wait a beat, till I think I’ve stared at his pretty face long enough and leaned in close enough to his lips for him to get the picture. And then he’s leaning in to and as his big hands raise up to cup my face, there are no hesitant thoughts or doubts that puncture holes in this moment. It’s all soft lips sucking on mine and the feel of Harry’s soft palms pressing into my cheeks as he holds my head.