Dancing With The Stars *Narry AU FanFic *Transgender!Niall

10 - Visit

"Nic, are you okay?" Harry asks, waving a hand in front of my face. It's now Saturday, only two days from the show night. Harry has all the steps down, but I'm making him run through the dance a few more times just to make sure. I'm going to test him tomorrow without refreshing him to make sure he doesn't forget.

Harry's living room floor is large and generally spaced out. The couch and coffee table have been pushed back as far as they could go so we could have as much space as possible.

"I'm fine," I answer, although my words are generally disconnected from the conversation and, frankly, I barely heard what it is he had asked me. "Let's run through it one more time.

"Nicolette," He says after I stay completely silent during our practice, practically pulling me towards the couch against the wall. "what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine." I say again, but I know I'm not.

Today seems like one of those days where everything seems to bother me. My mind is constantly flashing back to old memories of my mother and father claiming I'm a boy when I don't feel it most of the time.

That's the problem here, though. Most of the time. Some days, I feel as if I really am a boy. A real boy; a boy that God made me out to be, and maybe I should have listened to my parents. Maybe I really am a fool for considering myself anything but.

I was made to be a boy,  my parents had said. It's one of those days where I look up to the sky or the ceiling; asking God why he made me so confused. Why must I feel like a girl most days, but a boy some others? Why must my frilly dresses and long skirts feel strange to me on some days? The underwear I wear sometimes seems unfitting for my masculine body.

"Ni?" Harry's voice is quiet and watered down. His arms are around me as he holds me close, rocking us back and forth on the big couch, sometimes nosing around in my hair. He doesn't seem to mind our close proximity; instead, seeming to enjoy it much more than I would have expected it to.

My mind flashes back to Louis' words in the practice room. They remind me of how I thought we could have been watched through the cameras if they were to be on. I know Harry has control over the cameras, but I'm unsure if he had turned them off before holding me so close.

I don't say anything though. My mouth is unable to form words. Even when the words can be felt vibrating in my chest and up my vocal cords to my mouth, my tongue and teeth and lips refuse to move, refuse to let me remind him of being watched so intensely by such a large audience. Instead, a low hum is emitted from my chest, sending noise out through my unmoving face.

I don't think I've blinked in over five minutes, or however long Harry has had me laying on him. I blink just in case, and indeed, I feel the sting of my eyes from being opened too long and a few tears slip out from my tear-ducts.

I'm not sad; I just needed to blink away the dryness in the center of my eye. Either way, Harry holds me tighter and even kisses my hair - I can feel it lightly on the part I lazily made last night after my shower - when one of the drops of liquid roll off the side of my face, past my ear, and onto his own skin.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Whatever I did, I'm so, so sorry. Just - please - don't leave me in the dark this time. Please tell me what I did so I can make it better." He pleads, kissing my head repeatedly. My mind worries about the cameras for a millisecond. "Let me make it better."

My mouth and tongue and teeth finally decide to do what I tell them, but what I say isn't what I was hoping to. "I-I need to make a p-phone call."

He's silent for a moment, taking in my first words. I'm half expecting him to make me tell him what is bothering me, but the other half knows he won't do that. My more rational half is right when he whispers, "All right."