Falling In Manchester

Chapter Five - Harry

Harry had been to a few parties before, but it was not more than what could have counted on one hand. Most of the time it was Niall who had dragged him along, and Harry had never bothered to truly dress up. This time was different. He rummaged through his boxes for what felt like hours for something to wear—he really needed to begin unpacking his room. He also really needed a dresser. And a job. Not in that order.

He frustrated ran his fingers through his hair, groaning. "Niall!" he yelled. "I'm in a crisis!"

Niall showed up at his door, toothbrush in his mouth. Foam was close to dribbling out his mouth. "Wot?" His words were slightly slurred, but Harry caught the meaning.

"Clothes," sighed Harry. "I don't know what to wear."

Niall removed his toothbrush. "How is that possible? You spent so many years in the closet. You have got to have learned something."

Harry sent him a cold stare. "Ha-ha."

"I know I am funny, no need to make a big deal out of it," Niall said, stepping further into the room. "What have you got?"

"Of what?"

"Dickpics."

"Quite a few—"

"No you idiot, I meant options for clothes."

"Oh, right." Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Gross mother fucker."

"I don't, by the way."

"I really don't wanna know," Niall said, holding his arms up in defence. "Now, show me."

Harry let out a breath, walking over to his bed. On it, he had thrown all the different clothes he could wear. There was a basic white T-shirt, a band T-shirt, a floral patterned button-up, a pink button-up with white dots, and lastly, a yellow T-shirt with a duck. He must have put that there by accident because no way in hell were he wearing that. There also were jeans, a pair of black ones, a pair of blue, and some that were so ripped his mother would demand he threw them out.

Niall hummed, looking over the different pieces of fabric. "I would say... pink button-up, black jeans, white tee underneath."

"Niall, you truly are the best friend in the world."

Niall patted his shoulder. "Trust me, I know." Before leaving the room, he added. "Nail polish?"

Harry nibbled his bottom lip. "Eh, probably not."

"I'm sure Louis would find it pretty," Niall said, wriggling his eyebrows.

Harry groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "God shut up."

"Never. Remember you love me!" With those words, he left the room, leaving Harry to start dressing. They were to meet up at Louis' place in an hour, and from there they would take a cab to this Stan guy's place.

Harry stripped out of his clothes, pulling on the new outfit. His hair was freshly washed, still damp.

Once dressed, he sat on his bed, pulling out his phone. No new notifications. He pocketed it again, letting out a breath. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, a nervous flutter moving around in his stomach.

"Curly!" Niall called from the kitchen. "I need help with my hair!"

Harry stood up, yelling, "Coming!"

* * *

It was Louis who opened the door for them, and the breath almost got punched out of Harry's lungs by an invisible force, because Louis was beautiful. His hair was styled up in a quiff, revealing his forehead. He had light stubble covering his cheeks. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt, black jeans that hugged his thighs—Good God—and old Toms. It was a simple outfit, yet it made Harry drool inwardly.