baby doll // narry

chapter forty three. ➸ unfamiliar.

❝ chapter forty three. ➸ unfamiliar. ❞

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Water from my disrupted bath glazed my bare body, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as Harry carried me in his arms. Warm droplets trickled down my arms and legs as I hugged myself in a futile attempt to cover myself. Harry laid me down on his bed, the moisture quickly spreading to the sheets.

The aftermath of our last time had been far from pleasant. The physical dynamics were mortifying. The pain outweighed the pleasure. I was certain that this was just going to be a replay of the whole thing.

And yet I wanted this. Amidst all of the negativity, the experience I shared with Harry had made me feel so close to him, and we had somehow developed this deep, profound connection that I couldn't put into words.

The past few months had been possibly the most traumatising period of my life, but I had just come to realise that at times when it was just Harry and I, when there were no external influences, I was the happiest I'd ever been. And somehow, being with him helped patch up the stagnant wound my father's death had inflicted on me. I had thought that it would never go away.

But at the same time, Harry had hurt me on countless occasions. He had been the cause for many of my sleepless nights, and yet, I yearned to be near him every minute of the day. I accepted that this was all, to a certain extent, twisted. I didn't understand it myself. I even considered the possibility that I was suffering from a mental disorder, like how Darren had assumed.

Harry stood at the foot of the bed and watched me, bright eyes focused as they trailed up and down my body. My anxiety was building up rapidly, and I had the sudden compulsion to spring back to the bathroom and lock myself in it.

Then my thoughts were drawn to the young boys and girls I had seen at Richard's place. Compared to them, I was considered fortunate. Their innocence had been ripped away from them in a much more disturbing way. I didn't dare to imagine how differently things would've played out for me if I had been sent to some other home instead of Harry's.

My heart pounded ferociously as I slowly say up on the bed, my arms crossed over my chest. I had never felt so... exposed. The crystal chandelier above us was the only source of light in the spacious room, other lamps had been turned off, and I was glad that it was only dimly lit.

"Niall, I... don't want you to freak out again," Harry spoke lowly, "If you don't want this, I don't want this,"

The person I had once pegged as a monster was standing before me with genuine concern and understanding. I trusted him, I did. Love worked so mysteriously. It had restored my faith in Harry in such a short amount of time. I peered up at him, and give him a single nod, "I... want this," My voice came out small. I was certain about this, but I was scared.

With my permission, Harry's fingers found their way to the buttons of his plaid shirt. I observed as he swiftly flicked them open one by one, my heartbeat quickening with every movement. When he had completed the task, the clothing was slid off and chucked to the side. My breath caught in my throat when his bare torso came into view. I found myself in awe of his hard, lean frame. I tried to tear my gaze from the tanned outline of his form, the prominent lines along his stomach, making it increasingly difficult. I tried to picture him without those ghastly tattoos that covered the width of his chest. I couldn't.