NIAM STORIES (BXB ONE SHOTS)

Punch-Drunk Supercut

"Hey..."

"Yeah?"

"I wanna tell you something..."

"Um...okay?"

"I-I love you—"

Every night, beneath the bleeding lights, the young lived and died; scattered on the floor like murder and throwing up over the balcony like morning sickness. Spent and delirious — going on about taking off their pants and getting laid, or how their mommy's gonna kill them. Burning grass hazed the room and white powder dusted the tables. A girl was on the kitchen countertop, crying out as she got eaten down under; by the couch a guy was giving his best friend's pole a good sucking.

Niall Horan staggered up the stairs as he fled the desolation behind him. Cheeks burning red and eyes watery, a recent conversation continued to ring in his ears. It bothered him too much that he couldn't figure out whether he needed the bathroom to vomit the alcohol in his veins or crash onto a bed and wake up with a hangover in the morning. As he leaned against the wall, something crashed beside him — maybe a picture frame — but he continued to drag himself towards the closest door.

At last, he stumbled into a dimly lit room that looked like a convention of stuffed animals that glared at him on every corner — Mr. Unicorn was pale under the lights, a pink bunny was sulking by the window, while two brown bears were probably planning on cannibalizing him. Niall slumped onto the bed, breathing in a sweet scent that could easily turn him on — but it didn't. The conversation was filling his mind with dread.

His lips... his eyes... his voice... his arms... his... his—

Niall started to feel himself get hard.

"Fucking hell..." he groaned.

No. This wasn't happening. Although in retrospect, didn't he want this to happen? How long had he been fantasizing him to say those words? In its realization, however, the words sounded different. It felt wrong — even worse than when Niall kept his feelings to himself. Why did it feel wrong? They felt the same way about each other, what's there to be afraid of?

Maybe because Niall had this nagging feeling in his stomach that after the morning breaks and everything had came down from the highs, all that had been said between the shots and smoked joints will have faded. He was afraid it was all an intoxicated ruse that was meant to break like the champagne glasses they used to toast the bourbon and cola. His smiles and giggles as they cozied up on the couch were just illusions of a drunken, swollen feeling that went out of proportion.

How could he had let that happen? They were staring at each other, muddy irises finding the ocean in Niall's iced blues. Niall grabbed his arm — next thing he knew, they were kissing madly, holding on while they sucked each other's breaths away. After that, Niall stood up and ran away; the taste of breath mints and Diet Coke lingered in Niall's mouth.

"Liam..." Niall breathed out, staring at the bedroom ceiling as if it would answer back. "You're a piece of work, aren't you? God, why did I have to fall for you, Payne?!"

Niall had known Liam since they were four. But in those days, they've only met a few times a year: horrible family Christmas dinners where they would sneak out to the backyard and gaze at the stars; a neighborhood wedding or funeral where Niall was so keen on pulling off that thick bowtie noosing round his neck; unrepeated sleepovers when they were eight; and several occasions during Halloween when Liam would always dress up as the Caped Crusader. It wasn't until high school that they've managed to fit themselves into each other's lives. Way past their sophomore year, they started to hang out, having late night calls that Niall found so addicting. He loved the deep drone of Liam's voice so he kept coming up with questions until one of them falls asleep. The meadows outside of town was their spot on Sundays, where Niall could have Liam all for himself especially when he started to fall in love with him.