Fake (N.S)

50.

Harry's POV

The drive to my house was almost completely silent. I was still filled with immense sympathy towards Niall and rage towards his father, so much so that I couldn't even think of what I could say to fill the silence.

Niall seemed to be holding back tears and I knew that everything that was happening had really taken a toll on him. He clearly wasn't handling all the stress as well as everyone thought he was. 

I felt guilty about it, considering it was kind of my job to notice when Niall wasn't feeling good. Of course, I couldn't exactly read minds, so it was also partially Niall's fault for not confiding in me but I couldn't blame him for this. 

He had been through a lot because of his parents and it seemed as if he felt as though his feelings weren't valid enough to discuss. I guess it was now my job to let him know just how important his feelings were to me. 

Every time I stopped at a red light, I took the time to glance over to Niall. He was silently playing with his fingers, seemingly avoiding everything around him, including myself, in favour of looking out the window. 

I wanted him to say something, even though I knew that he would say something he didn't fully mean. Niall was by no means hard to read, nor did he always try his hardest to hide his feelings from people but at times like this I wished he could openly tell me how he was feeling. 

I never thought I could be this angry at someone. No one should ever speak about their child in that way, no matter what their beliefs were. Niall's father was horrible and he was lucky that Niall bothered to stop me from confronting him, as I had a lot more things I wanted to say to him. 

~

It was when Niall and I had entered my room and lay down on my bed that one of us took the initiative to speak.

"He's getting worse," he let out, his voice was incredibly quiet but seemed to be almost magnified in comparison to the suffocating silence that was previously surrounding us. 

I hummed softly, looking up to meet his eyes and at least try to convey how I was feeling. I needed him to know that I was there for him, that I wanted to be there for him. 

"I've learnt to ignore what he was saying but lately...I dunno, it just really hurts," he sighed.

"You should have told me. Baby, you know that you don't have to hide these things from me. God, now I'm worried about everything you've possibly been suffering through by yourself," I let out.

"I know, I just didn't want to worry you. You don't have to worry about me, you know?"

"Of course I know that. But I want to," I told him firmly, desperately wanting him to see how much I cared about him. 

"Well...I just didn't think it was as bad as it is and just suddenly all came to the surface and I freaked out."

"Okay. Now you're going to talk to me about everything so you don't have to feel like you need to hold everything in," I told him, leaving no room for an argument.

He sat up, looking down at me with an unreadable expression.

"I'm being serious," I said, sitting up. "Tell me everything. I'm going to sit here and listen to whatever you need to talk about."

"Uh-- okay then. Lately, he's been a lot harsher towards me than he used to be. Before it was just a few snide comments whenever I entered a room but now it's like he goes out of his way to make me feel like shit."

The glossy, close to tears look that had been on his face was still present but he refused to actually let himself cry.

"I think it's cause of my mum. The fact that now she's suddenly on my side has fucked him up. The extra stress of having to fight with her as well as me, I don't know. Mum wants to split up with him," he murmured, biting his lip.