Take Me Home

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Harry couldn't sleep the following night.

He did what he always did after hours spent tossing and turning, getting out of bed at around two in the morning and going downstairs to get a glass of water.

Tonight was different though, because when he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could hear someone in the kitchen. He paused momentarily, trying to convince himself that he was being stupid for feeling nervous because it would probably just be their Dad or Papa, nothing to worry about.

Of course, he worried anyway as he crept quietly towards the kitchen. He was surprised (and extremely relieved) to see a small, blond figure in the moonlit kitchen, filling up a glass of water from the tap at the sink.

Apparently, Harry had been too quiet on his feet because as soon as Niall turned around, he jumped harshly and dropped the glass on the floor. It smashed into a thousand tiny pieces and both of them held their breath at the loud sound.

Niall seemed to panic, crouching down and trying to gather the glass up in his hands, and Harry panicked to then.

"Nialler!" he hissed, jumping into action and leaning over the glass in between them, taking his little brother by the shoulders and stopping him from hurting himself. He couldn't see any blood on the seven year old's palms and he let out a sigh of relief. He did notice how wide the blond's eyes were, and how blown his pupils seemed to be. He looked terrified. "Just stay there, okay? I'll clean it up," he said, softly.

Niall just watched as Harry grabbed the broom from the cupboard under the stairs and swept the glass into a pile, before brushing it into a dustpan, emptying it into the bin. He offered his brother a smile, but Niall didn't return it. His eyes were brimmed with tears and he looked ready to sob his heart out, which Harry thought was a big reaction to such a little thing.

"I-I'm sorry," Niall stammered out, tears threatening to fall.

Harry shook his head quickly, kneeling down opposite his smallest brother. "Hey. Hey, no, it's no big deal. We don't even need to tell Daddy and Papa, okay? It can be a secret," he said, attempting reassurance. It was unlikely their parents would even be mad if they did know - there were bigger things to get mad about than a smashed glass.

Niall let out a wobbly breath and used one of his too-long sleeves to wipe his damp eyes, giving a small nod. "You-you just scared me," he said, voice shaky and Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry, Nialler," he called him by his nickname, which made the little kid untense slightly. "If it's any consolation, you scared me too," he said, attempting half a smile.

Niall managed a small smile back, hiccuping. "S-sorry," he said, voice soft.

Harry reached up a hand to ruffle his little brother's hair. "It's all good, we'll call it even," he said, then looked at the time on the lit-up clock in the dark kitchen. It read 2.38A.M. "What're you even doing up?"

Niall hesitated, then shrugged. "I just wanted a glass of water," he mumbled.

Harry frowned. "I mean, why aren't you asleep?" he asked. Apparently that was the wrong question to ask, because Niall's bottom lip wobbled and suddenly, he was crying his heart out.

Harry stayed where he was for a moment, not sure how to react or whether he should get his Dads or not. Then he decided against it, settling for taking his brother's hand gently and leading him into the living room, turning on one of the lamps on the way and sitting on the couch with Niall settled against his side, still crying softly.

Harry waited for him to say something, but he didn't. So he figured it out for himself and asked, "are you still having nightmares?"

Niall was trying desperately to dry his face with his sleeves but the tears wouldn't seem to stop falling. He nodded, and Harry noticed he was breathing heavily - too heavily. He knew the seven year old suffered from panic attacks and he was okay at handling them, but he was almost wishing his Dad or Papa were there because he was afraid of making things worse.