Before You Start A War

Chapter Thirteen

Over the next few days, things are slightly awkward between the two. Harry comes in to feed Niall at the same time and asks his if he needs to dress any more wounds, but Niall always tells him that he's already starting to feel better and everything is healing fine.

Harry's been trying to make sense of what happened in the cellar that one day. He's never looked at someone so intently like that, especially another man.

Harry's heard stories about homosexuals, and remembers being terrified of them. He always thought they were pedophilic and disgusting, especially after hearing about a young boy getting raped and killed outside a molly-house disguised as a coffeehouse, by a group of three or four older men, most of which were in their thirties and forties. At least, that's what the newspaper said. From then on, he's been terrified of ever walking into the wrong place.

However, now that he thinks about it, he's never actually met or tried talking to anyone known for being homosexual, not that there were that many out in public. They could just be normal people.

When he goes back to see Niall that day, they sit in silence for a good few minutes after Niall finishes eating, until Niall finally breaks the tension with, "Why are you acting so strange suddenly?"

Harry recoils, "What? I'm not acting strange."

"Yes, you are, and you have ever since you cleaned me up. Was it the blood?" Niall inquires.

"No." Harry responds, taking Niall's empty cup and getting ready to stand so he can leave.

"Then what was it?"

"Nothing, Niall. Nothing happened. I'm not acting strange. I'm acting the same as I always do."

"Bullshit," Niall calls, his face scrunching up. "was it all the touching? Did that make you uncomfortable? 'Cause I could've easily cleaned my wounds myself if it bothered you that much."

"No, Niall. The touching didn't make me uncomfortable. I wanted to help you." Harry regurgitates.

"Well, something obviously happened. Was it something that happened outside of here? Are people talking?"

"People are always talking, Niall. They all think I should just come in here and kill you straight out for what you did to us."

"Then why don't you? I'm not of any use to you, or to anybody. I can't make a map, and the second they find that out, I'm a dead man. I'd rather go now and be killed by you than live in agony and die at the hands of them."

"I'm not gonna kill you, and I will kill anyone else that even tries!" Harry exclaims. He's getting frustrated now, but mostly at himself, because he doesn't know how to tell Niall that getting distracted by his lips is what made him put back up the layer of defense around his brain that was knocked down previously by Niall's kindness. Only now, it's not up to protect him from getting too emotional when his comrades die. It's up to protect his feelings from getting hurt if Niall were to reject him or, even worse, resent him.

"Why not?" Niall yells back.

"Because I care about you!" Harry cries, gathering his belongings before bolting out of the bunker. He locks the door behind him before racing back to his tent, not even thinking about returning the cup right now.

The next day, Harry dreads returning to Niall. He apologized to the kitchen workers for not returning the cup after lunch, but they fill it up with water for him anyway.

When he opens the door, he can hear Niall sit up on the inside. He continues on his same route to light the lamps, and hands Niall the hardtack and cup of water. Niall takes them silently.