Before You Start A War

Chapter Thirty

As Louis and Liam separate off into different bedrooms, Niall and Harry take one of their own. The colonel raises a clever eyebrow and smiles lightly, but doesn't say anything as the door closes behind them.

Harry sets Niall on the bed before lighting the lamp by the table. After a soft glow begins flickering around the room, he starts peeling off his clothes one-by-one. He's never enjoyed sleeping in the same clothes multiple days in a row, but at least they were washed every other day. They feel grimy and stick to his skin, making him shiver.

Niall chuckles. "Sleeping naked tonight?"

Harry shakes his head, "I'll keep my garments on, but..."

"Sounds like a plan." Niall agrees, sitting up and starting to reach around to take his jacket off. His teeth clench immediately at the stretch, and Harry steps over to help him.

"You shouldn't move so much."

Niall scoffs. "If I moved any less, I'd be dead. I'm okay, Harry, I promise." He wiggles an arm out of the sleeve before being able to push the rest of the fabric off on his own. He then reaches down for his boots, and makes sure he doesn't let out any sounds of discomfort as he forces the rubber off one of his feet, still tied and tight.

"Here," Harry kneels in front of him and takes Niall's remaining booted foot into his knee. "let me." He unlaces them slowly and tilts Niall's ankle to pull it off easily. While he's still at Niall's feet, he asks, "Do you sleep with socks on?"

"Who sleeps with socks on?"

"Me."

"Heathen."

Harry laughs and pulls both socks off simultaneously. "Don't complain to me when your feet are cold in the morning."

Harry continues helping Niall with his clothes, even though Harry still has his pants on. Even though he said he was planning to strip down to his undergarments, he isn't sure how comfortable Niall would be sleeping next to an almost naked man, especially considering what he used to do.

Once Niall's shirt is off, Niall leans back to unbuckle his pants. Harry's eyes catch on the wound on his side. The stitches still seem to be intact and there is no blood outside so they haven't leaked, but a significant portion of his abdomen is colored purple and yellow and blue. Liam's been checking Niall every night, but in dim lights and without much tools to do anything if he had to. He hopes there's no more internal bleeding and the bruises are just from before.

"Harry." At the sound of his name, Harry looks up. Niall is staring at him with a sympathetic yet strong-willed look in his eyes. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? You're not in pain?"

Niall sighs, "I'm always in pain, Harry, but it doesn't matter. I'll be okay. I'll get better. And after this next battle, we'll finally be able to go back home."

"Do you really think this will be the last one?" Harry sits down next to Niall on the bed, taking his hand.

"I do. I really do. And if it's not, then it has to be soon. The colonel said this war has been going on for four years."

"There's wars that've lasted longer." Harry points out.

"I know, but by the end, people begin losing sight of what the war even means. Like he said, do we even know what we're fighting for?"

"I--" Harry cuts himself off. He isn't sure if he should say what he's really fighting for now. He hinted at it earlier, but now, in the low light with Niall, alone in a bedroom for the first time in ages, he's not sure he and Niall have even been together long enough to make such big statements. Instead, he says, "I didn't know."