I Want It Bad - Narry

Chapter Thirty One

Warning: Basically there are 1,139 words of pure smut at the end, so. Enjoy, you filthy fuckers.

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Niall stares blankly at his brother, a million questions swirling around in his head. He can't bring himself to say anything, a mix between confusion, anger, and vexation embodying him.

Harry looks between the two helplessly, not sure what to do. He doesn't know much about Greg; just that Niall left him and his parents behind in the past for reasons that are justified. He's honestly surprised that Niall hasn't punched Greg in the face already, or worse. 

"Aren't ya gonna let me in, little brother?"

Greg has a wide grin on his face; acting as though there isn't anything wrong other than the fact that Niall hasn't let him inside yet. It's utterly ridiculous, Harry thinks. He's positive that Niall thinks so too by the way he's staring incredulously at his brother, like he's grown two heads.

"Let you in?" Niall's voice trembles as he talks, fingers gripping the door so tight that Harry thinks he might actually make indentions, "What makes you think you can just walk into my life and act like everything's okay?"

Greg's smile falters, a solemn look quickly overshadowing his features as he sighs. "Niall, you're the one who shut us out—"

"Don't you fucking dare," Niall cuts him off in a growl, eyes narrowed, "I don't want you're bullshit excuses and accusations because you know damn well that it wasn't my fault when Ma and Dad kicked me out and shipped me off to Uni."

"It was so you'll actually have a life, with a job that you can support yourself on—"

Niall cuts him off again with a dry, humorless laugh, jaw set tight. He doesn't bring his eyes off from the ground. "They just wanted another Greg. That's the only reason why they paid for my tuition. Hoping I would turn out like you somehow, prayed every night for a miracle."

Greg doesn't say anything, and Harry realizes that his silence says more than any words could. It makes his heart ache for Niall, especially as he nods bitterly, understanding Greg's silence too.  

"You have five fuckin" seconds to explain why you're here, or else I'll drag you out of here myself."

Harry knows the look etched across his face, and whatever happens, it won't end well. It shoots a sharp chill down his spine, leaving his chest tight. He doesn't want to admit it, but he actually feels . . . scared of him.

"Niall, please," Harry whispers, eyes wide in urgency, "just—come here, shut the door. You don't have to hurt him."

He immediately sees a shift in Niall's posture. His shoulders slump, his hand falls limply to his side. It's like a wave crashed over him and swept away every negative emotion underneath his stony expression when he heard his voice. All on his mind is Harry now, how tremulous and frightened his voice sounded. The last thing he wants is to have Harry scared of him; he can't let it happen again.

"Didn't tell me you had a visitor," Greg mumbles, peering around Niall to look in. His face twists into confusion when he sees Harry on the bed, eyebrows furrowing deeper at the clothes scattered across the floor beside him. Niall kicks the door forward so it blocks his view, eyes sharp in a scowl.

"He's my boyfriend, not a visitor," Niall mutters, and God, Harry swears his heart stutters at that, "and if you can't respect that, you need to leave." 

"Niall, wait—" Greg wedges his foot between the door, stopping Niall from closing it. His mouth is twisted in a grimace. "You're an uncle, Niall. I got married to a woman named Denise, and we had a son."