Giant

“Louis, where’s the iron?” Harry searched through the drawers in Louis’s bedroom. It hadn’t been on the ironing board.

Louis had been playing FIFA with Zayn in the living room, or at least Harry thought. When he came outside, the both of them were standing in the hall, sort of wide-eyed like they’d been caught doing something.

“Uh?” said Harry.

“It’s in the closet,” said Louis. “Top shelf.”

Zayn nodded, as if he knew too, like he and Louis had taken it and put it there which was why he looked so sure of himself.

“Uh,” said Harry again. “Right.”

He went to the hallway closet, then reached up and grabbed the iron. His shirt rode up as he did so, exposing a little bit of his stomach; but it was sort of like a schedule, a thing that happened–when Harry reached up to get things, his arms would strain, his muscles grew tight, and the edge of his shirt slipped up, always an inch of boxers and two inches of skin peeking out.

He thought he might’ve seen Zayn and Louis looking at him from around the corner. But that easily could’ve been his imagination.

*

Niall had asked Harry to make him dinner. Which wasn’t a rare occurrence, because Harry was easily the best cook out of the five of them.

But Harry couldn’t find the damn salt.

“Where’d you put the salt?” he asked Niall, who was sitting at the counter. Harry didn’t understand. Whether you could cook well or not, it was kind of hard to have a make meal without salt.

“Oh,” said Niall, and when Harry turned around Niall looked very convincingly surprised. Too convincingly surprised. “Uh, it might be in one of the shelves. Up… there.” He pointed to where the plates were usually kept.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s your salt doing there?”

Niall shrugged and offered no further explanation. Harry sighed and opened the shelf. Lo and behold, the salt container was there. Harry reached up to grab it.

He returned to making Niall’s meal. Niall seemed busy on his phone. Which he’d pulled out only after Harry had gotten the salt. Huh.

Zayn came in, which was really no surprise since they all had keys to each other’s apartments. “Got Harry to cook for you?” he said with a grin, walking into the kitchen and sliding into a chair next to Niall.

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know I don’t mind,” he said.

Niall said, “I definitely did,” to Zayn and returned the smirk, seemingly ignoring Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes again.

After a beat, Zayn said, “You should get me a bowl.”

“I don’t know if there’s enough pasta for all three of us,” said Harry. “I mean, I made enough for Niall and I was gonna steal some, so–”

“No, it’s okay, Zayn can have some,” Niall interrupted. “Get him a bowl.”

“Okay,” said Harry.

A few minutes passed.

“Aren’t you going to get him a bowl?” said Niall.

“When I’m done,” said Harry, stirring the pot.

“Why don’t you get me it now?” said Zayn. “And make your life easier?”

“I don’t think my life will be any easier or harder because of when I get you a bowl.”

“Do you not want to get him a bowl? Is this your subtle way of telling Zayn you don’t want to share pasta with him?” said Niall.

“Yeah,” said Zayn.

Harry sighed. “Okay, I’ll get you a bowl,” he said patiently, and then opened the shelf a few feet above him and stood on his tiptoes to get a bowl for Zayn.

He set it on the counter and then glanced at them. “Are you happy,” he started, but Zayn and Niall were staring, elbows on the table and chins in their hands.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“We’re not staring at you,” said Niall quickly.

“Yeah,” said Zayn. “We’re observing the plant behind you. It’s placed quite nicely.”

“Very nicely,” said Niall.

*

Harry was taking a shower. Louis had gone home for the weekend, so the other boys had been alternating flat-sitting which was really only to keep Harry company. They’d already alternated six times three hours in.

When he opened the shower curtain, his towel wasn’t there. He sighed and walked out, and spotted Niall’s recognizable hair and Liam’s recognizable back in the living room. Before Harry’s shower, Liam had just left and Zayn had just come in.

“Have you guys seen my towel?” he asked Niall and Liam. “I swear it was in the bathroom.”

“Check your bedroom,” said Niall.

Liam got up. “I’ll help look,” he said, smiling at Harry. His cheeks turned a bit pink when he realized that Harry was naked.

Harry tried to press back a chuckle, but Liam said, “shut up,” so apparently that didn’t work. They walked into Harry’s bedroom and Harry said, “Oh, it’s just on top of my dresser.”

“Wonder how it got there,” said Liam, in what very much sounded like his I’m trying to convince you that I’m not lying voice. Which really didn’t make any sense, because, well. What would Liam have to lie about? He’d just left. And then had gotten here. Or something.

Harry reached up and grabbed his towel. When he turned around, he caught Liam looking right at him.

“What, checking out my bum?” he asked with a giggle.

Liam’s eyes hadn’t been looking in that direction, actually. “No,” he said blankly, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

Harry shrugged and wrapped his towel around his waist. “Right, well,” he said. “Think I’ll just join you on watching the telly, I’ll put clothes on later.”

They walked back into the living room and Harry pinched Liam’s arse just for fun. Liam pulled away with a little giggle so Harry thought that he’d do something back, but Liam just joined Niall back on the couch and whispered something in his ear and Niall said, “oh, I hate you,” and Harry felt like he was missing something.

*

Harry fell asleep with Niall as company and woke up with Zayn playing Xbox in the living room. Liam came in later and Zayn said that they were going to go mess with Louis’s stuff, to which Harry replied, “just don’t move around all of his hair product.”

He was putting his dishes from breakfast in the sink when he heard a small smash! and hurried into Louis’s room. Zayn and Liam were standing there, looking guilty, a broken lightbulb at their feet.

“It was his fault,” Zayn said hurriedly, pointing at Liam.

Liam hit his hand away.

“Ugh,” said Harry, and went to Louis’s closet. “Where does he keep the light bulbs…”

He rummaged through the boxes below, and then peered at the higher shelves. “Ah,” he said, spotting the box that had LIGHTBULBS written on the side in Louis’s large, scrawly handwriting. He got up on his tiptoes to grab it. His shirt must’ve ridden up three inches.

His arms hurt when he set the box down.

Liam looked like he had hearts in his eyes and Zayn was texting. “What?” said Harry.

Niall appeared in the doorway.

Harry sighed. “Are you gonna switch again? Why don’t all three of you stay, if you want?”

“Do you want us to?” Liam seemed to have snapped out of–well, whatever.

“You seem to want to,” said Harry, searching through the box for a light bulb that pleased him. Or that ticked Louis off. Louis never liked the swirly ones.

“Well if you insist,” said Niall, now joining them on Louis’s bed.

“I never insisted for anything,” said Harry. “You were the one who–”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Zayn. He wasn’t texting anymore. “Have you found a bulb yet?”

“Ah.” Harry pulled out the single swirly bulb left. Louis must’ve missed it when he was throwing them out. He’d been scolded on it for wasting money, but, well. They had plenty of money.

Harry went over to Louis’s lamp, which was even taller than the shelf had been. “How’d you even break this?” he said, straining up to screw it in. “I’m the tallest one here.” His shirt felt like it was half off and his muscles ached when he settled back on the balls of his feet.

When he turned around, all three of them were looking at him.

“What?” Harry said.

*

Louis came back on Wednesday, and Harry and the other boys hugged him when he entered the flat.

“Missed you too, but do we have to do this every time one of us goes home for a bit?” Louis said with a laugh, patting Harry’s shoulder and Niall’s face. “What are the rest of you boys doing here?”

“They haven’t left me alone all weekend,” said Harry into the crook of Louis’s neck.

“It’s true,” said Zayn.

“I don’t blame,” said Louis, and when Harry pulled back he patted Harry’s cheek

They scurried after Louis like sheep to his bedroom, and Louis opened his suitcase and dumped everything on the floor. Liam looked down at it disapprovingly as Niall started rifling through his stuff. Zayn joined him on the floor, searching through Louis’s shopping bags.

“Harry, love,” said Louis. “Would you mind putting my suitcase in my closet?”

He batted his eyelashes and Harry shoved Louis’s face away from him. “Fine,” he said, picking it up with ease. “Where do you want it?”

“Top shelf.”

“Why do you put everything on your top shelf?” Harry muttered under his breath, and went to the closet and put the suitcase next to Louis’s other boxes. He stood on his tiptoes and pressed it all the way in.

“Liam left me out last time,” he heard Niall say behind him.

“I made up for that,” said Zayn’s voice.

“Yes, thank you Zayn.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry said, turning.

Louis waved a hand. “Nothing, nothing,” he said, and then looked around the room. “Is the lighting in here different or is it just me?” He scrunched his nose. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s what I made up for,” Zayn muttered.

“Yeah, I changed it,” said Harry, and started out the door. “To the bulbs you don’t like.”

Louis opened his mouth, but Harry called over his shoulder,

“And I’m not changing it again!”

*

Harry had been invited to a party today. He’d asked Zayn if he wanted to come with, which he did, and then they were going to pregame in Zayn’s flat.

But then the other boys had come and three hours passed and Niall was sitting on the couch with a bowl of weed in one hand, and a beer bottle in the other.

“I don’t know which one I should do first,” he said, swaying between both of them and giggling.

Louis was on the ground. Liam was next to him.

“You guys,” Liam said, and then hiccupped. “Tour resumes–hic!–again in a–hic!–few days.”

“That’s redundant,” Zayn said lazily.

“Did you have a point in saying that?” Louis said to Liam.

Harry was furrowing his eyebrows. He was still furrowing his eyebrows.

“What’s redundant about saying that?” he asked in the direction of the ground.

“I didn’t say anything was redundant,” said Louis.

Harry said, “I didn’t say you did,” and kicked his foot between Louis’s legs. He only touched a thigh, but Louis rolled over and mock-groaned in pain.

“ ‘E was talkin’ to you, mate,” Niall said, elbowing Zayn.

“Right,” said Zayn. “Hey, hey Harry.”

“What?”

“It’s gettin’ hot in here,” said Zayn.

“So take off all your clothes?” offered Louis.

Liam snorted and then giggled and started to curl up. Distantly Harry thought he looked like a puppy ready to take a nap. He also might’ve said that out loud, because then Liam shouted, “I do not!”

“No,” said Zayn. “No, no, no.” He waved his arm somewhere behind him. “You should open a window,” he slurred.

“Oh yeah!” said Louis. “A window. You should open one.”

“Also we can get lung cancer,” said Liam.

“I’m not going to get lung cancer,” said Harry. “I don’t smoke, like–like these two.” He gestured to the couch blindly.

“Hey, I don’t as much,” said Niall. “If anyone’s gettin’ lung cancer, Zayn’s getting it first.”

“No I’m not,” said Zayn, and poked Niall’s side, and Niall giggled and tried to poke Zayn back. There was a lot of giggling, Harry observed. A lot of it.

“Can you get lung cancer from doing drugs?” Louis asked thoughtfully.

“Well there’s, like, smoke,” Liam started, practically, but then frowned. “But I don’t know if it’s the same smoke, which you can get lung cancer from, from cigarette smoke, or like, other smoke…”

“Yer makin’ no sense,” said Niall, and Zayn caught him off-guard and jabbed him in the side again. Niall nearly fell off the couch laughing.

Harry tried to laugh too but it also felt like a cough. “Yeah, ‘m gonna open a window,” he said, climbing onto the couch and walking steadily toward the top hatch. He reached up and unhooked it and started tugging it down; Zayn’s windows always stuck.

“We could die,” he said, “‘n like. Like there’ll be newspapers that’ll say, ONE DIRECTION DIED BECAUSE THEY WERE GETTING TOO HIGH. Except it’ll rhyme so maybe they’ll make a song about us, like let’s get high high high till we see the sun, which is pretty high, you’re really high, you’re gonna die, turning heads down ‘cause they’re staring at your gra-a-ave.”

He giggled to himself and turned to jump down. The boys were staring at him, though, like he was Jesus towering over them or something.

“I’m not Jesus,” he said to himself.

Niall tackled him, then, causing Harry to fall down and nearly slip with a small, “oof!”

“Harry,” Niall was saying, stroking him. Stroking his back, Harry noted. “Harry, you’re so nice.”

“I am nice,” said Harry, and then, “I am?”

“You are quite nice,” said Louis, joining them. He pressed the sensitive spot on Harry’s back near where one of his tattoos was. Harry flinched and giggled and hit him away.

“Hey, pass him over, you gotta share,” said Zayn, and Harry instinctively let himself up so he could flop next to Zayn on the couch. Niall wouldn’t let go though, had wrapped himself around one of Harry’s legs.

Zayn lowered one of his shoulders and Harry burrowed his head into his neck. Zayn’s hand was traveling farther and farther downwards till it was at the hem of Harry’s shirt.

“Tryin’a cop a feel?” Harry said, lifting his head. Zayn shook his head, but his thumb was stroking at the skin there.

Louis had attached himself to Niall so they were now a leg hugging train. Liam was slowly crawling towards Harry and Zayn till he was at the edge of the couch, looking up at them with big eyes.

“Can you open more windows, Harry?” he said. “Like–hic!–a lot of windows?”

Harry was confused, but he supposed that wasn’t strange when he was inebriated. “Sure,” he said to Liam. “If it gets hotter in here, yeh.”

Liam nuzzled his head into Harry’s thigh. “ ‘S probably gonna get hotter,” he murmured. “Y’should just open all the windows.”

“Now,” agreed Louis.

“Forever,” Niall said into Harry’s jeans, the same time Zayn whispered into his hair, “change all the light bulbs too.”

“You’re weird,” said Harry, falling against them. “All of you. You’re so weird.”