“I don’t know Niall! I just promised my mother I’m bringing my boyfriend - a boyfriend I don’t have - to Thanksgiving dinner. What should I do? I can’t call back and be like, ‘Oh yeah mom, that boyfriend I said that I have, I don’t actually have. Sorry to disappoint you.’ My life is ruined.” Harry returns to suffocating himself with the pillow.
Niall laughs and Harry growls at his best friend’s unwarranted happiness in this life-ending situation. Harry is fucked. Fuck. He needs a boyfriend. Fuck.