Work Text:
Niall tossed the last cardboard box into the corner to join the growing pile. He stepped back to admire his newest piece of furniture in the room - a simple maplewood coffee table from IKEA, that he pushed over to the wall opposite the bed. He gathered the plastic bags and instruction manual and set them down on the desk.
It was Niall’s first full day in the new place. His mum had dropped him off last night; they had spent the whole day driving. What a way to spend Niall’s 18th. They had rented a minivan for the move, down from his parents’ place in Mullingar to southern England, all in the name of higher education.
The sheer amount of belongings that had amassed over the course of 18 years had surprised Niall, and making the decision of what to keep in boxes in the attic back home, what to take with him, and what to shove in the huge brown bin bags had been a painstaking one. Among some of the items that had made the take-to-uni cut were Niall’s guitar - obviously - and his extensive “cool sock collection”, as he put it. He had also taken the liberty to shove his string of fairy lights, star-shaped, into the box of hoodies and sweatpants. The lights were his favorite feature of his room back home, and he had guessed that he might feel more at home in his new room if he had them hanging up.
Today was Sunday, which meant that tomorrow was Monday; he had his first lecture tomorrow, as he had skipped out on “freshers week” in favor of spending extra time with his friends back in Ireland, who he probably wouldn’t see for some time now. He had spent the day assembling the contents of various IKEA boxes that they had picked up as they made their way down from Ireland. As he moved to sit himself down on the little stool that he had built first thing in the morning - so that he could sit down somewhat comfortably on his breaks from construction - he couldn’t help but feel a little burst of pride. He had built himself an armchair, a coffee table, and a bookshelf; they looked surprisingly good in the cramped student room. It was just that one room, with a bed already in the corner and a wardrobe beside it, and a small en-suite bathroom.
As soon as he put his full weight on the stool he heard a scrape and a crack, and next thing Niall knew, he was on the floor and in some pain. Suddenly, he connected the mysterious “leftover” screws from the morning with this unfortunate incident. Something definitely hadn’t been right with this stool. He slowly pushed himself back up to standing and assessed the damage. It seemed like he had completely forgotten to screw one of the legs on properly; the rest of the stool seemed to be intact, thankfully, but the third leg lay sadly on the side.
Huh, he thought sleepily. The sun was setting outside, and bathed his whole room in a golden glow - he had yet to install curtains. He glanced over at the broken stool again and contemplated fixing it, but it might take a while and he was way too tired and hungry at the moment. He could do it tomorrow.
It was time to venture down to the dining hall, as much as the idea scared Niall. He thought about pulling on a jacket off of the peg on the door but decided against it; it was a fairly warm autumn evening, surely a jacket wouldn’t be necessary. He opened the door, but turned around to appreciate how the evening light was filtering into the room. It’s the little things, he smiled to himself. With that, he stepped out onto the landing, pulled the door closed and locked it, beginning the trek down three flights of stairs to the ground level.
~
Harry pushed the stray strands of hair that were somewhat obscuring his vision back, wiped the last traces of tomato sauce from around his mouth, and got up from the table. Firmly clutching his plate, fork and napkin, he made his way over to the counter where he tossed the napkin into the bin and placed the plate and fork in the tubs.
It was ridiculously cold in the dining hall, and he was congratulating himself on having the sense to wear a jumper. Pulling his sleeves over his hands to try and warm his fingers, he walked briskly out of the din of the dining hall and into the quiet evening air, which was much more welcoming.
He paused in the small courtyard, leaving the building containing the dining hall, lecture rooms and some apartments on the upper levels behind him and facing the first-year living quarters. They ran in a long block of building with doors labelled A to G, with a large glass door between C and D that led into the foyer and out onto the street.
He had arrived a couple of hours ago and had spent all the time so far unpacking, so he hadn’t really had time to do any exploring. He noticed now that the courtyard actually contained a pond, a strip about six feet wide that ran the full length of the two adjacent buildings - he was stood on the wooden part that acted as a bridge between the pavement on both sides. He strode over to the railing and glanced down at the water. There were koi fish in the pond, all shades of orange, yellow and red, and Harry lost himself for a moment while he watched the fish swim calmly, sometimes dipping out of sight underneath the bridge and then reappearing, lazily swishing their fins as they navigated the clear pond and the reeds that had been planted on either side. There was a sheet of glass covering the pond, probably to stop the fish from freezing when the nights got colder.
A crashing sound followed by a thump brought him back to reality. It seemed to have come from a room with an open window facing the courtyard, up on the third floor of the C-block - which just so happened to be Harry’s block. Clearly his downstairs neighbour was having some sort of difficulty, but Harry felt like it was a little early in the settling-in process to go barging into somebody’s room asking them if they needed assistance.
The sun was on its way down. He jogged up the C-block stairs, and almost fell over backwards in surprise when a flurry of blond hurtled around the first, very narrow corner in the stairwell.
“Oi, steady on…” Harry mumbled as he grabbed onto the only thing that would prevent him from falling over - his ambusher’s shoulders. The blond boy did the same and they soon found themselves holding each other up, Harry failing to meet the boy’s gaze as they shuffled around in a semi-circle on the cramped landing. They let go as soon as they were turned around and steady, and Harry thought he heard the boy mumble something resembling the words “sorry mate” amidst the shoulder-grabbing and shuffling, but he couldn’t be sure.
They both hurried onwards - Harry up to his room, and the blond boy down, presumably to the dining hall. Harry had noticed that he was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt, and felt slightly sorry for him at the thought of the sub-zero conditions in the hall.
Harry made it to the fourth floor, slightly out of breath - he had never had to tackle this many stairs in his childhood home, and he reckoned that it would take some getting used to. Fishing his key from his back pocket, he unlocked the door to apartment number 7 and let himself in to what would be his home for the next year.
It was really nothing special. There was a bed in the far corner with a window next to it, a wardrobe beside the bed, and a desk, accompanied by a ratty old spinning chair with split seams. The navy blue tweed cover was steadily giving way to the yellow sponge of the seat. He had already arranged his clothes and shoes inside the small wardrobe, but he still needed to find some sort of bookshelf; the box of books, photo frames and other memorabilia was looming in the centre of the room and Harry knew that it couldn’t stay there forever.
It can for tonight, he thought to himself as he carefully hung up his jumper in the wardrobe on one of the bright yellow plastic hangers, opened the window to let the cool breeze into his slightly stuffy room, and padded over to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.
~
Niall was absolutely freezing.
He was now sat in the dining hall with a messy-haired boy who had introduced himself as Louis. Niall had initially decided to go sit with him for two reasons. Number one, he didn’t fancy sitting along on the first night; better to share his first-day jitters with someone than to sit alone. Plus, you might meet a friend. Worst-case scenario, you don’t hit it off and never speak to them again; Niall thought it was worth the risk.
The second reason, and the reason that Niall had picked this boy especially, was that he liked his shoes. Which sounds silly, but they were a pair of Vans that looked like they had originally been white, but somebody very talented had gone at them with some coloured pens and drawn graffiti all over. And they were cool.
“So...what is it you’re studying?”, Niall asked timidly as he finished a mouthful. His courage seemed to have waned - maybe he had used it all up in deciding to sit down here the first place.
“History and economics, but I’m already in my second year. You new?”
“Yeah,” replied Niall with a small smile, “m’reading Earth Sciences, so that’s, like, geology, but I kind of want to get into more space-type things afterwards, hopefully something to do with the landscapes of planets and things like that…”, he petered out. He was rambling, but to was comforting to be talking to this kid who already knew the ins and outs of the place. Niall reckoned that if they ended up being even remote acquaintances, he could definitely ask Louis about almost anything and not feel stupid about it. That was a good feeling to have right off the bat.
“Which block is it you’re livin’ in?”, Louis asked eagerly, like he was genuinely interested. Niall smiled.
“C, and yourself?” he asked.
“I actually live in the apartments just upstairs? With my mates, we decided that we all wanted out of the student rooms into something a little more grown-up, so we rented one of t’places here. It’s a bit pricey, but the three of us ‘ave all got jobs so we can at least make ends meet. Plus, you can’t beat the food down ‘ere, even though we’ve got a perfectly good kitchen, none of us can be arsed to cook all the time.”
It was Louis’ turn to ramble, but Niall didn’t mind in the slightest. Breaking the ice was important.
“Is it one of your mates that did your shoes?” Niall asked after a short bout of silence. “I couldn’t help but notice, they’re really cool.”
Louis grinned. “Yeah, it was my mate Zayn who did these,” he said proudly as he looked down at the shoes and pivoted his foot on the heel. “He’s doing Graphic Design, he’s really into graffiti and the like, loves to practice on different materials.”
Niall and Louis made pleasant conversation over their spaghetti, until Niall decided that although he was having a lovely time, it wasn’t worth developing frostbite on all ten of his fingers and so he excused himself.
“Wait, I’ll come with you,” said Louis as he got up with Niall. They made their way over to the counter where Niall disposed of his plate and cutlery, and Louis went for seconds.
“Thanks Louis, see you later!” Niall said as he turned to leave, rubbing his hands together desperately to try and introduce some feeling back into his fingertips.
“See ya around Niall,” Louis called happily as he sat back down at their table with his heaped plate.
The dining hall was like an icebox and made walking back outside feel as though he was suddenly enclosed in a lovely warm hug. He let himself in to C-block, and climbed the stairs two at a time, taking more care around the corners after his collision on the way down. He was highly motivated by the thought of a hot shower and his bed.
~
Harry was brought out of sleep by the tones of his alarm, which he had wisely set to the ever-gentle marimba. His phone lay on the floor next to his bed, as there was no bedside table. He reached out for the phone while trying to stay as much underneath the covers as possible, and eventually managed to grasp it with his fingertips. Sitting up in his bed, he switched off the alarm and took a look outside.
From Harry’s window, he could see almost straight into one of the apartments opposite, he now realised; their windows facing the courtyard all ran from the ceiling to the floor. In the kitchen of an apartment on the third floor, there stood a relatively thin, pyjama-clad boy who appeared to be cooking something on the stove. His hair was an inky black, sticking out as though he had just woken up, and Harry could see tattoos running up his arm and peeking out from underneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. Making sure that he was in a good position to either duck or look down at his phone in the event of being spotted, Harry continued his people-watching, which he found very relaxing.
Eventually, the boy finished his cooking and carried the fruits of his labor out of sight, on a tray with three plates. Harry got up from the bed after checking his Instagram feed, stripped down to his boxers and opened the double doors of the small wardrobe, and shivered - the air in the room was considerably colder than last night, probably due to the very leaky-looking single-glazed windows.
He picked out a simple white t-shirt, a pair of black skinny jeans, and his navy blue bomber jacket. Nothing too “out there” for the first day, he thought to himself as he dressed. He had his fair share of wacky patterned shirts, but there was a time and place for those.
It was only when he was hopping around the room trying to get his skinny jeans all the way up that he realised two things. Firstly, if whoever was living in the room below him wasn’t awake before, they definitely were now. He wasn’t the most graceful as he thumped around the room. Secondly, he realised that just as he had been able to observe the boy in the flat opposite making breakfast, whoever was in the kitchen area could also see him.
Harry paused for a moment, with his jeans resting in his mid-thigh region, and looked out of his window. Oh no. Surely enough, the boy who he has seen cooking earlier was now standing by the large windows overlooking the courtyard, plate in hand. He seemed preoccupied with trying to load something onto his fork, and wasn’t looking up at Harry. Yet.
Harry hopped his way to the bathroom as fast as he could manage, where he finished getting dressed. He really did need to invest in some curtains for the place. He took a quick glance at himself in the small mirror above the sink - the sickly yellow glow of the bathroom light made his skin look awful. He pulled the string hanging down from the ceiling to turn off the offensive light, and doubled back to the wardrobe for a pair of shoes with a vague idea of breakfast on his mind.
~
Niall slung his backpack over his shoulder as he walked out of the dining hall. He had woken up a little later than he had planned, and he had made the decision to take his bag along with him to breakfast so that he could leave straight from there - climbing the stairs all over again just to get a bag seemed silly, and he didn’t want to be late for his lecture on day one. He had also heard from Louis that the seats go fast.
Just as he was rummaging through his backpack to find his keycard, somebody walked past him, presumably on their way to breakfast. Niall glanced back at them over his shoulder, and thought he recognized the long brown mop of hair as that of the boy who he had bumped into in the stairs last night. He could have called to him, since he had almost caused the boy to fall down the stairs backwards; he felt like an apology was in order. He held back - the boy hadn’t noticed him and was through the doors on the other side before Niall had time to process any of this, so he let it go.
Next time, Niall thought as he swiped his card. He made his way through the foyer and the red front doors onto the street. Luckily, he had taken some time to get to know the small town beforehand with his parents, and knew where he was going as he set off down the street to his first lecture - fundamentals of geology I.
The walk was much shorter than he had anticipated, since this time his mother wasn’t with him, stopping at every other shop window, and he ended up arriving at the earth sciences building with half an hour before his lecture was due to start. He didn’t want to go hang around the lecture room doors for that long a time, so he kept walking. He cornered the street and saw a small park extending out into the distance on the other side of the street.
Walking through the park gates on a Monday morning at just past 8 AM was beautifully serene. There were not many people around - just the odd early bird jogger, and a group of people practicing what Niall recognized as Tai Chi on a patch of grass further away. After wandering around for a short while, he found a bench overlooking a thicket of wildflowers that caught his eye. He sat down, took out his brand new textbook, and began leafing through it as if testing the waters for what was to come.
Not long after, he was interrupted.
“Sorry?”
Niall jumped a little - the park was very quiet, and yet he hadn’t heard anybody walking on the dirt path that led past his bench. He turned around in his seat.
“Erm..hi?” Niall answered as he squinted up hopelessly at the newcomer - the sun was still quite low, and left them enveloped in a fiery glow and looking to Niall like nothing more than a silhouette.
“You look...familiar,” said the stranger.
Niall created a pregnant pause as he tried to distinguish a face from the silhouette. The stranger realised that he was struggling, and quickly moved themselves to sit down next to Niall, leaving very little space between them. Niall shifted slightly to his left, so that their thighs were no longer touching. The stranger stayed put.
When he glanced up again, he was this time met by a familiar face; it was the boy he had bumped into the night before.
“Did you follow me?” Niall spluttered incredulously.
“No? This is the quickest way to the Maths building,” the boy said very matter-of-factly, “I checked Google Maps and through this park is the fastest route. I just saw you sitting on the bench and I felt like I recognized you from somewhere so I thought I’d stop and ask, since I’ve still got time before my lecture,” he said, tapping at his thighs with his fingers. “I’m Harry, by the way,” he finished as he held out his hand.
“Pleasure. I’m Niall,” Niall replied as he returned Harry’s handshake. “You might recognise me from the stairs - we bumped into each other last night? C-block? Or maybe less bumped into, more like tried to send you flying down the bloody stairs. God, sorry about that, I was really hungry and in a hurry to get some food,” Niall explained all in one breath.
“Don’t worry about it, really, it wasn’t that bad,” Harry assured him. “I was just as eager to get back into my room, that dining hall was freezing!”
“You’re telling me! At least you had a proper jumper on, I was in there shivering with in a t-shirt…absolutely freezing...” Niall grumbled.
“I did feel kind of bad for you,” Harry admitted. “What is it you’re studying, Niall?”
Niall made a mental note not to ramble this time. “Earth science, so that’s geology basically,” he answered confidently.
“So you, like, study rocks? That...rocks,” Harry said sheepishly, letting out the tiniest giggle.
Niall scoffed at this, but couldn’t help laughing too. “Mate, that was one of the worst puns I’ve ever heard. Really. Possibly even the worst.”
Harry smiled really wide, and Niall noticed that he had a dimple in his left cheek. “Thanks!” he said proudly. “I’m Maths,” he followed, “well, I mean I’m studying maths. Math-e-ma-tics,” he said as he looked out to the horizon. “That one over there,” he said, pointing at a glass building beyond the wildflowers and the park fence, “is the maths building. Pretty cool, it’s got these gigantic glass windows that really let the light in and make it feel kind of like those offices that they have at Google. Like the ones in ‘The Internship’,” he clarified.
Niall followed Harry’s index finger and was able to glimpse the building. “Mine’s just back there, but I was so early for my lecture this morning that I decided to come out here to wait it out,” Niall explained in turn.
Harry nodded in agreement. “Lovely place, this park. Especially in the morning,” he almost whispered.
After sitting in comfortable silence punctuated by a few lines of conversation, Niall glanced down at his phone - it was already 8:20. The lecture hall was probably starting to fill up by now.
“Listen, I’ve got to go,” he said as he got up from the bench and stuffed the textbook back into his bag, “but it was nice meeting you,” he said to Harry.
“It was nice meeting you too, Niall,” answered Harry, smiling widely. “See you around, yeah?”
“Yeah, see you around,” Niall parroted back, smiling.
They lingered for a little while; Niall didn’t want to just turn his back on Harry and go.
“Okay...alright...bye then,” Niall muttered as he turned away from the bench.
“Bye!” said Harry again, making Niall turn back around. Harry gave a little wave that Niall happily returned before turning on his heel, turning his back on the bench and the boy.
Niall retraced his steps through the park. He turned to look at Harry one last time. He was still on the bench, staring out; at the wildflowers, the maths building, or nothing in particular, Niall couldn’t say.
~
Harry didn’t see Niall for the rest of the week, or the week after that, which he thought surprising - the complex in which they lived really wasn’t that big, and Niall even lived in the same block as him. How could they not run into each other in over two weeks? Harry had no way of finding out which apartment Niall lived in either, and there was no way he was going to go knocking around every single door in the block - he wanted to see Niall again, hang out maybe, but he wasn’t that desperate.
Even though they had only met that one time on the park bench, Harry felt like there was something there between himself and Niall; he had felt comfortable just sitting in silence together, exchanging some words of conversation, in a way that usually only happens between old friends.
And Harry missed Niall. He had met other people in the last two weeks, of course - he had managed to make acquaintances of previously unfamiliar faces, mostly from his lecture groups. Most notably, he had met a boy called Liam at dinner one night. He lived in the apartments above the dining hall with his flatmates, Louis and Zayn - the latter had turned out to be the boy who Harry had seen making breakfast, but he didn’t bring it up. He had been told that his people-watching habits could come off as creepy, and he didn’t want to scare his new friends off. They sat together for most meals, provided that they were both there at the same time; this was quite often, as it seemed that despite having a full kitchen at his disposal, Liam and his flatmates were all lazy cooks.
“Louis,” Harry asked one evening when they were throwing a frisbee in the park. From their patch of grass, Harry could see the bench and the thicket of wildflowers where he had unexpectedly spotted Niall on that first morning, and it had reminded him of something that he had meant to ask Louis.
Louis didn’t say anything, but gave Harry a little nod as Harry threw the frisbee to Liam.
“Do you know anybody called Niall? Blonde hair, blue eyes, little bit shorter than me, very Irish?” Harry asked in a single breath, as if he was scared of somebody overhearing him.
Louis face lit up with a spark of recognition. “Yeah! I sat with him at dinner, t’night before school started. Lovely chap, why d’you ask?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, I…” Harry trailed off. “I just, like, met him on that bench over there,” he gestured vaguely, “a couple of weeks ago, and we just talked and had a lovely time and I’d like to, like, be friends with him. He seemed nice.”
“Oi, you gonna pass, Harry?” Liam shouted out to Harry; he looked down. The frisbee was neatly nestled in the grass five feet to his right. He had been somewhat distracted.
“Sorry, Liam, here you go,” Harry called as picked up the frisbee and threw it towards Liam, slightly too fast. Liam had to jog backwards to catch it, but did so with ease - he was on the ultimate frisbee team, a sport that Harry had never heard of but was now quite invested in as Liam pleaded for him to come to as many of the games as possible.
“You know, Harry, I haven’t seen him around lately either. Maybe he’s moved? Or dropped out?” Louis suggested.
“Yeah, maybe…” Harry considered out loud. Both propositions saddened him.
He just really wanted to find Niall again, without resorting to a creepy stake-out by the front door, waiting for him to leave the block so that he could ambush him; he had his own things to be doing, too. Schoolwork was demanding, and he figured that as much as it pained him, he would just have to wait for Niall to reappear on his own.
The next morning, when Harry was getting ready, he could have sworn that he heard somebody singing. His window was open, but he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. He twisted his torso upwards, leaned out a little more, leaned to the right and to the left, desperately trying to get an idea of where the voice was coming from; to no avail. Eventually, he gave up and settled, leaning his elbows on the windowsill for a while, just listening. He easily matched the lyrics to a song; Amy Winehouse’s ‘Valerie’. It was a lovely voice, too - it didn’t sound forced, or like they were trying too hard, pushing it. It sounded natural and a little rough and Harry loved it. He stayed there, taking it in, allowing the cool autumn breeze to softly blow his hair.
~
Niall was deep in the flow of his work. It was a clear evening; Saturday, nearing 8 o’clock. He was sat on his bed, with the window open, poring over his textbooks with highlighters and post-its littering his bed, some spilling onto the floor when he adjusted his position. He had been working well these past few hours, these past few days, these past two weeks. He was completely immersed in his work, even though something was nagging at the back of his mind, telling him that it wasn’t necessary to be working this hard so early on; you’re meant to amp it up for exams, but Niall wasn’t sure that he could work any harder if he tried.
But that didn’t matter right now. He was working well, getting good marks on his essays, getting to grips with his subject, and surprisingly he didn’t feel himself getting stressed. He was very good at keeping on top of the workload, and very good at getting stuff to stick in his head. All good.
~
In his room, Harry was having a slight crisis.
He had a maths dinner in about half an hour - it would take him fifteen to get there - and he was running low on time. It would have been no problem if only it hadn’t been a special dinner where some of the senior professors would be present, resulting in a ‘formal’ dress code requirement that demanded considerably more effort than Harry was used to putting into his outfits. Somehow, he had thought that by putting off getting ready he could somehow avoid it, but urgency was the best motivator and he was finally up and picking out clothes.
Harry had cursed the situation as he dug out his nicest pair of black jeans from the depths of the wardrobe, pulled a white shirt off one of the hangers, and dressed. He had reckoned that the jeans might look more formal if he tucked the shirt in and secured the jeans with a simple black belt. He had picked out the black blazer that his mum had adamantly squished into one of the moving boxes that was already overflowing and threatening to rip at the corners, her reason being “just in case”, and silently thanked her as he pulled it on.
He had turned back to take a look at himself in the mirror, and ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to detangle it. He still hadn’t bought a brush from the supermarket down the road to replace the one that he had forgotten to bring from home, but overall, he didn’t look an absolute mess.
It wasn’t until he picked up the invitation to read it over one last time that the real crisis began.
“Formal dress code, tie required.”
Harry read it over again and again, even whispering it under his breath as he took it in - how could he have missed that? He pulled out the single tie that he had brought with him from one of the drawers in the wardrobe - a red number, with minuscule white polka dots arranged in neat rows. He let the tie slip through his fingers and onto the bed. Harry had no idea how to tie a tie. None at all. His first instinct was to pull out his phone and direct himself to Siri.
“Siri,” Harry asked quietly, “how do I tie a tie?” He set the phone down on the desk and moved back over to the bed, picking up the tie and trying to fashion it around his neck.
There was no response from Siri. Harry leapt back to the desk and squinted at the bright phone screen.
“Siri not available. Connect to the Internet,” he read off.
Damn it, the wi-fi must be down again, he thought to himself as he sat down on the edge of the desk to reconsider his options. The only viable one that came to mind was to ask his neighbour across the landing for help. Which was also the worst possible option, Harry thought. He had only seen his neighbour once, when they had both been leaving their rooms at the same time, and he hadn’t even acknowledged Harry. Plus, half-inviting himself into somebody else’s apartment seemed a little overzealous. He definitely wasn’t keen on doing it, but it was still better than showing up to the dinner underdressed - he decided to just bite the bullet and knock.
Harry took a deep breath before carefully knocking twice on the door of apartment number 8. He stepped back, threading the tie between his fingers as he waited for a response.
It never came. Harry knocked twice again, and pressed his ear to the door. He didn’t hear any stirring, any noises suggesting that the room was occupied at the time. Sighing, he padded down the stairs to the third floor.
He knew that number 6 was empty, since there was a big yellow poster on the door advertising some sort of renovation that was apparently taking place inside - he had heard that the last resident of the apartment above, number 7, had left the tap running with the plug in and then gotten locked out. By the time they had called somebody and were back inside, the sink had overflowed and flooded the bathroom with half an inch of water, which had somehow also leaked down to the next floor. Anyhow, the place was uninhabited and Harry moved straight on to number 5. He knocked twice.
~
There was a quick succession of knocks on Niall’s door, that he probably wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been taking a study break just then, playing games on his phone because the wifi was down again.
He hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t have to come inside; he had clothes heaped on the desk chair in so many layers that the actual fabric of the chair underneath was no longer visible. There were books, papers and pens on every flat surface. The low lighting coming from Niall’s fairy lights arranged around the bookshelf made the room feel very cosy, but Niall feared that it might look - odd, somehow; cave-like. He knew where everything was, of course he did, but to anybody else it would seem like the wind had just blown everything around the room, leaving it to settle in completely random places.
Niall bounded over to the door, taking only three steps to do so, and opened the door just enough that he could see who it was, but could still use his body to shield the room behind him from view.
His eyes widened in surprise and his eyebrows flew up towards his hairline as he beheld the boy standing before him - it was Harry, looking equally surprised. His cheeks were reddening a little, and he had a tie in hand.
“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, “what’s up? Good to see you…”
“Um...hi. Niall,” Harry managed to choke out. “I, erm. Well, I need a hand. Can you tie a tie?” he asked softly.
Niall smiled. “Yeah, of course. Uh,” he faltered, looking back over his shoulder at his room. Oh, screw it, he thought. “Come on in,” he said as he stepped to the side, opening the door a little more to admit him. “Sorry about the, um, the mess.”
Harry stepped inside, and Niall closed the door behind him. He only noticed now that Harry was particularly well-dressed - white shirt, blazer, and what appeared to be skinny jeans, accompanied by black dress shoes. Niall thought he looked...handsome. The frontal section of his hair was swept back, and the rest hung in loose curls around his face, just grazing his collarbones that were still visible - he had left the top five buttons of his shirt undone. Why, Niall couldn’t possibly say.
Niall bustled around the room, clearing the stool (that he had fixed since his fall on day one, making sure to use all the screws this time and tighten them extra well) of books in case Harry wanted to sit, and busied himself with turning on the lamp that stood by his bed, although it didn’t do much to enhance the overall lighting of the room.
“Right,” said Niall. Harry turned around. He had been looking at the posters on Niall’s notice board.
“You like the Eagles?” Harry asked, running his fingers down the side of the paper, smoothing it out.
“Yeah, I guess I do...they’re...my favorite band probably,” Niall replied quietly, looking at the poster and more importantly, avoiding Harry’s gaze. He couldn’t tell whether Harry was poking fun at him or not.
“I’ve never heard their music - can you play me some?” Harry asked as he nodded towards the guitar that was stood against the desk.
Niall paused for a beat.
“Or, I mean, you don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable. You can just play me some off your phone, or I can just look them up myself,” Harry continued quickly, patting himself down to locate his phone.
“No, the wifi’s down, I won’t be able to get onto youtube, haven’t got data and all that,” Niall supplied. “And nor will you,” he finished as Harry looked up from his phone, dejected. “Really, it’s okay, I’ll play a little bit for you,” Niall continued as he picked up the guitar and sat down on the bed, shifting the papers and pens. “Please,” he said, motioning for Harry to sit down on the stool.
“Thanks,” Harry said as he sat down, twiddling the tie between his fingers. “You know, you really don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he clarified, looking straight into Niall’s eyes from across the room so earnestly that it made Niall feel an odd spike of fondness for him.
“Honest, mate, I’ve already committed,” Niall laughed as he gestured at the guitar in his lap, “so settle down and let me play for you,” he ordered as he plucked the opening notes of ‘Hotel California’.
Niall played through the song with ease, looking down at his fingers determinedly, not even wanting to think about Harry watching him. He stopped after the first part of the second verse.
“There’s a whole guitar solo bit coming up here that I’m still learning, so…” he trailed off, strumming absentmindedly. He looked up, and Harry was glowing.
“Yay!” Harry laughed as he clapped his hands, “that was really good! I didn’t know you were a singer as well as a guitarist…” he petered out as he seemed to remember something.
“Hey, have you by any chance been singing Amy Winehouse lately?” he asked slowly, “‘Valerie’, to be precise. Because the other night, I thought I heard...somebody singing, and I was leaning out of my window listening because it was so nice. Ugh, that sounded a bit creepy. It was really nice though, was it you singing?” he finished, staring intently at the floor just in front of his feet.
Niall furrowed his brow. He didn’t really keep tabs on what he was singing, as he had a habit of doing it a lot. Every even slightly mundane task became that much more fun when you added song to it. He suddenly remembered that yes, he had been singing ‘Valerie’ not so long ago, when he was folding his clean clothes. He remembered it specifically because he had been trying to perfect the exact tone of voice that he thought most fitting.
“Yeah, that might’ve been me…thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed it, I was just practicing,” he replied, blushing a little. Harry had enjoyed his singing, he thought to himself proudly. He’d been listening.
There was a moment of silence, in which Niall got up to put the guitar back and Harry stood up from the stool and cleared his throat.
“So... do you also do ties?” Harry asked, holding up the tie and cocking his head to the side with a small smile.
“Oh yeah of course, sorry, you came for the tie…” Niall babbled. “Right, pass it here.” He took the tie from Harry and gave him a quizzical look. “You’re going to have to do up those buttons if we’re gonna make this work,” he laughed.
Harry looked down at his exposed chest. “Oh, yeah you’re probably right,” he muttered with a small giggle. As he worked the buttons, Niall was able to distinguish a couple of tattoos that he had - two birds, one underneath each collarbone, and some roman numerals across his left collarbone. Niall found himself wondering what these ones meant to Harry, and whether he had other ones. However, before he could formulate a question, the buttons were done up and Harry looked back up at him expectantly.
“Alright. So, it’s probably best if I, like, teach you so that someday, you can do this yourself,” Niall said, looking Harry in the eyes.
Harry smiled back. “Sounds like a plan.”
“So what you want to do first is you want to turn your collar up like this,” Niall said as he unfolded Harry’s shirt collar. Neither of them had realised how intimate this would be, their faces no more than a foot apart. Seeing as they had technically only met once before, this was very full-on.
“And then, you hold the tie like this,” Niall demonstrated, pinching the tie in the middle and letting it hang down in two equal lengths, “and then you put it around your neck,” he said, lifting the tie over Harry’s head, “and pull so that the end of this skinnier bit,” he pointed, “is about in line with the top of your ribcage.”
“So far so good,” Harry laughed quietly.
“Then, ya cross over this skinny bit, and cross the wider bit over that,” Niall continued, growing ever more aware of Harry being right there in front of him. This near-stranger was almost bumping heads with him as he looked down at the tie, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what had happened so far, and Niall’s hands were getting a little sweaty.
“Now, this is the tricky bit, the actual knot. You hold out this crossed bit,” Niall pulled on the cross, bringing Harry even closer, “and pull this wider bit up, push it behind the cross, and bring it all the way through like this,” he continued, as he tried to get the wide part of the tie through without fondling Harry’s chest. He struggled.
Harry lifted his hand and patted Niall’s arm lightly. “Mate. It’s alright, you can touch me. I’m not made of glass,” he said easily. “Relax.”
Niall huffed indignantly, muttering something about not being afraid to do so anyhow before continuing. “You still following?” he asked Harry.
“Yeah, yeah I think so, go on.”
“So then, you’re crossing over the wider bit, underneath,” he passed it under with ease this time, more comfortably, “and now you grab it from underneath, and push it back down all the way, behind the crossed part. Still good? I want you to learn how to do this properly. How come you can’t tie a tie anyhow? Don’t all schools have uniforms here?” Niall asked, pausing for a moment but not letting go of the tie in progress.
“Went to an international school,” Harry answered, “we wore our own clothes. If I ever needed to wear a tie, my stepdad would do it for me. Really haven’t been to many formal events lately,” he grinned.
“Mmh,” Niall hummed as he made a mental note to ask Harry more about his school at another time. “Right, so now you cross over this part again, but over the top, and you put your finger here as a placeholder. See? Then, you push it underneath this side, and, are you listening? Watching carefully? This is the final step - you push it through this bit that you were holding with your finger, pull it til the knot’s secure, and voilà!” Niall finished with a flourish, pulling down on the tie just a little. “There, have a go at tightening it yourself, I don’t want to choke you.”
Harry laughed, and gave the tie another tug, allowing it to fit snugly around his neck. He walked past Niall and over to the wardrobe, where he took a look at himself in the full-length mirror on the door.
Niall came up behind him - Harry was a little taller than him, but he could still see over his shoulder. “Wait, your collar is wrinkled at the back,” he said quietly as he adjusted Harry’s shirt. Harry smiled at him in the mirror, and Niall returned the smile.
“Thank you so much,” Harry said suddenly, whirling around to face Niall and pulling him into a tight hug, pinning Niall’s arms by his sides. He let go before Niall had time to respond, and took a small step back.
“No worries mate, happy to help,” replied Niall, and he found that he genuinely meant it. He wondered whether he would have been as warm if it had been somebody else, somebody other than Harry.
“Well, at least now I won’t be an embarrassment to my professors,” Harry quipped. “I’ve got a maths dinner, you see, formal dress code, lots of important people there and things. Wouldn’t want to be that one guy who’s underdressed. Thank you, Niall, really.”
“Anytime, honest. Happy to help,” Niall repeated. He was never very good at accepting thank yous.
“Ah, shit, I’m going to be late,” Harry muttered as he looked down at his phone, “see you, Niall,” he called as he was already halfway out the door. He moved so fast on those long legs of his.
It dawned on Niall that it was now or never. If he didn’t ask now, he’d have to wait for another coincidence before he saw Harry again.
“Harry! Harry wait!” Niall yelped. Harry paused in the doorway and stepped backwards into the room. “What - can I - um,” he suddenly floundered, “...which room are you in?” he finally managed.
“Number eight,” Harry provided straight away, “I’m up in number eight. Bye!”, and with that, he shut the door and Niall heard him bound back up the stairs.
Niall glanced around his room, as if asking each piece of furniture “did you see that? Did that really just happen?”. He couldn’t believe it. Harry’s absence was so tangible; it felt like something was missing from the room.
He hadn’t consciously missed Harry, per se, but now that he had come and gone Niall felt somehow different. Harry hadn’t made him feel jittery, like there was a colony of butterflies living in his stomach; not light-headed or dizzy, and he hadn’t made his heartrate go off the charts. Harry had made him feel - at peace. He felt like something had been lifted off his shoulders, something that he didn’t even know he was carrying. That feeling made him want to see Harry again; again and again and again. He felt light.
Smiling ridiculously wide, he fell onto his bed on his front, replaying the whole series of events in his head. He heard somebody thundering back down the stairs again after barely a minute; it must have been Harry, running off to his dinner. Niall pulled his body over to the window and pressed his forehead to the glass, watching Harry leave. He desperately wanted to see him again. He had to see him again, and he now began working through his schedule, trying to find a slot.
~
“Niall,” Harry asked on the first evening of December. They were holed up in the newly-discovered common room in the basement of the dining hall, playing FIFA. It was just the two of them - everyone else was either asleep, or out watching the cricket at the pub down the road. They were sat on the floor between the ill-positioned sofas; none of them were actually facing the TV, and they were too heavy to be moved, so Harry and Niall had pulled off the large cushions and were sitting on them comfortably.
“Tell me, Harry,” Niall answered, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“Louis is having an early birthday party, next Saturday. I was, um, I was wondering whether you’re going?Because if you are...it’s just...I don’t really drink all that much. So really, what I’m asking for here is somebody to, erm, be my sober friend?” he asked, shakily. In past experiences, nobody had ever wanted to go dry for a whole night, and Harry ended up leaving parties about two hours in.
“I totally get it if you don’t want to, it’s not a big deal, you don’t have to, but I just...wanted to ask, just in case,” Harry rambled.
Niall paused the game and looked over at Harry, smiling earnestly. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I’m usually the one who gets the sloppiest at these types of things, but… yeah, no of course I’ll be your sober buddy. We’ll have fun,” he said confidently.
Harry launched himself at Niall, throwing his arms around the blond, squishing him against the sofa.
“Thankyouthankyouthankyou Niall, you’re the best,” he bubbled. Niall smelled like a mix of mint and a crisp cologne that Harry thought he recognized the smell of - he vaguely remembers smelling it in a shop, a Hugo Boss maybe? He rested his chin on the back of Niall’s shoulder, arms still around him.
“No worries mate, I’m glad you asked. I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable,” Niall assured him, patting him gently on the back, trying to position himself so that he could breathe a little better underneath Harry’s weight.
“So that’s a definite yes?” Harry asked quickly, pulling away from Niall and gripping his shoulders.
“Yes! Yeah, Harry,” Niall laughed, “now get off me and let’s finish this game. Or rather, you can sit back and watch me win…” he said cheekily as he picked up the controller and unpaused before Harry even had time to think about getting his own back.
“Niall! You dirty cheat…” Harry whined as he grabbed his controller. It was too late - Niall had already made it over to the penalty box, and Harry’s players were scattered.
“Goooooooaaaaaaaaaal!” Niall yelled triumphantly as he scored. “Sorry mate, it was bound to happen,” he said, laughing at Harry’s most indignant, grumpy face, which cracked and gave way to a fit of giggles.
Harry and Niall had met up again the day after the incident with the tie, back in early October. Since then, they had grown incredibly close. Sometimes, Harry went over to Niall’s room just to revise because he felt like Niall’s immense concentration rubbed off on him. And Niall would play him some guitar, and even attempt to teach him although they made blisteringly slow progress. Their friendship was one that Harry suspected they both treasured like no other.
Niall would also come and hang out with him and Louis, Liam and Zayn when he had the time, and Harry felt like he had gotten Niall to come out of his shell a little. The five of them had become close as well, but out of them all, Niall was the one he saw the most. Partly because they lived in the same building and usually walked to lectures together, but partly because Harry wanted it, and went out of his way to have it so.
“I demand a rematch,” Harry grumbled as Niall cackled away.
~
Niall checked the time - 7:35PM. Harry was due to come by his door at quarter-to, and then they would set off to Louis’ party together. He was holding it at one of the nicer clubs in town, a very modern one with three floors. Niall had never been himself, but he had googled it for directions and had seen some photos; he thought of himself as more of a pub-kind of person.
Niall was currently standing in front of the wardrobe, doors wide open - and most importantly, the curtains drawn. Not too long ago, when he had just come out of the shower and was clad in nothing more than a towel around his hips, he had glanced out of the window and noticed Liam waving at him merrily from their apartment, which was at a slight upwards angle from Niall’s window. Zayn was stood next to him, doubled up laughing. Niall had waved back wearily before gathering whatever clothes were lying around and making an escape back to the bathroom to get dressed in peace.
He had told Harry about his unfortunate incident, and Harry had told him in return that he had had a similar experience - he reckons that Zayn hadn’t actually seen him in his boxers, but that it was a close call (Zayn was unable to comment when Niall had asked him about it later, because he was laughing hysterically). Harry and Niall had ended up catching a bus to the IKEA on the outskirts of town together, in an effort to end these involuntary peep-shows once and for all.
Niall was very thankful for his deep-blue curtains as he stood there, contemplating an outfit. He ended up choosing a white jumper with the number 39 on the front, and light grey skinny jeans with rips at the knees. He knew that he would probably get a little cold on the walk there, but he was prepared to risk it - these were the only clean pair of jeans that he had at the moment. He pulled on his dark grey wool coat and just as he was lacing up his Nikes, there was a knock on the door. He hopped over on one foot to avoid tripping on the untied laces and pulled open the door to reveal a very excited-looking Harry, clutching a small, very shoddily wrapped item in his hands.
“Ready to go?” he asked eagerly. Niall did a double take - Harry looked really good. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt, with a deep red plaid shirt on top, left unbuttoned. He had on his customary black jeans, and a brown coat that looked incredibly soft. His hair was down, and there was a red beanie hanging out of his jacket pocket.
“Yeah, gimme a sec,” Niall said as went back to tying his laces and then grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet, as well as the envelope he had for Louis. Niall’s forté was not buying gifts, and he had opted for a simple gift card for the local sports shop - he thought Louis might appreciate that, seeing as he already had a pretty hefty chunk of rent to pay and really didn’t have that much to spare for extras.
“Alright, let’s go. I’ve got the directions on here,” Niall said, holding up his phone, “so we should make it there just in time if we don’t get lost, “ he concluded as he pulled the door closed behind himself. They shuffled down the stairs one after the other and set off into the cold night.
~
Louis clearly had a lot more friends than he let on, and the place was packed. The highest concentration of people was by the dance floor on each level of the club, but even the space near the stairs on the top floor where Harry had just found Niall was fairly cramped. And holy shit it was loud - Harry had to lean in until his lips were almost brushing Niall’s ear for him to hear what he was saying, making him blush a little.
“Hey, Niall,” Harry spoke loudly into Niall’s ear, “d’you want to go up? I heard some people talking and they said that this place has a flat roof, great for taking a breather...” he hinted, hoping that Niall would get the message - he needed a break. It had been almost four hours since they’d arrived, and he had done his fair share of dancing and talking by now.
He didn’t catch Niall’s reply, but understood from the tug on his sleeve that he was up for it. Harry grabbed his forearm and pulled him through the mass of people, keeping near the wall to avoid the sinkhole that was the dance floor, until they reached the door at the far end of the room that Harry’s informants had been drunkenly gesturing at. Harry pushed the door, leaning almost his full weight on it before it gave way; it clearly hadn’t been used in a while and although it was barely audible over the music, it gave a creak.
Harry pulled Niall through the doorway and shut it behind them.
“Oh wow,” Niall remarked very loudly at the staggering lack of noise, forgetting that he could speak at a regular volume now.
“I know, right? Come on, it must be just up here,” Harry ushered Niall onwards. They climbed the creaking spiral stairs, ending in another slightly rusty door that Niall managed to open after giving it a little kick.
“Not dodgy at all, Harry,” Niall laughed as they made it onto the roof. “Blimey, it’s a bit windy! At least there’s railing, so we won’t get blown off,” Niall observed as he buttoned his coat and strode over to the stretch of roof overlooking the street below, leaning his forearms on the railing.
Harry moved over to join him, leaving some space between them. He reached for the beanie that was stuffed in his jacket pocket, and put it on in an effort to keep his hair from blowing all over the place. His eyes were tearing up a little from the icy wind; he wiped at them with his sleeve.
Niall was looking out, deep in thought. There were no cars in the vicinity, and the night was very quiet apart from the fierce wind. Niall looked so pensive and calm as he stared out at the crescent moon, tilting his head up to look at the stars. The streetlight below illuminated his face in a breathtaking, fiery orange glow that made Harry’s heart slow down and made his mind empty. He knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Niall looked gorgeous, his hair blowing in the gale.
“I love you,” Harry blurted suddenly. He didn’t even realize that he’d said it before the words had already exited his mouth, and suddenly all his fondest memories with Niall came rushing back to him.
The time they were sitting in the park with smoothies and had gotten assaulted by a group of very keen, borderline aggressive wasps, forcing them to abandon the drinks altogether and flee. The time that he had already gotten in the shower and wetted his hair before he realized that he’d ran out of shampoo, and had to head down to Niall’s door wrapped in a towel to ask him if he had some that he could borrow. The time he and Niall had discovered a huge fancy dress shop in the town and tried on every imaginable hat that they had in there, which had made for some pretty amazing pictures. The time they had been at a karaoke night with the other boys and he and Niall had done a duet of ‘You’re The One That I Want’ from Grease (and absolutely killed it, judging from audience reaction). The times that they had just sat together in Niall’s room, Harry trying to play guitar but eventually yielding it over to Niall and singing along to the songs that he played; staying up late chatting about Harry’s old school and tattoos and Niall’s old band and love of space. That’s when Harry realised - he had been falling for Niall this whole time, and this is how it had finally bubbled to the surface. Shit. He didn’t even know if Niall liked boys. Shit.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. He had just blurted this completely at the wrong time, and actually, he really shouldn’t have said it at all - now Niall was going to leave and they wouldn’t be friends anymore because he had gone and colossally messed everything up. Losing Niall was one of the worst scenarios that he could imagine. Not now, after they had been friends for just over two months now; two months that had been absolutely amazing for Harry.
“Mate, you alright?” he heard Niall ask as he slid along the railing, closer to Harry. He was shocked back into the moment.
“What?” Harry asked, eyes snapping open.
“You’re breathing really heavily, are you okay?” Niall asked, concern lining his voice.
“Oh, what, no, I’m,” he stammered, “um, no I’m just, uh, it got a bit hot in there you know?”. Harry looked away; he absolutely couldn’t believe it. It appeared as though Niall hadn’t heard him. The roof was pretty windy, and he hadn’t said a word. Either Niall was very good at brushing off awkward situations, or he really had not heard him.
Harry desperately hoped that it was the latter as he rubbed his hands together - he had brought a hat, but had forgotten the gloves.
“Alright, just checking,” Niall said softly. “You cold?” he asked as Harry gave up on warming his hands, letting them hang by his sides instead.
“Just a little, yeah. What about you, with those jeans,” Harry pointed down at the rips at Niall’s knees, “surely you’re not exactly burning up either?”
“Nah, I’m alright actually. You’re right, I didn’t realise how hot it was down there, I think I’m still retaining some of that heat,” Niall answered.
Harry hummed in response, and breathed a deep sigh of pure relief. He decided to give warming up his hands another go. The pockets of his jeans were too small to fit his full hand in, and the jacket pockets were full - his phone and headphones occupying one, and his wallet and keys the other. He gave it a rest once again, and let his arms hang helplessly.
Suddenly, he felt a touch of warmth on his right hand. He looked down carefully - Niall had bumped his hand against Harry’s as he’d moved a little. Niall’s hand lingered there, and Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do as he stared straight ahead. Then, he felt Niall’s hand enclose over his own, holding it gently. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat.
“Is this okay?” Niall asked, looking over at Harry. Harry nodded in return, hoping that it hadn’t come off too enthusiastic and that he didn’t convey the feeling of yes of course you can hold my hand please hold my hand Niall, which he was very much feeling at the moment. He threaded his fingers through Niall’s and gave his hand a small squeeze, allowing it to warm up his frosty fingers. Niall’s hand was scorching hot.
“Niall?”
“Yes, pet?”
“You’re on fire,” he said quietly. Niall laughed softly.
They stood there for a good while, looking out at the stars and holding hands, neither of them going for anything more than that. Harry was very reluctant to break away, but after fifteen minutes he was almost falling asleep on his feet. He also had barely any feeling left in his left hand, which was less than ideal.
Niall stayed at the club for a little longer while Harry walked home on his own. He was rewinding the memory of them on the roof the whole way home, wishing and hoping and praying that it would somehow happen again. He wanted it to happen again, even though he wasn’t sure of where it would lead them, or where he wanted it to lead them. All he knew was that something about holding Niall’s hand had felt undoubtedly good and right and real. Harry giggled a little at the absurdity of it all as he fell into bed, and was fast asleep in under five minutes.
~
It was the second week of January, the week after they had come back from the winter holidays; meaning that exams were in full swing. And Niall was panicking.
He had gone home for Christmas and New Year’s and seen his family, which had done a fantastic job of distancing him from the reality that he would have to face when he came back to school. But now, reality was here and he couldn’t take it. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done the work - far from it. He had meticulously planned out his revision time; all of his notes neatly organized in folders, colour-coded. Everything was ready, and he should have been feeling prepared. But he wasn’t. Not in the slightest.
It was as if he was constantly leaning back on a chair, threatening to fall backwards at any moment - his stomach was in knots. He kept feeling as though he had missed something in his revision, or that he might forget something crucial, or that his pen would run out mid-exam or that his calculator would run out of charge. He couldn’t possibly work any harder, and yet he felt like he wasn’t doing enough. He couldn’t stop thinking about revision, upcoming exams, exams that he had already taken. His mind was racing with the questions in this morning’s paper, as he went through them again and again, reformulating his responses despite having no way to alter them anymore.
It’s in the past, let it go, he told himself desperately, as he lay curled up on his bed trying his best not to cry with the weight of it all pressing down on him. He felt like he was suffocating in this room, filled to the brim with his stupid notes and stupid highlighters and stupid books. He wanted out. He needed to get out.
He raced out of his room, closing the door behind him a little too quickly - it shut with a loud bang. Niall now stood on the landing, breathing a little heavily, with no clear idea of where he was headed. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. He could go out for a walk; it was just past two in the afternoon, and his next exam - the word felt foul as it crossed his mind - was at five. That’s what he would do. A quick walk around the park to calm himself down. He let himself back into his room, grabbed a coat and pulled on shoes. He headed out.
It was a cold but clear afternoon. Niall walked to his lecture building but continued past it. He used this as a metaphor in his head - just ignore the school part of the picture, leave it behind. He entered the park, and decided to walk around it in the opposite direction than he usually does, meaning that he’d end up at the bench with the wildflowers right at the end.
As he paced through the snowy park, he could feel himself relaxing and unwinding a little. Whilst observing the ducks in the small pond, paddling in the patches that weren’t frozen over, and smiling at a particularly curious dog mercilessly pulling on its leash as it explored the snow, Niall managed to clear his head. When the distractions waned, and could feel the dread creeping back up on him like an icy chill, he concentrated on simply putting one foot in front of the other, falling into a trance as he counted his steps.
Eventually, he turned a corner and saw the bench, but could already see from a distance that it was occupied. He huffed in annoyance, and decided that he’d just have to walk straight back home. He didn’t feel like sharing a bench with a stranger when he was in such a fragile state.
However, as he neared the bench, the previously ambiguous human shape sitting there became clearer and clearer, until he could distinguish the sharp features, the brown curls, and long, thin legs, crossed at the ankles - it was Harry, sitting on the bench, looking out at the snow-covered park.
Amidst all of his exam stress, Niall had completely forgotten about Harry. Not in a bad way, but it was the same with everyone. People stayed in during exams, and very little socializing went on as everyone put their heads down and gave it their all. He hadn’t seen anybody recently, including Harry. But now he was almost right behind the bench, and had to make a decision. Niall decided that he would sit down.
“Hi, Harry, d’you mind if I,” Niall asked quietly, afraid of disturbing Harry’s peace.
Harry turned around slowly, and took a second to take in Niall’s presence. “No, of course not, sit down. You doing alright? Taking a break?” he enquired as Niall brushed bits off snow off the seat and sat himself down, hands in his lap.
“Yeah, I just…” he faltered, “I had to get out. Got a bit much, you know?” he said, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible. Come on Niall, keep it together, he willed himself.
Niall hadn’t forgotten about that night of Louis’ birthday party on the roof. He wasn’t quite sure what had made him do it - reach out for Harry’s hand - but he didn’t regret it. When he thought about it now, he did feel a certain fondness for Harry that he can’t really remember feeling the likes of before. He had talked to Louis about it; told him about how he felt. Which had been difficult, because he wasn’t exactly sure about how he felt. Louis had been incredibly understanding though, and told Niall not to worry about it too much - let their friendship run along and see if anything cropped up along the way. Louis’ advice had soothed Niall then, but he was still a little on-edge. He hadn’t been in many relationships before - he had an ex-girlfriend, but the feelings that he had then seemed diluted now, compared to what he was feeling. This scared Niall a little bit, or maybe a bit more than a little. A lot. It scared Niall a lot.
“Ah,” Harry said softly as he looked back out at the park. “Good place to do just that, isn’t it?” he said, gesturing at the park around them.
“Yeah, yeah it is,” Niall agreed.
“What do you mean, though,” Harry asked as he turned and angled his body towards Niall. “Do you need to talk about anything? Because if you do, I’m happy to listen, you know. If you wanna just, let it all out or whatever. You seem a little tense,” Harry said carefully, looking ahead.
“It’s just,” Niall began, but found that he was unable to continue. He was crying. Not the loud, sobbing kind; this was the frustrated, hopeless, quiet kind of crying, with fat tears rolling down his cheeks, briefly warming his cold nose as they slid down.
Harry didn’t react until Niall had to sniff to clear his airways a little, and gave a small gulp. He had been quiet so far, and cursed himself silently as he felt Harry shift a little beside him.
“Niall, you really should have dressed a little - oh,” Harry stopped as he noticed the wet streaks all over Niall’s cheeks. “Oh no, Niall, come here,” he muttered tenderly as he put his arm around the now-shaking Niall, pulling him close until Niall’s head was comfortably snug in the crook of Harry’s neck which was covered by a thick, knitted scarf.
“Sorry, sorry,” Niall mumbled into the scarf between sharp breaths, but Harry shushed him.
“Shh, Niall. You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he assured Niall as he rubbed his back and kissed his temple lightly. “Let it all out. Let it go. There you go.”
They sat together like this until Niall was all out of tears. He was getting a little cold now, despite being wrapped under Harry’s arm; the tears had frozen onto his face, and his eyes were a little red and puffy.
“Thank you, Harry,” Niall whispered, his voice still a little thick, “I really needed that. To get everything out. It’s just, I want to do well. But I think my methods are flawed,” he said with a resigned laugh.
“Mmm,” Harry hummed. “You’re clever, Niall. Really. You’ll be just fine. These are the first exams of our whole three years here. Don’t sweat them too much, alright? Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, yeah? That you’ll put yourself first? Promise? ” he asked firmly.
Niall pulled away a little to look at Harry. His hair was a little frizzy because of the cold, dry air, but more or less contained under a beanie. The afternoon sun made his green eyes look all the more bright, but his brow was furrowed as he stared intently at Niall, waiting for a response. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and he looked so cosy all bundled up in his scarf and parka. He looked like home.
“Promise. I promise,” Niall said, giving a small smile and not breaking eye contact, his heart threatening to burst with sheer affection for Harry. He made Niall feel strong. Like he could get through this, like he could get through anything.
I love you, Niall thought, but dared not say it aloud - he feared that it would sound flippant, or rushed; wrong, somehow, in this moment. Instead, he stayed quiet and leaned back into Harry.
“Thank you,” Harry replied simply, holding him tight.
~
“Pens down, please, stop writing. The exam is finished.”
These words bounced around Harry’s brain as he capped his pen and slid the cover onto his calculator. He glanced back down at the question that he had just finished, and closed his exam paper, flipping it right side up before handing it over to the man collecting them.
That’s it, he thought triumphantly, that’s it! The exam season was hereby over, and he couldn’t help but smile as he pushed his chair back and strode out of the exam room ahead of the others, nimbly making his way down the stairs and out of the building before anybody else. He stuffed the plastic bag that had served as his exam pencil case into his coat pocket and began the walk home.
He knew that Niall’s exam ended an hour and a half later than his, at 4:30. They had arranged for Harry to go down to Niall’s room later that evening, after Niall had gone out with his earth science buddies for a celebratory round of bowling and after he had been out ice skating with his maths study group. The celebrations were all around.
Harry popped into the supermarket on his way home to buy a bottle of champagne for their get-together; this was a momentous occasion, and Harry was prepared to splurge a little, especially on Niall. They had, after all, just finished their gruelling two weeks of exams, their first set of exams of this calibre, and he could imagine that Niall would be feeling even more elated than he was, once he got out.
While he was hunting the aisles for the biscuits that he knew Niall loved, he had a better idea - he could bake something himself. He had another two hours before he would have to leave to get to the ice rink, and he didn’t see why he couldn’t use the kitchen in the dining hall - it was ages until dinner time and he had made friends with the cook. Surely they wouldn’t mind him quickly baking some biscuits. He doubled back through the shop to gather ingredients after finding a recipe for ginger and chocolate chip biscuits on his phone. He paid for the items and set off walking again.
Since Niall’s breakdown that one afternoon in the park, Harry had made a habit of knocking on his door every once in a while, just to check that he was keeping to his promise. Usually, Niall was doing just fine, but once he had looked a little teary and Harry had taken it upon himself to coax Niall outside to look at the fish in the courtyard pond. Watching the fish swim around serenely underneath the glass, without a care in the world, had calmed him down. Harry absolutely hated seeing Niall carrying the whole world up on his shoulders, and couldn’t bear to think that he was suffering alone when he was so willing to help, more than happy to bear some of the weight.
He had come close, when they had been sat on the bench and Niall was staring up at him, to kissing him. But he had held back; although he wanted to kiss Niall so much that it burned in his chest, he felt that in that situation, it would have been a little crass - Niall was not in a good place that afternoon, and Harry didn’t want to exploit him in the state of mind that he had been in. He still didn’t know how Niall felt about boys romantically, and had remembered the panic that had consumed him on the roof that one night. He definitely didn’t want to screw this up, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something there, underneath it all. Something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
Harry unlocked his door, and kicked off his boots. His socks were sopping wet - the snow was starting to melt as temperatures rose above freezing, and the streets were covered in slightly muddy slosh that managed to sneak its way into even the best winter boots. He peeled off the socks and lay them on the radiator to dry.
He quickly pulled on a new pair, and put on his trainers - he assumed that he could make it across the courtyard in them without getting soaked. Grabbing the paper bag of ingredients, he flew down the stairs, to the other side of the courtyard and into the kitchen in the back of the dining hall, behind the counter.
“Hiya, Frank,” he called, knocking on the doorframe, “can I ask you for a little favour?”
The middle-aged man, who was busy with rolling meatballs, turned around to face Harry with a smile. “Hello, Harry. What can I do for you?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well, here’s the thing,” Harry started, “I need to do a spot of baking. I’m having, uh, some people over tonight, and I wanted to make biscuits,” he said, holding up the bag. “D’you think I could use your oven?”
Frank’s face fell a little. “Oh, Harry, I would absolutely love to help, but I’m afraid it’s already in use,” he said as he gestured to the oven in the corner. Indeed, it was in use, but Harry hadn’t noticed in his excitement.
Harry walked over, pouting at the trays of meatballs already occupying the rack inside, and glanced ruefully over at the three trays of raw meatballs, ready to go in next. “Oh,” he said disappointedly.
“I’m sorry Harry, I really am,” Frank assured him. “What about your friends upstairs? I gather that they hardly acknowledge their kitchen, judging from how often I see them down here. I’m sure that their kitchen is available, if they’re home?” he suggested.
Harry hadn’t even thought about that - Liam, Louis and Zayn lived right upstairs, and owned a fully-functional kitchen. “Thanks, Frank! I’ll try them then,” Harry said hopefully, “thanks for the idea!”
“Anytime, Harry,” Frank laughed at Harry’s enthusiasm. “Good luck with the biscuits!” he said as he turned back to the meatballs, but Harry was already out the door and on his way to the stairs.
Harry climbed the stairs two at a time, swiftly arriving at the boys’ front door. He gave it a solid knock, and hoped with everything that he had that at least one of them was home.
Just as Harry was about to give up hope after having knocked four times, he heard a muffled noise from behind the door.
“I’ll just be a second,” he heard Zayn shout.
“Don’t hurry, it’s me, Harry,” he called back.
Soon after, the door flew open and there stood Zayn. He looked like he had dressed hastily - his t-shirt was inside out, and he was wearing a pair of sweatpants that looked about two sizes too big for him. They were slipping down, and he had to hold them up on his small hips.
“What’s up Harry, what’s in the bag?” he asked quickly.
“Um, I need to use your kitchen? Can I? ” Harry enunciated, slowly, not even bothering to comment on Zayn’s haphazard attire.
“Right, um,” Zayn glanced behind him and shouted, “LIAM! Do you mind if Harry uses out kitchen? He’s got some sort of..project that he wants to do,” he said as he glanced down at the paper bag, raising an eyebrow.
“Baking, Zayn, I’m baking, and I promise I’ll clean everything up,” Harry clarified.
“Zayn, tell Harry that if he wants to cook meth to pay off his loans he’s gonna have to use the kitchen downstairs! I won’t support it!” he heard Liam shout from inside the apartment. Harry laughed.
“The one downstairs is occupied, Liam! Please?” Harry shouted back past Zayn.
“Come on then, in you come,” Zayn said as he stepped aside to let Harry in, hiking the sweatpants up. “Don’t mind Liam,” he mumbled, as he fixed his hair in the mirror hanging on the back of the door.
As Harry was unpacking his ingredients and Zayn reclined on the sofa, Liam strolled out of Zayn’s room, hair messy, wearing only a sleeveless top and boxers.
“Christ, Liam, we have guests,” Zayn complained. He was promptly shut up as Liam walked over to the sofa and leaned down to kiss him.
Oh, Harry thought. Ah.
“So, um, how long have you two been…uh…” Harry tried to ask, gesturing vaguely and losing his words. He busied himself with breaking the eggs into a bowl.
“It’s been a while now,” Liam looked up at Harry, smiling, “hasn’t it, Zayn?” Zayn crinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out at Liam, but planted a kiss on his cheek anyway as Liam threw himself down next to him, fingers combing his hair.
“Congratulations, you guys, that’s lovely,” Harry smiled, “but what about Louis? How’s he feeling about this?” he motioned at the two of them laying on the sofa.
“Oh, Louis is fine,” Zayn assured him, “it’s not like he doesn’t bring girls here too. We’ve talked it through, it’s all good.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Harry said earnestly.
They made conversation about this and that as Harry baked. He couldn’t help but feel slightly annoyed at the fact that he had to mix everything by hand - back at the bakery where he had worked in his hometown, they had an electric mixer that did all the work for you. Harry’s arm was aching as he mixed the thick dough. He fashioned the dough into large balls and flattened them slightly with the palm of his hand, before arranging them all on the oven tray and putting them in to bake. He set the timer for 20 minutes and took a seat on the counter.
“Harry,” Zayn asked, “what’s the occasion? Why are you baking?”
“Oh, um,” Harry hesitated. “I’m having some people over tonight,” he repeated his white lie from earlier, “and I wanted to bake something. That’s all,” he said, not making eye contact.
Liam raised an eyebrow. “Who are you having over?” Liam really was good as sussing out whenever Harry wasn’t being truthful. Annoyingly.
“Well… when I say people, I really mean just Niall,” Harry admitted.
Zayn snorted, elbowing Liam. “See, I told you! I told you!”
“Told him what? Zayn! Come on...” Harry whined as Liam and Zayn laughed and fist-bumped.
“That you two were together,” Liam finally managed, “we had a sort of bet going. I didn’t think it was anything other than friendship, but Zayn clearly had other ideas…”
Harry could feel a hot flush creeping up from under his t-shirt, up his neck to his cheeks. “Oh, we’re not,” he started, “we’re not together. Like that. Just friends,” he said, trying to seem cool about it. Had they noticed him acting differently?, he wondered, panicked, and more importantly, has Niall noticed? Does he know?
“Oh,” Zayn said, looking disappointed. “I just thought...I dunno, the way you two just seem to click, y’know?” he said, looking at Harry. “I just assumed...sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, like…” he finished, looking down at the floor.
“No, no, don’t worry about it, I…” Harry paused, and considered just telling them. Oh, to hell with it, I might as well get it off my chest. Share the love, he thought sourly.
“I, um. Alright,” he said, locking eyes with Zayn, “I need you to promise you won’t say anything. Or act weird. Or laugh. Promise?” he demanded. “You too, Liam.”
Liam and Zayn both nodded adamantly. Harry took a deep breath.
“Right. So I, um. I think I sort of like Niall. A lot. There, there I said it. I like Niall, I have a huge stupid crush on Niall,” Harry said nervously, looking everywhere except for Liam and Zayn. The blush had now made it all the way up, and his ears felt like they were on fire.
There was a moment of silence, which Zayn eventually broke. “So I was right,” he concluded quietly, looking quite pleased with himself. “Have you said anything? To Niall, I mean,” he asked Harry carefully.
“No. No I haven’t. I didn’t want to, you know,” Harry explained, “I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Or make things weird. I just want us to stay friends, you know? It doesn’t matter that much,” he finished.
“I see…” Zayn said thoughtfully.
“I totally get it Harry,” Liam quickly supplied, “friendship comes first, right? But you know, you might want to try hinting at him a little. Just a little!” he said defensively as Harry gave him a skeptical look, “just a little hint. Something, to make him ask some questions, right? That way, he can go ahead with it if he wants to, and you don’t have to make the ultimate call, you see?” he explained.
“That’s...not actually too bad, Liam, thanks,” Harry said, relieved. “I could try something… what is it exactly that you think I should do?” he asked them both.
Before either had time to reply, Harry had already had a brainwave.
“Oh! Oh, oh, oh, I’ve got it!” he whooped, running over to the oven. “I can make these biscuits heart-shaped, can’t I? D’you think that’d work as a hint, Liam?” he bubbled excitedly, grabbing for the oven mitts and opening the oven, the hot air hitting his face.
“Yeah, um - Harry, that’s a great idea love, but isn’t it a bit late for that?” said Zayn, getting up and moving over to the kitchen area just in case Harry did anything stupid in the heat of the moment.
“No, no look, I can still do it, they haven’t hardened ye - OUCH!” Harry yelped; the biscuits hadn’t hardened, he was right, but they were hot and Harry had attempted to go at them with his fingers.
“Careful, Harry! Christ…” Zayn muttered as he dug out a knife for him. “Here, try poking at them a little with this,” he said, passing the knife to Harry, who was holding his finger under a stream of running water from the tap.
“Thanks, Zayn,” Harry said fondly, turning the tap off and inspecting his finger. It was nothing serious, just two little pink marks on the tip of his index and middle fingers of his right hand. He gripped the knife and tried reshaping again, which turned out to be surprisingly easy. He pushed out two bits of the biscuit at the top, and pulled out the bottom part into a loose V-shape. After proudly looking over his work, he put the tray back in the oven and they were done in no time.
So they weren’t exactly heart-shaped once they came out, but Harry could definitely see the resemblance. They had spread out a little more than he had anticipated, and some had stuck together. Harry broke them apart carefully as he loaded them into a tupperware box that Liam had retrieved from one of the cupboards, and offered two of the ugliest individuals to Liam and Zayn.
“Thanks, mate, these are really beautiful, world-class baking,” Zayn laughed, “but at least they taste good; is that ginger?” he mumbled with his mouth full.
“Ginger and chocolate chip, yeah, it’s one of my favorites from back home,” Harry admitted.
“Taste great, man, Niall will luuurve them,” Liam said cheekily, giving him a friendly pat on the back. “Now, keep your promise and clean this,” he pointed at the counter, covered in a fine dusting of flour, “and then you can go,” he laughed as he brushed off the flour from the back of Harry’s jeans.
Harry cleaned up quickly, and thanked Liam and Zayn profusely before legging it back to his room. He left the biscuits there in the paper bag, and gathered his things in preparation to go ice skating. He could hardly wait for the evening to arrive.
~
“Close your papers, pens down please, your time is up.”
Niall played these words over and over in his head. It’s over, it’s all over, he thought with uncontrollable glee. He couldn’t quite believe it. What had seemed like an impossible mountain to climb two weeks ago was now just another molehill behind him. He had done it.
Everything was a blur until he got outside; the fresh air hit him and the sun shone, warming his face. Niall closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His heart felt light. He no longer had anything pressing his mind, anything to worry about.
Except for Harry.
Not that he exactly worried about Harry - it was just that recently, after doing some deep thinking, Niall had realised that he was a little bit in love with him. No big deal. Just a little bit in love. And he didn’t know how to go about anything now. He was afraid that he was manipulating Harry somehow, using him by not being truthful. But how could he be truthful when there was a very real risk of Harry not feeling the same way, which would inevitably bring this whole ship down? He knew that Harry liked boys - he had once mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend - but that didn’t mean that he felt like that about Niall. That he liked Niall in that way.
Niall had (wisely, in his opinion) committed to trying to muffle this feeling that he had, because he was convinced that it would lead him nowhere. He thought that he was pretty good at playing down his feelings anyway, and was almost one hundred percent sure that Harry didn’t suspect anything. After all, before anything else, Harry was one of his best friends. Niall wanted more than anything for it to stay that way.
Harry was coming over later today, to celebrate the end of exams and the beginning of a fresh new era. Niall’s main objective before he went out for bowling was to clear out his room a little - he could finally file away all his revision notes, and he picked up some pen pots from the stationary shop on his way home so that he could introduce some order to his cluttered desk.
He busied himself with cleaning for the next hour; he didn’t know what was up with him. He never cleaned his room when Harry came over - granted, Harry’s visits were usually impromptu and he simply didn’t have the time to. But tonight felt special somehow - it totally wasn’t, he knew, it was just a little party for two. But here he was, shoving every stray item of clothing into his wardrobe and arranging his books in a single tower that he hoped to God wouldn’t topple over.
Once he was satisfied, it was already past time for him to leave.
~
Harry got back to his room at just past nine o’clock, his jeans soaked through at the knees - he had taken a fall on the ice, and was desperate to change. He stripped off his jeans, and picked out an almost identical pair to wear instead. Niall was expecting him in half an hour, so he pulled his hair back into a bun and stepped into the shower, trying to let the hot water make his mind go blank.
After making sure to pull the curtains closed, he got dressed. He picked out one of his favorite shirts - a pink, short-sleeved button-up with white polka dots, and paired it with black jeans, ruffling his hair a little after pulling it out of the bun.
He was somewhat nervous about this evening, and he couldn’t quite say why. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was going to present Niall with heart-shaped biscuits for no apparent reason, other than to drop a subtle hint. He truly didn’t know how Niall was going to take this. If the hint fell flat, he reckoned that he could play it off as a joke, or say that they had just spread that way in the oven; the shape was ambiguous enough to allow that white lie to slide.
After reading a couple of pages of his book to kill time, Harry retrieved the paper bag containing the box of biscuits, the bottle of champagne, and paper cups. He didn’t bother with shoes; it was only one floor down, and he’d take them off as soon as he got to Niall’s room anyway.
He knocked on Niall’s door softly, holding the bag in the crook of his elbow and supporting the bottom just in case the bottle of champagne decided to tear a hole in it. Niall opened and his face cracked into a grin as soon as he saw Harry.
“Hiya, come on in, I’d hug you but your hands look a little full,” he gushed, and Harry stepped inside. Niall’s room was a lot tidier than usual, and Niall looked - Niall looked cute. His hair was a little tousled, and he had his glasses on. He was wearing a plain blue t-shirt that made his light blue eyes stand out even more than they usually did. The only light in the room was coming from the string fairy lights that had been rearranged around the window next to his bed, and they bathed Niall and the whole room in a cosy, orange glow not unlike the one that the streetlight had created, up on the roof. Harry could have kissed him there and then, but of course, he didn’t.
“I, uh, I brought champagne,” he said instead, digging out the bottle and the paper cups.
“Oh Harry, that’s great, thanks mate,” Niall said. “Love these cups,” he laughed as he held one up - they were dark blue, space-themed, with little moons, stars and rocket ships on them. Harry had specifically picked them over the champagne flutes made of thin plastic; he thought Niall might like them.
“Oh, yeah, I picked them out specially for you, thought you might like them,” he replied, shy all of a sudden.
“I really do love them,” Niall said sincerely. “They’re cute, thanks Harry. You really think of everything, huh?” Niall smiled.
Harry poured out champagne for the two of them, and they sat down on Niall’s bed, sipping the bubbles and talking about everything under the sun. It wasn’t until about two hours later that Harry remembered the biscuits.
“Oh! I, uh, I have something for you, actually,” Harry mumbled as he got up from the bed where they had been sat cross-legged and made his way over to the paper bag that he’d left by the door. He fished out the box and brought it over.
“I baked,” he said simply, opening the box and showing the contents to Niall. A sweet, rich smell erupted from inside.
“Oh Harry, they look great! Smell great, too,” Niall bubbled excitedly, reaching into the box for one and biting straight into it.
“They’re ginger and chocolate chip, we used to make them all the time when I worked in the bakery back home,” Harry explained as Niall munched.
He sat back down on the bed and placed the box between them. So far, Niall hadn’t said anything about the shape, and he was relieved. So far so good.
“These. Are. Amazing,” Niall confirmed, after his third consecutive biscuit, “thank you so much, Harry. It must have taken you ages…”
“No! No, really, it wasn’t any trouble, I just used the boys’ kitchen,” Harry motioned to the apartment opposite, “but the mixing was a nightmare. No electric mixer, had to use this wooden spoon that they had lying around, my arm is aching…” he complained, while Niall laughed as he reached for another.
“You poor bugger,” he laughed. “They’re an odd shape, though...” he remarked as he bit into the biscuit.
Harry’s heart stopped. This was it. This was the moment when it would all come out.
“Uh…” he hesitated. “Yeah, I, um, made them like that. They’re hearts,” he finally gulped, not daring to look at Niall, fixating instead on the bedspread, counting the little squares on it.
“Hearts?” Niall asked, with his mouth half-full. “Harry, why - oh,” he said, falling silent, chewing. “Oh,” he said again, slowly, after he had swallowed.
“Yeah,” Harry said, looking up now, feeling braver than before. Now or never. He wouldn’t wait for Niall to say anything; he had to spit it out.
“I didn’t really know how else to tell you. I, erm… I really like you, Niall. Like, not just as friends. I didn’t want to come off too strong, or put you off, or make you uncomfortable, or -”
“Harry…” Niall interrupted, gentle as ever. “You’re not. Making me uncomfortable, or scaring me off, nothing like that. I guess,” he hesitated and looked away, “I guess in that case, if that’s how you feel, I think that I also want to tell you something. I also kind of like you. No, not kind of. I like you, Harry. I like you a lot,” he said calmly, blushing a little on the tops of his cheeks. “Like, not just as a friend,“ he finished, finally glancing up and meeting Harry’s gaze.
Harry’s mind was well and truly blank, but the first thought that came back to him was Niall likes you back Niall likes you back Niall likes you back. Niall liked him back. He worked very hard for a moment, processing the thought and trying to formulate an action plan. Where to from here?
Harry smiled a huge grin, and looked away as he tried to contain his euphoria. Niall liked him back!
“Niall?” he asked quietly, shifting to face him.
“Yes, pet?”
“Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” Niall breathed, moving closer, “that would be great. Amazing, Harry.”
There was a short moment where they lingered, noses touching but lips ever so slightly apart, before they both nudged forwards a little more and suddenly, Harry was kissing Niall and Niall was kissing Harry and it was perfect. Harry took some time to process what was happening and forgot momentarily to properly kiss Niall back, but once it fully registered that he was kissing Niall right now in this moment, he responded.
They moved closer together, and fit so well; Harry’s hand resting softly on Niall’s cheek and Niall’s left hand on Harry’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck. The kiss was chaste at first, but then Niall licked the seam of Harry’s lips and Harry obligingly opened his mouth - Niall tasted like ginger and champagne, and Harry couldn’t get enough of it.
They ended up lying back on the bed, Harry leaning over Niall as they kissed tenderly, getting more heated by the minute as Harry shifted more and more of his weight over onto Niall. After what seemed like an eternity and a half, they broke apart, with their noses still touching.
“Hey,” Harry whispered.
“Hi,” Niall replied with a breathy laugh.
Niall craned his neck up to peck Harry lightly on the lips, and then lay back. Harry flopped down beside him - they had to both turn onto their sides to face each other to be able to fit onto Niall’s single bed.
After exchanging a few more kisses in this new position, Harry pulled away.
“Play me something?” he asked, glancing over at the guitar.
“Of course,” Niall said, getting up to retrieve the guitar. “What d’you want to hear?”
“Can you do ‘Fly Me To The Moon’? Sinatra?”, Harry asked, looking at Niall adoringly. He looked so beautiful, his cheeks pink, his lips slightly swollen, his hair sticking up in odd places.
“I don’t know it off the top of my head, but I can look up the chords, hold on,” Niall replied as he pulled out his phone and searched. “Got ‘em, they look pretty straightforward. I’m assuming you know the words?”
“Yeah, I do,” Harry said, “let’s go, then.”
Niall played, and Harry sang along softly. Harry did the bulk of the singing, but Niall whistled along as best he could.
Fly me to the moon
And let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like on
A-Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby, kiss me
Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you
At the last line, Harry looked up at Niall, only to see that Niall was already looking at him, looking as though he might cry.
“I love you, Niall,” Harry said. “I tried to tell you a while ago, up on that roof at Louis’ birthday party, but you didn’t hear, I don’t think.”
Niall’s face softened as he put the guitar down on the floor and leaned over to kiss Harry.
“I love you, too,” Niall muttered before leaning in again. “D’you want to stay here for the night? I mean, we don’t have to… you know...if you don’t want to…” Niall said hesitantly. “We can just cuddle.”
“I would love that,” Harry smiled against Niall’s lips.
They pulled off their jeans and shirts and curled up together underneath the duvet. Harry took a little longer to fall asleep, and he gazed at the sleeping Niall who looked so peaceful in the warm glow of the fairy lights. He couldn’t believe his luck. He planted a gentle kiss to Niall’s forehead, and assumed his place as the little spoon. Harry fell asleep soon after, secured underneath Niall’s arm as they breathed in sync.