Complicity [h.s]

39

surprise!

Liam Payne

I'm usually the first one awake every morning. Naturally, I've been an early riser since birth. No matter how trashed I got the night before, I'll always be up before nine. It's a curse, really. All of my roommates sleep pretty late. The good thing about fugitive life is you get a lot of quiet living inside a basement apartment. I like the quiet. So, being an early riser is a benefit I have over the rest. I get a good few hours of space. I have my beer, play with my gadgets, and make some toast.

I never thought I would wake up to someone else clattering in the kitchen.

Rising from my bed in the pitch-black room, I turn to the red clock showing me the time.

8:37 AM

"What the hell is that?" I hear Niall groan from Louis' bed on the other side of the room.

"Who's up right now?" I rub my eyes and look at the crack of light under the bedroom door.

"I smell bacon."

I slowly get up from the bed, hearing Niall do the same.

"I smell it, too."

I open up the door to the brightly lit common area, both of us squinting our eyes. The smell amplifies with the sound of sizzling. The kitchen directly across from us is being used to its full potential. Three pans on the burners, fans whirling, oven slightly smoking. And within all this is Harry with this back to us, only knowing it's him from the height. He moves quickly back and forth from the elements, bopping his head a bit.

"What is going on?" Niall says next to me, rubbing his eyes.

"Is he cooking...breakfast?"

"It looks like it..."

"Styles?" I speak.

He doesn't turn back.

"Styles!" Niall says louder.

He still doesn't turn back.

"That's him, right?" I clarify.

We walk across the living room, reaching the small kitchen where he turns to the fridge. Once turned, we see it's him, but he has headphones in his ears beneath the hood of his sweater. He catches us standing there, smiling and grabbing the margarine from the fridge.

"Morning!" He shouts over the music in his ears.

"What are you doing?" I ask, looking around.

"What!" He shouts while turning to the stove.

"What are you doing?" I repeat.

"It's 8:30!"

"No—" I get frustrated. "What are you doing!"

"Can't hear you!" He points at his headphones. "Music!"

"For god's sake!" I rip out the left earbud; it dangles. "What are you doing!"

"Take a wild guess." He gestures to all the sizzling food. "It's breakfast."

"I see that it's breakfast. But why?"

"Because we've never had breakfast together since living here," he shrugs and turns back to the bacon. There's so much here: bacon, eggs, pancakes, toast, fruit. We did not have these ingredients yesterday.

"Where did you get all this?"

"The store?"

"With what money?"