Falling In Manchester

Chapter One - Harry

So... this is a little thing I am gonna work on. I have for some time wanted to write a fic that's just a comforting read. No drama. Just two boys falling in love. It's gonna be kinda slow-burn. Full of awkward as well as sweet moments. I hope you'll enjoy.

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"Niall, what order do you want?" Harry impatiently asked into the phone where he squeezed it between his shoulder and ear. His fingers were fumbling through his wallet for cash he could give the barista once it was his turn to order. Which was only two people away. The line moved forward. Only one now.

"Eh, I'm not sure," Niall groaned down the line. "Anything that helps with a hungover."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You always complain when I choose something for you, Nigel."

"I won't this time."

"That's what you said all the other times," Harry said, "and here we are."

The person in front of him moved out of line, and Harry inwardly cursed. "Bye, Horan, I want no complaints." He quickly removed his phone and hung up. The barista was looking expectantly at him. "Um, I would like a coffee, just black, please. And..." He sighed. "Do you happen to have any drinks that help hangovers?"

"Don't drink, mate," the man said. "I know nothing of that, sorry."

Harry sighed. Great. "Then just two black coffees, thank you."

Two prods on his shoulder startled him and made him turn around. His eyes landed on the man who had prodded his shoulder, and his jaw almost hit the floor.

The man was shorter than him, curvy. His hair fell in a fringe over his forehead, and he had dazzling blue eyes. He was wearing a soft-looking blue sweater and jeans that hugged his legs tightly.

He was possibly the most gorgeous man Harry had ever laid eyes on.

"Sorry," the man said. His voice was raspy. "But I couldn't help but overhear. I find it that Iced Golden Ginger Drink often helps with hangovers."

"Oh." Harry couldn't find any other words. Finally, after a few awkward seconds, he cleared his throat. "I—Thank you." He turned to the barista. "That and one coffee, then, please."

The barista looked slightly annoyed but nodded nonetheless. "Under what name?"

"Harry Styles," Harry said.

"Right. Coming up."

Harry turned back to the man behind him. "Again, thank you."

The man shrugged. "No problem, mate." His eyes fell to Harry's chest where the University's badge was fastened on his front chest pocket. A smile formed on his lips. "Do you also attend the University of Arts?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Started last month."

"That's nice, can't believe I haven't seen you around," the man said. He was smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It's not that big after all."

It was true. The University had been founded four years prior, having focus on artistic degrees. It offered plenty of opportunities for people who wanted to be actors, painters, and much more. In Harry's case, it offered him the opportunity to pursue his dream of writing. He was getting an English degree, and in addition to that, he had an 'Author Class' that later on could benefit him with publishers.

Harry shook his head, wetting his lips. He didn't seem able to draw his gaze away from the man before him. "No, it's not."

"What's your degree?" the man asked.