screaming color // n.h. au

part 12

cole arrives back at uni in the new year with a galaxy of anxiety swirling in her stomach. things are normal and the same with niall: they do their coursework sitting side by side on his bed, and niall reads poetry out loud when it gets late and cole pushes her book aside, her eyes beginning to droop. the cold weather and the lack of sunlight make her sleepier than usual. at least that's what she tells herself as explanation for her new habit of falling asleep in niall's bed while they're studying.

and things are also different with niall, in small ways that sneak up on cole and bite her on the nose like sharp, cold wind when she's half awake in the morning. niall touches her more, an arm around her shoulder, a hand on her back, and, though she thinks she might've imagined it, a kiss to her forehead when she leaves his room one night, half-asleep and slightly delirious from so much reading.

their new routine is different because they no longer share a class, but cole sees niall more than she used to. they eat all their meals together, study at the same table in the library, and spend their free hours watching films in niall's room, burrowed deep in the pile of pillows on his bed. cole's exhausted most of the time from her course load and the weather and, though she's hard pressed to admit it, the late nights she spends looking foggy-eyed at niall, too afraid to blink in case he disappears. he's bound, she thinks, to grow tired of her, of her too-loud laugh and the freckles on the bridge of her nose that keep her from a flawless complexion and her tendency to say "um" four times in a sentence that only contains ten words.

cole fears, though she wouldn't tell you if you asked, the day that niall moves on from her and she must, as a result, force herself to move on from him. it will be an agonizing process, like pulling herself up out of the strongest quicksand with only her arms.

on february 1st, it snows, wet and white and enough to prompt the university to cancel morning classes. cole and niall bundle themselves up in layers of scarves and sweaters and trudge through the cold to the dining hall. the employees have put up the valentine's day decorations seemingly overnight, and it's zayn who brings them up.

"i pity the bastard who's alone on valentine's day," zayn says. he sits beside april, their chairs so close together they might as well be sharing one. cole's not sure when that happened, zayn and april, but it did, and now cole can't escape it. they're always together, zayn and april, and the worst of it is that they're sickeningly happy, always laughing at a joke only the two of them understand and looking at each other with heart-shaped eyes.

april tells cole whenever she asks, and often when she doesn't, that it's nothing serious. "i'm just having a bit of fun," april says frequently enough that cole begins to pretend to believe her.

at zayn's words, april looks pointedly at cole, who sits beside niall on the other side of the table. cole leans back in her chair, ignores the flip of her stomach, and pretends she didn't see. she as the courtesy to believe april's lies about zayn, so april, cole feels, should believe hers about niall.

"whatever you say, mate," niall says with a lighthearted shrug. "not much for valentine's day meself."

"nah, that's no fun," zayn says, raising an eyebrow. "you should pull a girl just for february, niall. let loose a little bit."

cole shifts uncomfortably in her seat and niall puts a hand on her thigh, his palm warm and comforting through her jeans. sometimes it feels like she and niall are keeping a secret from everyone – though they are keeping it from themselves, too.

"i'm quite happy the way things are, thanks," niall says in a tone that cole knows well enough to mean back off. zayn shrugs and turns back to april, and cole relaxes a little bit in her seat. niall's hand climbs off of her thigh and onto the edge of the seat of her chair.