e i g h t | old demons and odd dates

507 37 40
                                    

 ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶   ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ 

NH

With a sigh, Niall walks up to Bloomsbury for his shift on Monday afternoon. He's been very nervous and jittery about work because he knows he's going to be seeing Harry, and Harry makes him nervous.

He's not used to being nervous, but he is.

No one has ever made him felt like this. Well, at least not in a long time, they haven't.

He hasn't been in an actual relationship since he was practically a child, and he's not even sure he wants one now; but, with how much he's been unable to stop thinking about Harry, it both exhilarates and worries him to know that he is worming his way in to Niall's thoughts.

The gentle bell rings as Niall pushes the door open to the coffee house, and the aroma of brewing coffee, tea, and baking pastries fill his nose. He takes a deep breath, immediately feeling a little better. He's always loved being a barista, ever since he was fourteen and started working.

Being in a cafe or a bakery or a coffee house has almost always been good to him, and today is no exception.

The rest of his Saturday was spent with Louis and Nick, and their insistent interrogations about his conversation with Harry, but he wouldn't reveal much. He wouldn't reveal to them how his heart both stopped and became erratic all at the same time once Harry appeared in front of him.

He wouldn't reveal how, every time Harry smiled at him, he felt like he could get lost in how his eyes glittered, as if he held little stars in his eyes.

He would not, under any circumstance, tell Nick and Louis that just the mere thought of Harry brought heat to his face and butterflies to his stomach. He wouldn't let them know any of it.

They weren't stupid, though. They could see how Niall's eyes would flit to the clock on the wall every four minutes, checking to see if class was any closer to being over. They could see how Niall's leg would start to bounce every few minutes, and his fingers would pick at each other as he waited to get out of the lecture. They saw how Niall was barely paying any attention to the lecture (which is very unlike him), and would chew on his finger nails anxiously.

They both knew he had work, but neither knew of the plans the two had made. All they knew was that Harry was planning to get some coffee - nothing more.

Niall, however, was trying to convince himself that it was nothing serious - that it was just two acquaintances meeting up for a casual coffee at the place of employment of one of them, but deep down he was looking forward to this far more than he ever thought he would.

Maybe more than he should, but he's trying to not think about that.

He walks into the back of the building, heading for his locker to put his stuff away and get ready for his shift. He pulls on his polo, fixes his trousers, and makes sure his shoes are tied before going to pull open the back down to take a breath of fresh air and clear his mind. He can't stop thinking about Harry.

And Liam.

And then Harry again.

As he gets opens the door, a few rays of sunshine flooding through the small opening, he gets hit with a wall of cigarette smoke. He sputters and shuts the door, heading back inside with his eyes shut tight, desperate to keep out the smoke and the flashbacks.

His mind immediately begins to run wild, terrible and vivid memories flooding into it.

A man's face.

A Touch of Cinnamon ✓Where stories live. Discover now