Never • Say • Never § a Niam Horayne collab fanfic [AU]

Chapter Nine - Compliments & Singing

(written by MrsNiallHoran :3)

-- Niall's POV --

This was insanity!

For once, I didn't feel like ripping his head off. I was actually sort of... At ease. I couldn't believe it. Me and Liam Payne, sworn enemies, getting along. I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't experiencing it right now.

I looked up from the papers and Liam's eyes were on me. But this time it wasn't a glare full of hate - it was just a normal look, like you'd give somebody that you didn't know. No emotion, really.

"So, uh..." I began, clearing my throat. "What the hell are we gonna write about? I got nothing."

"Of course you don't. You never pay attention in class." he replied, smirking. To my surprise, it wasn't an insult. It wasn't meant to hurt just to tease. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Exactly!"

Now we were both laughing. My God, this is weird. Whenever we laughed, it was at each other. This time, it was with each other. I didn't know what to make of it so I quickly glanced away, my laughter instantly dying down. Just get to work. Then you can finish this project and... Things will go back to normal.

I grabbed the pencil and tried to think of something to write down.

"You're left-handed?"

I nodded once without looking up.

"Oh. That's cool."

Now I had to. I looked up at Liam, searching for the usual sarcasm in his tone and contempt in his eyes. Neither was there. It was a... Compliment?! I was bewildered. "Um... Thanks."

Well, I don't like him but... Maybe I don't hate him as much as I thought.

Ten minutes later, instead of doing work, I was leaned against the lockers in the hallway, eyes closed, humming the tune to The A-Team by Ed Sheeran.

"White lips, pale face, breathing in snowflakes. Burnt lungs, sour taste." Liam sung under his breath. I was surprised so I opened my eyes. He was writing out something.

Oddly enough, I started singing quietly with him.

"Light's gone, day's end. Struggling to pay rent. Long nights, strange men." we sung together, too quietly to really be heard as more than a murmur. I watched him as we did and he didn't look up.

"And they say she's in the class A-Team, stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen but lately her face seems slowly sinking, wasting. Crumbling like pastries and they scream, the worst things in life come free to us. 'Cause we're just under the upperhand, go mad for a couple grams. She don't wanna go outside tonight. And in a pipe, she flies to the motherland or sells love to another man. It's too cold outside for angels to fly."

We stopped there. Somehow we both knew when to stop, and did at the exact same time. There was something else we had in common - we both liked Ed Sheeran.

Maybe this won't be so bad.