𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕠𝕪 // 𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪

𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗

Niall sighed in relief as the weight of his various textbooks was lifted from his shoulders, setting his backpack down on a bench before taking a seat beside it. He surveyed the school's canteen, instantly feeling better when he noticed he was one of the only seven people there. He noted that it was strange so little of his peers were present, though it was only seven in the morning, meaning school didn't officially start for almost two hours, so he figured it wasn't too out of the ordinary.

Personally, Niall felt more of them should've been here to attend the morning tutorials some teachers offered because, to be completely honest, they sure needed it. Badly.

He pulled out his phone, planning to kill time on FIFA or one of those stupid cooking games, but his eyes caught on a familiar figure hunched over a table across the canteen.

Harry?

That couldn't be right, Harry never arrived at school this early (no, Niall did not want to explain how and why he knew his schedule), but those messy curls and tattooed biceps definitely belonged to him. Niall desperately wanted to know why he was here in the first place—knowing Harry was usually the last person to enter first period before the tardy bell—and also why he looked so damn exhausted. Niall would usually be the first person to gripe about how tiring school was, but he was sure it didn't take that much out of a person, right?

Unfortunately for him, he was so lost in his internal monologue that he'd zoned out looking straight at the man of his constant attention, and he felt his cheeks colour in embarrassment when he noticed piercing green eyes staring back at him. He quickly glanced away, praying to God that Harry didn't think him to be some sort of creep. Mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr was what he occupied himself with, liking a few scenic photographs and reblogging some posts that seemed to come straight from his overactive brain and onto his screen.

He was just about to screenshot an adorable litter of puppies to send to his mum until someone cleared their throat.

"Hi."

He glanced toward the voice uninterestedly before he realised who exactly that voice belonged to. Sitting up hastily, he shoved his phone aside and managed to sputter out a startled "uh, h-h-hello", and he really, really wished he could have outgrown that godawful stutter.

The boy just smiled at him, forcing Niall's gaze to his ever-present dimples and cherry-red lips (practically against his will), and held a large hand out toward him that Niall had definitely thought about one time too many. "'M Harry."

"I know," Niall mumbled quietly, not quiet enough though, because the boy raised an eyebrow at him, his smile shifting to a curious smirk. Niall could imagine he must've looked like a tomato as he lifted his jittery hand to Harry's for a kind handshake. God, he had nice hands. "I'm N-Niall."

"Hello, Niall," he grinned widely before gesturing toward the seat in front of Niall. "This seat taken?"

"Uh." It took him a moment to understand Harry was asking him a question. Harry Styles was asking him a question. "Oh, no! No, 'course not, it's all yours. If you want. To sit there, I mean."

His skin burned all the way down from his ears to his neck when Harry laughed goodnaturedly, setting himself down on the canteen-table bench which was evidently too small for both Niall's bony knees and Harry's long legs.

"So. Irish, huh?"

"So. English, huh?" Niall shot back to him, a mocking half-smile on his face.

Those killer dimples were showing again. "Touché."

"So..." Harry started, drawing out the word as he fiddled with the endearingly excessive amount of bracelets decorating his wrists. "I've, erm, been meaning to talk to you for a while, but it seems I've never been able to find the proper time. Reckon now would be good though, innit?"