Something About You

Nineteen. April, 2016.

He gets back to London and throws himself straight into it—writing, playing, fixing everything. It's a little easier than he expected it to be, finding a life for himself here, fitting himself back into society. It turns out, Niall learns, that dropping off the face of the Earth for a few months doesn't actually erase your existence from the world, and your friends still want to see you when you get back.

He spends every day in the studio, head shoved into a notebook, fingers constantly picking at a guitar. When he's not writing he's on conference calls and email chains with various record labels, back and forth negotiations and mock-up contracts, lawyers and assistants and more business than he's ever done in his life. For the first time in as long as he can remember Niall feels like he knows exactly what he wants, and how to ask for it. Soon enough, he thinks, he'll have something to show for it, too.

When he's not writing or juggling record execs vying for his attention, Niall's reconnecting—or at least giving it a shot. He starts with Mully, knows he'll bend easiest. A meet-up for a pint to talk about his trip blossoms into weekly nights out, which blossoms into Emilia joining them once in a while. Mully's been spending time with Niall's mates in London while Niall's been away and they welcome him back without much fuss: Eoghan McDermott, Laura Whitmore, the lot. It's all easier than Niall expected, even if there's one painfully gaping hole right in the middle of it.

On a Friday night near the end of April Mully calls him, fifteen minutes before they're meant to meet down the pub for a few pints. Half dressed, Niall sandwiches his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he works on fixing his hair in the mirror.

'Alright, Mullz?'

'Change of plans,' says Mully. 'Mia just called me. The whole LIC is going to The Hereford Arms tonight, you wanna join?'

'Sure,' Niall shrugs, though he's never heard of the place. 'Laura, Eoghan, the whole lot?'

'Yeah,' Mully slows down a little bit and Niall can imagine him on the other end of the phone in the flat he shares with Emilia, the face he pulls when he's starting to get nervous. 'The, uh, the whole LIC, Nialler.'

It computes in Niall's brain like an electric shock, like a jolt of some indeterminable emotion through his nervendings. He can't tell if he's excited or terrified when he says, choosing his words carefully, 'Got it. And, erm, does the whole LIC include anyone... Scottish?'

'Huh?' Mully sounds genuinely confused and Niall almost laughs. He'd tried so hard to be delicate.

'Jack,' he says, deciding to say fuck all to pretense. Mully is his best mate, he should be able to ask him out right. 'Will Isla be bringing Jack?'

'Oh, Jesus, no. They broke up, mate.'

'They what?' Now it's excitement, for sure, vibrating in his fingertips. He can't even bring himself to care about how cruel it is to be happy that someone you love is going through a breakup. 'When?'

'Ages ago,' Mully sounds casual, like this is something Niall should've known. But Niall hadn't asked—half because he was afraid of the answer and half, he thinks, because he didn't want it to get back to Isla that he was asking about her. The thought of it makes him feel a bit queasy. 'But, uh, Bressie will be there.'

'Okay?' Niall's clearly missing so much information that it makes him feel like he's on another planet. 'It'll be sick to see him. It's mad that we're both in London and I haven't.'

'Right, okay,' Mully sounds resigned. 'It's in South Kensington. See you there in half an hour?'

--

The pub is pretty packed, doors and windows propped open to welcome in the spring warmth, a gaggle of people spilling out onto the sidewalk with pints and cigarettes and loud, boisterous laughs. Paddy cap pulled down snug over his forehead, Niall's sure no one will recognize him here, so he lets himself in without too much hesitation, eyes scanning the crowded room for his friends.