Jacques - l.s

4: The Night Is Young

*4*

Harry clocks in at about twenty minutes from his time leaving the bookstore to his time opening the door to their dorm, taking the same winding road --one he believes he's never not been on-- back to their building.  He passed a few more peculiar shops and restaurants with some peculiar names on his way back and made a mental note to ask Niall about them, figuring Niall would know most of the answers, if not all, and ending up not just answering them but going further and giving him in-detail descriptions of the best restaurants this town has to offer, all information Harry is dying to know.  Of course it does all sort of scare him.  The faster he learns things, the less there is to learn, and one day he's going to wake up and realize he knows everything, leaving nothing but shameful ennui and predictability.  Unfortunately, Harry's not so good at pacing himself out.  Trigonometry, he can do.  Data analysis, he can do.  Tell you what the word 'nudiustertian' means, he can do.  Self pace however, seemingly impossible for the boy whose curiosity may one day kill the cat.

Upon his entry, Harry's head tilts at the unexpected scene.  Supposing he would open the door to their dorm and be met with nothing but an empty red room, brown leather couches with glass side tables staring back at him, it was much to Harry's surprise to find not one other boy, but two.  The already familiar blonde with brown roots Niall was standing in the kitchen, back to Harry and hands digging through their refrigerator that somehow seems more stocked with good than it did last night, while another boy, this one boasting a head of perfectly-swooped-back brown hair, sat at the island counter, arms drawing triangles as his elbows pressed into the granite counter, both unaware of Harry's presence and both sharing laughs at a conversation Harry didn't hear the beginning of.  As if on cue, Niall turns around with a bag of toast and a stick of butter, closing the fridge door behind him, and smiling wide as his eyes meet Harry's still pretty confused ones.

"Harry!" 

Elicited by Niall's jolly announcement, the other boy's head turned, bringing his body with and swirling on the spinny chair, and smiling too as he looked at Harry.

"Harry, this is Liam, my best mate.  Liam, this is Harry, our new best mate." Niall festively explained as he set down the toast and butter and walked over to where Harry was still standing at the door.  His hand made contact with Harry's forearm, grabbing him and pulling him to the kitchen to where Liam was waiting with a smile.

"Hey Harry, I'm Liam." He stuck his hand out to Harry, smiling with a gorgeous set of pearly white teeth.  Harry liked his vibe.  Jeez, is everyone this nice?

"Hi Liam, nice to meet you." Harry's shoulder relaxed as their hands gripped and shook with probably more manliness than Harry's experienced in a while.

"What time'd you get up, Harry?  I left around nine this morning.  Figured I'd let you sleep in, ya know, being jet-lagged and such, and that you could meet Liam later today, but when we got here, you were gone." Niall returns to his toast and he pulls out four pieces and sticks them in the oven, something that genuinely makes Harry's eyebrows furrow because who puts their toast in the oven?

"Uhh, I'm not sure.  Definitely more than an hour after you left, who the fuck gets up at nine in the morning?" Harry jokes, somehow feeling extremely comfortable in the presence of his dorm mate he met yesterday and a complete stranger he's only known the name of for about a minute.

"Someone who isn't jet lagged and doesn't think it's six hours before the time it actually is."

Harry nods, "Right, nine for you is three for me.  Fun." He rolls his eyes in a joking manner.

"Niall told me you're from Chicago, yeah?" Liam inputs, turning Harry's attention away from Niall who was currently grabbing peanut butter from their pantry, and when the heck did they have a walk-in pantry?