little do you know // niall horan au

chapter 8; just kids

The seasons were transitioning into the blustery beginnings of winter, the sun dripping down the horizon earlier than usual. The fact that darkness fell over New York City around 5pm was enough to get Mona pouting more than she normally would. Less sunshine meant less warmth, and if anyone knew Mona, they knew that she hated the cold.

"Darlin'," Niall—Mona's own personal sunshine—groaned from beside her. His glasses were perched low on his nose, hair sticking up in a hundred different directions as he gave her one of his exasperated looks. "How many times do I have to tell you not to fuckin' eat on my bed?"

Mona frowned. She was cold and hungry and all she wanted was to cuddle with Niall but he was too busy studying to pay any attention to her. "Sorry," she said, popping another French fry in her mouth just to mess with him. She wasn't too sure when she'd become so needy for any bit of attention he'd give her, and she was relatively certain that Niall was beginning to notice her clingy side rearing its head over the past few days, but, honestly, who could blame her. It was cold, and she wanted a cuddle.

"Darlin'," he repeated with a sigh, not even looking at her this time. Mona, for one, thought it was actually pretty incredible that he wasn't getting all riled up yet. Usually, the tiniest things would bother him—they all learned to stay away from him when his temper rose, but Harry and Zayn were usually the most freaked when Niall was angry since they've seen the brunt of it at one point in their lives—but just then, there was no annoyed red flush crawling up the thick column of his neck. Instead, he looked a bit tired, eyes red-rimmed and dulled as he tried so hard to focus on the words that were screaming at him in bright green ink in his notebook. His hair was soft and unstyled, fringe drooping over his forehead and framing his face in the most boyish way. Mona may have wanted a cuddle, but she might've wanted to take care of Niall more. "I'm trying t'study and you're distracting me."

Mona shook her head. Without a second thought, she snatched the highlighter from his fingers and threw it to the far side of the bed, ignoring his indignant yelp in favor of prying his books from his grip as well, tossing them to where the highlighter lay. "You're taking a break!" A bubbly giggle fell from her lips as she tugged him into the sheets with her.

Niall started to protest but Mona had already thrown the sheets over their heads, tucking her cold feet between the warmth of his thighs as she fitted the blanket under both of their chins. Niall was giving her a look but she could see that he wanted to laugh, the corners of his lips curving upwards the slightest bit. "You're mad," he grunted when Mona slipped the glasses from his face, placing them on the nightstand behind him before nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder.

"You're so warm," she murmured, pulling the sheets closer to their bodies and draping her arm over Niall's middle to sneak her cold hands under the warmth radiating beneath his jumper. She was fully expecting him to complain, or even flinch from the shock, but instead, he pulled her even closer, and Mona couldn't help but smile into his skin. "And I'm so cold."

Niall hummed, the sound reverberating lowly from his throat, and Mona could feel him relaxing against her body. "You're still crazy," he teased, voice groggy and breathy, and Mona suddenly felt bad for him because he was so tired, the exhaustion hanging heavy in his bones, and she could still feel the way his muscles wanted to tense up. But his mind wasn't buzzing with frantic thoughts anymore, that she knew, because his heartbeat was steady in his chest, the rhythm a cadenced thrum that resonated within her own bones, and she could feel their bodies syncing up with their proximity.

Mona allowed her eyes to flutter shut against the steady beat of Niall's heart, branding to memory the feel of his fingers twirling shapes into the skin that was left exposed by her t-shirt—his shirt that she'd stolen a few days ago—that had ridden up in her quest to get comfy. Niall was humming something under his breath that Mona found vaguely familiar but she didn't think too much of it, instead curling closer into the perpetual warmth he always radiated and trying to put a finger on what exactly he smelled like. Most of the time, he simply smelled like clean laundry, the scent of fresh cotton and lavender always registering in her mind. But there was something else there too, something that was distinctly Niall, and Mona couldn't quite catch what exactly it was.