If Soulmates Were Real (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter 9

The only thing Harry finds acceptable about waking at five in the morning is his love-hate relationship with exercise: on one hand, running de-stresses and puts his mind somewhat at ease, on the other hand...physical activity.

Earlier events run rampant in his head as he rounds the corner of the stylistic and modern apartment building. He shakes his head at the remembrance of Louis' lips around his—. 'No, stop!', he thinks.

His cheeks warm—even more than they previously had from his jogging—just at the mere thought of Louis.

Every step feels light as he presses off the balls of his feet, lifting him into the air while having Fleetwood Mac The Chain streaming through his posh AirPods Niall insisted he buy. He'll admit, after years of cords bundled every which way, they are quite convenient.

Turning up his music, he sprints for the last two minutes before taking a quick five-minute cool down. He treads up the stairs with tired, jello-y limbs and slips the AirPods out of his ear, tucking them back into their case.

He works through his usual routine—drink water, shower, food, twitter, a little more food—before whipping up an easy five-ingredient pancake recipe for his roommates.

After adding the baking powder, flour, bananas, and vanilla, he yelps as Niall sneaks up behind him and pinches the small dips on his hips, making him drop a whole egg right in the middle of the batter.

"Niall!" Harry curses, only causing Niall to obnoxiously cackle even louder.

"Morning, bub!" Niall happily chirps, moving to the fridge and digging around, ultimately just choosing a pre-made banana-apple smoothie. He uncaps the bottle and takes a sip before leaning his body, hovering over the sizzling frying pan. "Looks good." He casually praises.

"Go sit." Harry orders, flipping his second pancake. "They'll be done soon."

"Ooh!Ooh!Ooh!" Niall jumps up and down with his hands urgently pressing Harry's shoulders. "I have to tell you something!"

"Christ. Chill for a minute, will you?"

"No, no, no! I met someone!" Niall shimmies his waist side to side as a cheery expression overwhelms his presence.

Harry chuckles and pours enough batter for another pancake and then hands the filled plate to Niall. "Go on, tell me then."

Unwillingly, Niall's cheeks tint a crimson shade as he walks away to the opposite countertop. "Well," He starts, dumping too much syrup on the fluffy pile, making it slop over. "Their name is Quinn, and I think I'm in love." He confesses with a sigh.

Harry whips around—almost splattering batter everywhere—and his eyes widen with sudden curiosity and surprise. In all of the time since Niall came out as pan a couple of years ago, he hasn't once shown the least bit of interest in someone. To say Harry is shocked would be an understatement.

"What did you just say?" Harry interrupts Liam's talking by holding up a hand, signaling him to shut up.

Niall groans and rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. "I said I met someone, name is Quinn. I may or may not be in love. Simple enough for ya?"

Liam and Harry both stare dumbfounded at the blond boy, jaws dropped and movements halted.

Niall pauses from his next bite, fork still in the air midway to his mouth, and then he drops the utensil onto his plate, causing the metal to land with a 'clink.'

"For fucks sake. Can ya stop lookin' at me like I just shat in my pants?" Niall hostiley requests before immediately returning to his belly's demand for food.