As blue as any sky could get, the blanket of clouds shrouded the entire horizon with their misty expanse from early morning to late afternoon in Ireland. Spring had made its appearance there, too, with its shy leaves getting richer in color and their flowers already unfurling its peach-like petals.
It was very windy most days, so when Niall would be out in town buying groceries, he'd dig his hands a little deeper in his jacket pockets and tuck his head a little further in his warm collar.
He'd normally be left alone to his thoughts, but the occasional gust of wind that was strong enough to make it rain blossoms onto the bare streets distracted him from time to time. The pink flowers and older leaves all scattered the paved road and danced around Niall's feet in cheerful merriment. Though it was difficult to think of anything else besides how nice it would be if Harry was with him to see it.
All he thought about was Harry, to be honest, and Niall found himself feeling rather lonely more days than not.
The first week had been all right, however, because seeing his mother was something he had wanted to do since he had left to go to university. He spent a lot of time with his older brother, Greg, and even his dad, Bobby, by helping around the house during the week and being able to go out to a pub by the end of it.
They didn't have much to talk about, because they never really asked anything Niall would want to share. And so, for the majority of his time with them, he'd sit back with a beer in his hand and tuned out everything they said unless it involved his name.
Even the first dinner they had together, the afternoon that Niall had arrived, his mother had tried to get him to share lengthy stories about his adventures in London after graduation, but he didn't really say much. It bugged him that he wouldn't; it bothered him that he couldn't even if he tried.
"Did you get a job?" She asked as she took a bite of her steamed fish.
Niall waited a moment and sipped his water before he answered, "Yeah."
"Well, tell us about it then!" She replied eagerly, which contrasted his tired voice dramatically.
"I'm an assistant," he cleared his throat, "at Styles Industries, you know?"
"Oh isn't that the company run by that young boy?" She wondered, "Don't even know how he does it, the poor thing; still a baby and is already doing that."
Niall chuckled admiringly, "He's very good at what he does, Mam."
She smiled alongside Greg and Bobby at the table, "Well, I'm proud of you. Sounds like a great job."
Niall hummed quietly and tried to change the subject, "So how's the shop going?"
"Wonderfully," she said, "thank God it's spring. It's lovely seeing the flowers soaking up the sun."
"Brilliant then," Niall smiled after he took another sip of his drink.
Ever since Niall was five years old, his mother owned her own flower shop in the niche between two older buildings in the market in town; one being a post office, the other being a book store. So Niall spent his entire summers during primary school helping his mother out in the shop and in doing so, had learned the names of every flower.
And when he wasn't in the shop selling bouquets to a harried young gentleman before a date or a single daisy to one of the cute girls from school, he ventured into the book stoor next door. There, he realized, he loved books.
Literature. Poetry. Art. He learned it there. Now, nearly twenty years old, he can't help but smile every time he passes it on his way back home from shopping, thinking about all the years he'd spent secretly reading the books in the back corner without paying.
