princess suit + adidas jumper.

one.

Old band posters that were rolling at the corners made up most of Harry's university dorm wall. He didn't even listen to half of them but he liked the way they looked all faded and old against the otherwise plain white drywall. Plain things didn't sit well with him. He liked things to be full of life and character. A room with plain walls and a bare mattress wasn't his style. But his roommate was quite the opposite. Big blue eyes that seemed to hold the entire world's worth of happiness in their eyes. He was Irish and Harry wondered why the hell he came all the way to Manchester but it's not that he was complaining. Because, well, Niall was quite the charmer and Harry realized that was something he needed in order to survive uni.

But. Niall had a tendency to inhale food rather than eat it like the normal average person. As a result, Harry found himself going outside for groceries more often than he intended to. His roommate was of average height and his legs were perplexingly skinny so Harry was baffled as to where exactly the food went. But he loved cooking for the both of them nonetheless so he supposed it was a win-win. Mostly.

"Harry," Niall called from their shared bathroom. His voice was tinny from the tiled acoustics a bathroom usually possesses.

"Yeah," Harry called back. He was in the middle of studying for a daunting test in his modern arts class (honestly, who puts a test three weeks into the semester) and his hair was a disheveled mess from running his fingers through it frantically. He just couldn't understand the purpose of the abstract. What the fuck was he supposed to do if an artist decided to make a sculpture of a head that looked more like his mother's horrid attempts at making Christmas pudding?

"Harry!" the boy sounded a little more distressed now and Harry snapped himself out of his rapidly growing frustration.

"Yes, yes," Harry muttered under his breath as he got up from his bed and ran the three steps it took to get to their bathroom. "Yes, Niall, what exactly do you want?"

A sheepish looking Niall peeked through a slight crack in the door. "A towel would do I reckon."

Harry stared at him. "You're in your first year of uni, for Christ's sake Niall!"

Niall flushed a terrible red that made his damp blond hair look almost platinum. "Sorry Haz."

Harry crossed his arms and tapped his foot like his mother would if he were in this position. "Right."

Niall winced. "Won't happen again, swear on me mother."

Harry wrinkled his nose as he went to go fetch Niall's towel. "Don't do that."

"Thanks, Haz," Niall smiled warmly and winked before shutting the door.

Harry shook his head. He was endeared and they both knew that. God help him if he didn't have Niall in his life. Whoever decided to put them two together was some sort of messiah because Harry couldn't have asked for a better match. He was hopelessly grateful.

"You'll be glad to hear there's another party down over at Calum's flat. Nice bloke," Niall came walking out in a pair of white briefs and his head buried in a towel. Harry winced sharply as the lad stumbled over a pile of Harry's miscellaneous books and clothes and landed arse up on the ground.

"Fuck," a muffled Irish voice sounded from amid the books and abundant pairs of black ripped jeans. Harry let out a soft giggle as he got up from the bed and held his arm out to a rumpled looking, half-naked Niall.

"I hate you," he grumbled, taking Harry's hand and giving it a sharp tug that nearly knocked him off balance before standing up laboriously.

"You too, mate," Harry grinned cheekily, dimples on full display and eyes sparkling with mischief. Niall scoffed and muttered something under his breath (probably a colorful string of 'fuck's and 'shit's and a particularly emphasized 'twat' directed at Harry).