Harry was quite irritated at his house. Yes , of course it was a nice house, and yes it was in a neighborhood with families and old couples, and YES it indeed was a little too much for him; but the air conditioning had been out for nearly a week. And in the middle of a hot July, that wasn't the ideal situation he wanted to be in. Harry was sweating so much he hadn't bothered to wear clothes for the past few days.
He rolled off his couch, pushing open the window but quickly shutting it when he realized the heat outside wasn't much better. He retreated to his kitchen for a glass of water, glancing up at his window absentmindedly. Now, the kitchen was Harry's favorite room out of the entire house, save the bedroom, and not because he had a fetish for food. It was smooth and sleek, with tile floor and marble counters, and his favorite thing – a glass window that filled nearly the entire wall. It let him look out into his neighbor's yard, and as he was looking through his glass wall, he saw the blue eyed boy looking back at him.
Harry had spent many restless nights watching that boy from his windowsill – though he claims he is not a stalker, nor ever will be – and knows everything about him save his name. He knows he plays soccer from the way he incessantly bounces the ball around in his backyard (almost always shirtless, which made Harry's heart clench in on itself). He knows that the boy loved to laugh, cause he always heard him giggling more than 27 times a day – of course he counted, how could he not? And then, of course, he knows that the boy has a seemingly large, tattooed boyfriend that Harry figured was a murderer, but knew better than to jump to conclusions. And it's not like Harry was gay, things were just complicated. Though he enjoyed kissing boys much more than girls.
As Harry locked eyes with the boy, his breath caught, his heart skipped a beat, and his glass slipped from his hand and spilled water across the floor. The boy lifted his hand in a small wave, smile cocked at the side, blond hair ruffled lightly over his forehead. Harry steps forward a bit, raising his hand to wave back, but of course his foot gets caught in the midst of the puddle. He topples backwards, landing hard on the cool tile, laying there for a brief moment and wondering why the hell he hadn't thought about laying here earlier when he realizes that oh fuck, he had just fallen in front of the boy. He sits upright, not even realizing that the same boy is there standing above him, but certainly feeling him when their foreheads collide. They both groan, and Harry places a hand over his forehead, glancing up at the boy with pink cheeks.
“Fuck, are you alright?” Harry asks, cheeks burning. The boy nods, sitting on the floor across from him.
“I'll be fine, head just hurts a bit. What about you? You're the one who fell.” he chuckles lightly, and Harry's stomach unclenches.
“Spilt my water and didn't even notice the puddle. It's alright though. Helped me discover where I'll be spending the next few days.” Harry says, patting the tiled floor.
“Why the floor?”
“Air conditioning is broken, and I much prefer cold tile over the heat of my house.”
“Ah, right. Anyways, sorry for busting in like I did. The door was unlocked and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” The boy blushes lightly, scratching the back of his neck. Harry smiles small, shaking his head.
“I'm glad you decided to check on me.” I'm glad you decided to check on me? What a daft thing to say, Harry thinks, cursing himself and flicking his eyes to the boy's to see if he agrees. He's smiling, still blushing, so Harry lets out a little breath, running a hand through his hair.
“Least I could do. I'm Niall, by the way. You're Harry right?”
Harry furrows his brows “How'd you know?”
