The Fangirl // Horan [temporarily on hold]

Chapter 22

I wake up before Niall. Somehow during the night we ended up practically on top of each other, and our arms and legs are tangled together. I have to try and extract myself without waking him up. It's uncomfortable, but I feel a small smile on my face.

Surprisingly I managed to get through the night without having a heart attack, or running away, or both. Niall seems surprised by this too, because when he eventually stretches and opens his eyes, he looks surprised to see me. "You stayed," he says, grinning sleepily. He rubs his eyes, and I'm struck by how beautiful he is in the morning. His hair is tousled and his eyes are still bleary with sleep. He still manages to look like an angel, however, whereas I look a bit like Hagrid from Harry Potter.

"Don't sound so surprised," I answer, snuggling down and pulling the black and grey comforter up to my ears, because it is fucking freezing in here.

"Well, I was hoping you would," Niall says, reaching out and rubbing his thumb along my cheekbone. I smile and cover his hand with mine. "But you can't blame me for worrying," he continues, though his eyes are on our intertwined hands.

"I suppose not," I sigh.

Suddenly there is a crash from outside the closed door, and both of us bolt upright with the shock. "That can't be Liam," Niall says. "He said he was leaving early anyway."

"It's probably one of the others," I say, lying back down and turning onto my stomach so my face is buried in the pillow. "Sleep more?" I mumble into it.

He laughs and rubs my back, but says, "No, come on, it's almost ten already."

"Already?" I repeat. "What sort of world do you live in where ten is late?"

When he doesn't reply, I turn back onto my side and look at him, confused. He has a slightly sad expression on his face, and his eyes are on me.

I suddenly understand. He's spend the last four years getting up before the sun, either on tour or recording. Of course he's not used to sleeping in. I take his hand.

"Hey," I say. "Sorry. I didn't realise."

"It's fine," he says, but he doesn't look certain. He stands up and smiles again. He leans down and tries to pull me up, but I groan heavily and flop back down.

"Come on, babe," he says, and I squint at the sound of the unfamiliar nickname. "Don't make me jump on you."

"You know I wouldn't mind if you did," I mumble, then cover my face with my hands. "Ugh, God. Sleep talking here. Ignore me, please."

He grins and pulls my hands away from my face, and grabs hold of them. He manages to haul me upright. "I'll carry you if you don't get up," he says.

At the thought of Niall trying to carry me, panic floods through me and I swing my legs out of bed. There's no way he could carry me, I'm too heavy.

I rub my arms up and down instead. "Do you mind if I borrow a sweater?" I ask, trying to change the subject. "It's freezing. Do you even have heating in here?"

"I don't," he informs me, throwing me a grey sweater. "I'm from Ireland, remember? I'm used to the cold." I pull the sweater over my head. I'm a good bit shorter than Niall but the sweater could barely be called baggy on me. It's stretched over my breasts  and too tight for comfort. I feel myself going bright red. How is it fair that my boyfriend is skinnier than me?

Niall must sense my embarrassment, for he sits down beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder. "It looks beautiful," he tells me. "You look beautiful. As always."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter anyway, shifting so that his hand falls off my shoulder. I am still embarrassed and he's not really helping by trying to be comforting. I stand up. "Ready?" I ask, not quite able to look at him.

"Y-yeah," he says quietly.

I open the bedroom door and the two of us exit the room, emerging into the living room. The sofa where Liam slept is empty, although there is a post-it note stuck to one of the cushions that says:

Thanks for letting me stay. Going home to England for a while, but will be back here soon. It's important. Thanks again. -L

"What's important?" I say aloud, scanning the note. Niall has already finished reading it and he's frowning.

"I don't know," he replies. "I'll call him now." He disappears into the bedroom again, leaving me by myself. There is suddenly a rush of voices from the kitchen. I hear Louis yelling, "Zayn, you dick!", and I dither, wondering whether I should go in or not. My silent debate is solved, however, when Louis rushes out from the kitchen, just in pyjama pants (although he has a streak of flour across his cheek), which makes me look away. He stops and grins when he sees me.

"Hi, Charlie," he says. "We're making breakfast." He nods towards the kitchen, then his smile falters a bit. "Or at least, we're attempting to."

"Ah," I say, nodding.

"Where's Ni?" he asks, looking around as if expecting to see Niall jumping out from behind one of the sofas, yelling suprise!

"He's calling Liam, I think," I say, gesturing towards the closed bedroom door.

"Well, if he gets through to him I'll be shocked," Louis says, suddenly sounding serious. "We've all tried. He's not picking up."

"I'm sure he's fine," I say, trying to reassure him.

"Yeah, he probably is." The smile reappears and he looks towards the kitchen. "Do you want to come in and help?" he asks suddenly.

"I, um, I," I say. "Sure?"

"Great," he grins. "Just be careful - it's a hazardous zone in there. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll try to come out alive," I answer, and we both go into the kitchen.

It's crazy. Harry and Zayn are both there (and both shirtless, may I add). It's clear they've been trying to make an elaborate breakfast but all they've succeeded in doing (from what I can see) is burning a lot of toast. There's flour all over the floor and spattered across the walls too.

"What were you doing?" I say before I can stop myself.

"We were going to make pancakes," says Harry, grinning and leaning against the counter. "But then we realised that none of us know how to make pancakes, and it sort of escalated from there."

"You don't know how to make pancakes?" I ask.

"Do you?" Harry says eagerly. 

I hesitate. "Well, no, but I thought you guys knew how to do, like, everything." It sounds so stupid that I cover my mouth with one hand. "Fuck, sorry," I mumble. "I'm making you guys sound like superheroes or something."

"Well, aren't we?" Zayn says, striking a stupid superhero pose. The awkwardness disappears and we all laugh.

"Look, it can't be that hard to make pancakes," I say, trying to steer the conversation back to the original topic. "Does Niall know how?"

"Does Niall know how to what?" I turn and see Niall himself standing there, holding his phone. He's got a small smile on his face.

"How to make pancakes," I say, carefully watching his expression. Did he get through to Liam?

"Of course I do." He says it like it's obvious. He comes over to stand beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. He kisses my cheek quickly, then gently steers me out of the way.

"Step back and watch how to make pancakes fit for fucking kings," he says. I smile at the back of his head at he adds, "You uncultured swines."

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a/n: yes it's short but eh