seasons of love | Narry Storan AU

chapter 10.

2015

Libraries, in general, have always been one of Niall's favorite places in the world. It's quiet, but not enough to cause agony inside his mind because of the damn silence. It's big, but you can always find comfort. And, of course, there are lots of books to be qualified as a man's best friend for a couple of days. 

He loves books ever since he figured out he could actually learn, from books, new words to use in future songs he could write, and it's always a pleasure for him to merge in a fictional world. It's fun. It's interesting. It's everything.

The New York University's big, big library couldn't suit better for Niall's intentions to sit down and find new words to use in a song. It's almost 5PM now and he's sitting at one of the large tables in there. Softly touching a copy of "Wuthering Heights", feeling the book's cover texture, trying to prepare himself mentally for that. It's also the first homework that his Lyrical Composition teacher, Mr. Fields, gave to his students: write a song based in a book.

It could be a hard task for him, if he wasn't a sucker for these things.

"Horan?" A low-pitched voice calls him out in the room. 

He looks up, after being startled by the then-unknown voice that called him. His eyes open widely in shock with a heavenly sight of Mr. Shawn Mendes dressed in a yellow button-down shirt, tight on the muscles of his body, black pants and plain white sneakers. Everyone who looks at Shawn right now would never tell he's actually a professor at NYU, because he looks like just another student in there.

For Niall, that's an interesting part of his personality — the ability of fitting everywhere and not adjusting to the rules is something else to the young Horan. Not that he's romantically interested in Shawn — for God's sake, he's the motherfucking teacher! —, but if he wasn't exactly who he is, Niall would probably feel weird emotions for him.

Realizing he has been just staring at his professor's eyes for more than ten seconds due to his inner thoughts, Niall clears his throat and lets out a smirk.

"Oh, hi, Mr. Mendes. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking. Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, I was about to start reading this." Niall shows Shawn the book on his hands.

"Wuthering Heights? Wow, it's a complex one. Good luck with that."

"I think I'll need it. Mr. Fields told us to write a song based on a book and I'm trying to learn new words, so..." The Irish lad shrugs.

"Don't worry about it. You look like someone who will survive this book." Shawn touches Niall's left shoulder, before leaving him alone to study.

And he swears to God, that gentle touch was something else, just like the man himself.

[...]

As soon as Niall opens the door to his bedroom, another weird sight comes in front of him. Harry Styles, completely dressed, tying the laces of his Converse sneakers, almost as if he was getting ready to hang out.

On a Tuesday.

"Going out?" The blond guy asks with a monotonous tone in his voice.

"Does it matter?" Harry says in a sudden, his eyes opening wide two seconds later. "Sorry. I'm still used to kick you out of my life."

"Are you allowing me to know you or something like that?"

"In your dreams, Horan", he rolls his eyes, "but I think you have another person to dream with, right?"

"What are you talking about, asshole?"

"Now we're back to the cursing. I love that", Harry is finally up from the bed, standing a few steps away from his roommate. "Saw you with Mr. Mendes at the library. He's into you."

"No, he's not." It's Niall's turn to sigh in disguise, pretending that he doesn't care about Harold's last words. "You see things where there's nothing, sometimes."

"No, I saw his eyes. He's into you, Horan."

"How can you be so fucking sure of that?" 

They stare at each other, eyes waging a battle to see who will blink first.

Niall loses the war, obviously.

"Trust me, I know when someone's infatued with somebody else, and he wants you." Harry shrugs, walking past Niall and going in the direction of the door. He turns around to say one last thing, however. "I don't think he wants you naked or something. He wants you as a whole. And, let's be honest, I'm so sorry for him to want someone like you. So sorry."

"What do you mean?"

Harry closes the door without giving a proper answer.