little do you know: the december drabbles // niall horan au

day 17: new holiday traditions (in which a bittersweet pact is made)

The cabin was oddly quiet, especially for a Christmas afternoon.

Considering it was their last night, Mona thought Harlow would've gathered them all together and popped open a bottle of wine. Except she was in Mona's room, flipping through the channels of the television and sipping on a mug of hot chocolate she'd begged Niall to make for her. Zayn, Liam, and Harry were all in their respective rooms, gathering their things and packing their bags, as they'd all be leaving come morning.

With a sigh, Mona trudged down the stairs, wondering where that "festive spirit" Harlow had been yammering on about all week was. Wasn't Christmas supposed to feel livelier than this?

Niall was sitting on the floor near the Christmas tree, back against the wall and nose stuck in one of his books. Mona swore she couldn't even pronounce the author's name. Except when she got closer, she realized that, even though his glasses were slipping down his nose, his eyes weren't moving, simply staring at the page, seemingly lost in thought.

"Hey," Mona said softly, moving closer towards him to sit cross-legged between his legs. "What's up?"

She noticed the way his shoulders jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, shrugging when he realized it was her. "Reading."

It was a bit of a struggle but she managed to peel the book from his fingers, closing it and placing it to the side of them, and the fact that he'd given in so easily only proved that he was, in fact, not reading. "No you're not."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her anyway. "That's because you just stole my book."

Mona scoffed. "Sure. You've been staring at that one page for the past twenty minutes."

Niall rolled his eyes again, but this time, he laced their fingers together, and at the sudden contact, Mona wondered when it had been acceptable for him to touch her. She never liked letting anyone into her bubble of personal space, but now, she was contemplating if she had ever resisted when it came to Niall.

His eyes were a bit dull, red rimmed as if he hadn't gotten any sleep when a couple of hours ago, when they were dancing in the kitchen, they'd been bright and lively and sparkling with life. She stroked her thumb over the back of his hand, tracing over the veins protruding from his skin. "Are you okay, Ni?" she asked, whispering the question like it was a secret meant only for the two of them.

His lips parted to say something, and Mona knew he was going to give her some bullshit about how he was fine, so she squeezed his hand slightly, his eyes darting to hers at the gesture. "I..." There was a gravelly quality to his voice, low and slightly tired, and Mona felt that protective instinct rise in her when it came to Niall, her other hand reaching to rest reassuringly on his knee. Finally, he sighed, resigned. "It's the first Christmas I've spent away from home." His statement ended in a whisper.

Mona smiled solemnly. "Yeah," she breathed. "Same."

Niall's eyes were trained on their linked fingers, teeth running along his lower lip before he took to biting the insides of his cheeks, one side of his mouth quirking upwards into a small smile. He chuckled lightly. "Have I ever told you that you remind me of home?"

Something ignited in her at that, the feeling she couldn't quite place traveling all the way down to the tips of her toes, body buzzing a bit as her eyes widened. "Really?" she asked, quite surprised at his sudden statement. "How so?"

He shrugged again, and Mona wondered if that was a blush staining his neck. "It's...I dunno, it's weird. It's because you always smell like mint and that smell reminds me of home."

She smiled. "Yeah. It's my lotion. I usually change the scent every season."

She tried not to notice the glint in his eyes, or the way he squeezed her fingers, or how he always reserved that fond look just for her. Niall may have been hard to read, but he was a challenge she accepted, her chest expanding whenever he opened up to her, whenever he let her read into a little more of his pages. "Please don't ever change your lotion." He said it so softly she almost didn't hear him. She couldn't help but think about how that one statement contradicted everything he led everyone to believe about his feelings for his home, and Mona wondered if, in actuality, he missed his tiny little house in Ireland that he shared with his dad and brother.

She didn't say anything else, though, instead shifting so she was on her knees, wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace. She didn't know how long they'd stayed in that position, but they'd snapped out of it when Harlow snuck up on them, armed with her Polaroid camera. "Hey guys!" she said, and they both just about jumped out of their skins, looking at her indignantly for ruining their moment. "Say cheese!" Harlow allowed them time to strike a pose, and they both laughed at her before plastering cheesy grins on their faces, arms wrapped around each other when Harlow snapped the photo.

She'd then called for the boys, who were still upstairs, rounding them all towards the couches as she—just as Mona'd expected—popped open a bottle of wine and poured them all a glass. They'd been chatting amiably as usual, the occasional bout of rowdy laughter punctuating their anecdotes. Eventually though, as the third bottle of wine was opened and the fire in the fireplace was dying down, the mood had shifted to a more quiet one, somewhat bittersweet at the realization that they'd be leaving come morning.

"Promise me," Harlow said, voice slurred from who knows how many drinks she'd consumed for the night. "That we'll never let go of this."

"How do you mean?" Harry piped up from his end of the couch.

Harlow elaborated. "That we'll always remember this. We'll make this a tradition, coming to this cabin every holiday season. Even when we're grown up and we have kids. And even when our kids have kids and we're all old and wrinkly." The group laughed, more somber than the lilting crescendos that peppered the evening. "Wherever we are in the world, promise me, every Christmas, we'd all meet up back here."

Liam nodded, raising his wine glass. "Even if we're fighting and we don't want to see each other's faces."

Niall pitched in. "Even if we have a thousand and one responsibilities."

"Every year. No exceptions." Zayn raised his glass as well.

Harry drunkenly raised his, and Mona was surprised he hadn't dumped the whole glass on himself, considering how wasted he was. "And if the cabin gets too small, we just build on it and expand it!" he exclaimed gleefully.

Mona hadn't ever felt so much affection surge in her body than she did right then, with five of her best friends, an overwhelming emotion swelling in her chest as she fought the tears the pricked in the back of her eyes. "Let's toast to it then," she said softly, raising her glass before they all toasted with a resounding "Cheers!" and Mona swore this little getaway was, without a doubt, the best she'd ever had.