Chapter Text
Today is an ordinary day, no different than the others. People on the streets seem to be in some kinda rush, as they always are, even though he is the one who's running. There's that flat down the road he's moved in just yesterday (straight after he came back from Mexico), that he's heading to now. He doesn't know all of his flatmates just yet. He's only got to meet a ‘frog prince’, Harry, by now and he must admit there's something weird about this one in particular. Harry was all curly hair and polite dimpled smiles that didn't quite reach his green eyes when they met. He looked nice but tired or maybe it's just what Niall tries to tell himself in an attempt of not making any assumptions. He likes the place though. He likes the way it's big and spacey, staying still warm and cosy at the same time. He likes the panelling and the fluffy carpets and warm colours filling the space, soft couches and armchairs and the dark wooden table sat in the middle of it all. Maybe it’s still a bit weird and maybe he could have gotten himself his own flat instead and decorated it all on his own too, but he likes the idea of sharing with lads. Even if he doesn’t know what he is signing himself up for. Even if he doesn’t know what kind of ‘lads’ might live there.
He doesn’t care about the red light as he runs straight past the pedestrian crossing and he doesn’t particularly mind a policeman stopping him right after and giving him a ticket. He’s not in a hurry. He smiles at the guy and gives him money, so he wouldn’t have to stay there any longer than necessary nonetheless. The flat is just a few meters away but there’s that nice small shop right at the corner where he stops for a bucket of ice cream just to not feel as if he lost any weight after that stupid pointless run he’s been practicing since forever now.
When he gets home (maybe it’s a tad bit strange to call that place home just yet, but if he didn’t, he’d have to call himself a homeless and that’d be definitely stranger), he goes straight to the kitchen to make some scrambled eggs for brunch (10 this time instead of his usual 8, because today he’s really hungry) and puts a kettle on for tea. There is more water than necessary in case any of his flatmates showed up for a cup of coffee or whatever it was they were drinking. It is a Saturday after all and Harry’s said everybody should be home during weekend.
He’s midway through his meal when the first person comes in. It’s a generally not bad looking guy with light brown hair, face covered in scruff and tired blue eyes. He’s pretty short and his hunched posture doesn’t help his height at all.
“Oh.” It’s what comes out of the man’s mouth first. “I think we weren’t introduced just yet? Or -” he asks confusedly, as if he wasn’t actually sure and Niall thinks he probably had a late night and seriously doesn’t remember one shit.
“Yeah, well, I’ve just moved in here yesterday, so I guess I’m your new flatmate.” He responds and grins at him widely before he adds – “Ah, name’s Niall by the way.”
“Louis.” Short guy replies with a yawn and heads to the countertop for something to drink. (Tea, Yorkshire, the one and only, and better fucking remember – Niall learns later). “It’s nice to meet you Neil.” He says as an afterthought when he’s already sat at the table and Niall doesn’t bother to correct him on the name. He doesn’t give two shits about his personal data or silly things like pronunciation. “So, do I get to know you a bit, or?”
“Not much to talk about, really.” Niall shrugs and pulls his ice cream out of the bag he’s left on the table. “I’m from Ireland, I play the guitar, I like ice cream.” He says. “You want some?”
Niall has a notebook where he writes things. Under today’s date it says:
Apparently not only the ‘frog prince’ is tired. It seems there’s also a ‘Yorkshire fanatic’, but I guess it is alright. None other individuals showed up today.
There are five people living in the flat. There’s a blonde guy, dyed hair, tall enough, blue eyes, wide smile, pale skin, freckles, tank tops, skinny jeans, guitar –and that’s Niall himself. There’s a really tall brunette, curly hair, green eyes, tired dimpled smile, weird shirts, weird bandanas and hats, weird clothes in general – and that’s Harry (the frog prince). There’s a short light brunette guy, messy hair, blue eyes, tired subdued smile, too big t-shirts, skinny pants, a mug of tea – and that’s Louis (the Yorkshire fanatic). Then there are two mysteries, first – strong black coffee silent drinker who’s never as much as shown up in the common room during that whole week, and second – “how is he feeling?” mystery, whom nobody ever calls by name and apart from the ‘black coffee mystery’ probably also nobody sees. Niall still doesn’t know their looks nor names. (And he also doesn’t really care).
He finds himself a nice routine in a matter of a few weeks. He works in a music store during most of weekdays and as a bartender in a local club on weekends’ nights, even though he doesn’t really need to do any of that. But no one has to know. Sometimes he wonders if he should drop it and just go, go from there, but then he reminds himself he lives with a bunch of suspiciously tired (depressed?) weirdos, who’s habits are even more of a routine than his stupid jobs, pointless runs in the morning and that ritual FIFA match he plays every weekday’s evening before going to sleep. He knows he doesn’t have a single habit he couldn’t break. But they – he feels like he lives with zombies. Or maybe ghosts haunting the same flat since Middle Ages even though he lives there hardly a month. And that should be enough to scare him off if it wasn’t for that stupid feeling there’s something up in that weird apartment in a weird building, and unfortunately he isn’t from the kind of people who seeing something’s up leave things the way they are and go. He’s from the kind who likes games and puzzles. And what’s a better kind of game than the one where other people’s life’s involved?
It’s a Saturday again and Harry sits on the couch in front of TV with a mug of some of his herbal stuff. There’s a book on the coffee table that looks as if it was read at least one thousand times too many. It’s “Oscar and the Lady in Pink” and Niall knows what the book is about. It’s about a terminally sick boy, Oscar, who – thanks to Mamie Rose – is trying to make the best of probably the last twelve days of his life.
“You reading this?” Niall asks, jumping on the couch next to the curly guy and motioning to the book.
“Nah, I think I already know this one by heart.” Harry responds with a small shrug of his shoulders.
“Is it that good?” Niall prompts again, even though he already knows, he’s read it before.
“Not really.” Harry shrugs again. “I mean – yeah, it is good, it’s just –“ he stops to think for a while. “It’s not really that nice or funny if you think of it, right?”
“Well, obviously.” Niall chuckles lightly. “He’s dying.” He then deadpans. “But – isn’t it great after all?”
“What the fuck Niall, what’s great about dying?” Harry looses it that exact moment and the blonde guy thinks he already knows half the story. This is when Louis comes in alarmed.
“Why are you talking about dying?” he asks cautiously. “Neil? What’s going on?”
“It’s Niall.” Harry corrects at the same time when Niall starts to respond.
“We’re talking about Oscar and the Lady in Pink.” He says. “And I wasn’t talking about dying per se. I was trying to say that it’s really great that he gets to live those last days of his life. Imagine someone who knows they are dying and then stops living at all afraid of the time the death comes. How silly is that! And guess what – most of people do exactly that. They get scared, stop living at all. What does matter their death if they already are dead half of their lives?” he asks, kind of rhetorically, and nobody answers. “There’s that saying guys, what doesn’t kill you that’s a pity. If you’re gonna be dead for life, it is, better just die.” Harry and Louis are sharing a look with sheepish expressions on their faces.
Niall gets up from the couch and heads to the haunted part of their flat. “It’s the ‘how is he feeling mystery’, right?” he asks and that has both his flatmates look up at him with surprise written all over their faces.
“The who?” they asks simultaneously.
“Oh, come on!” he throws his arms in the air. “You perfectly know who! This guy who apparently lives here, but nobody ever sees him, so I’m not actually sure if he does, and nobody ever calls him by name, always only asking how is he feeling, so I still don’t know who the fuck he is. But he’s the one, right? He’s dying, isn’t he.” And it’s not even a question, and so again, nobody answers. Well, at least not until somebody Niall haven’t ever seen in that house comes out of the haunted rooms.
“You mean Liam?” he asks, but it sounds like a threat. The guy is only an inch taller than him, but he’s towering him now and he looks pretty intimidating if you asked. His skin is nice shade of olive and his eyes are the colour of whiskey. He’d be fucking beautiful if he didn’t mean to be so scary. But Niall doesn’t have any of it.
“Yes, for fuck’s sake, so he does in fact have a name!” he responds loudly, despite everyone’s expectations. The three of his flatmates look startled for a second, before the ‘black coffee mystery’ – as Niall assumes – speaks again.
“You think he’s fucking deaf or what?! Who the fuck even are you in the first place and what the fuck are you doing in this flat” he demands. Niall laughs whole heartedly.
“This place is freakin’ weird, ya know” he manages between the fits of giggles.
“I like him.” Louis says to Harry quietly, with a shadow of smile ghosting on his lips.
“Yeah, I think – I think I might too.” Harry smiles a bit more confidently and shrugs sheepishly at the ‘black coffee mystery’ guy.
“If you weren’t shut down in your freaking haunting territory the whole fucking time, you’d know you have a new flatmate!” Niall exclaims finally when he calms down from his laughter.
“My what?” the guy asks glaring at him with raised eyebrows.
“Your haunting territory.” Niall repeats offhandedly as if he didn’t feel the tense atmosphere surrounding them all.
“You got to be fucking kidding me” the guy states incredulously but when Niall shakes his head firmly, that’s the exact moment when he loses it too, and bursts into laughter even louder than their previous argument. Harry and Louis join him too, because how ridiculous that even sounds, and they all laugh until the next door opens.
“Zayn?” there’s a quiet voice coming from the ajar door, that makes everybody stay still and completely quiet in a matter of a second.
“What is it Li?” the ‘black coffee mystery’ – Zayn apparently – responds immediately. “Do you need anything?” he asks, worry thick in his voice. “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you.” It’s half past twelve. Niall wants to punch him.
“No, no, it’s fine.” The voice replies. “I actually – I mean – you were laughing and – uh -”
“I’m sorry.” Zayn repeats and the blonde guy wants to ask why, WHY is he apologizing for that, but before he manages, the voice rushes to speak again.
“No! No, don’t apologize.” He says. “I mean – I just –“ he stutters, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say whatever he wanted to. “I just thought maybe I could – could meet him.” He manages finally.
“Meet whom?” Niall blurts out confused. There’s a moment of silence after that where everyone looks at everyone searching for the right answer or whatever it is – Niall doesn’t know.
“You.”
‘How is he feeling mystery’ looks polite, Niall decides. He’s not this kind of stunningly beautiful as the ‘black coffee mystery’ and not as charmingly looking as the ‘frog prince’ but you definitely couldn’t say he doesn’t look good, because he does. Maybe he’s a little bit pale, though it’s not a matter of his complexion, but more like the lack of sun, vitamins and sleep, and maybe he’s also a bit lanky, like he haven’t eaten properly in a while, but generally he doesn’t look bad. His smile is a tad bit forced and he looks as if he wasn’t really used to standing on the common ground of this flat, even though he’s been living there for God knows how long. His hair is brown and curly, even though it’s not particularly long, and his brown eyes are shiny and warm though rather sad.
Niall doesn’t get to know any details this day. He’d ask, but he knows the limits and he decides against it until he can stay with Liam (Leeyum, was it?) alone. He doesn’t know if that ever happens, but he’s got a plan and well, who’s there to tell him no. They play FIFA even though the dark guardian (Niall thinks this name suits him even better than ‘black coffee’, although there are similarities he can’t not notice) doesn’t seem to enjoy it in the slightest. He’s curled up in the other lad’s lap most of the time, and when it’s his turn he simply looses each match, telling Leeyum he doesn’t really care.
There’s a notebook where Niall writes things, and under today’s date it says:
So apparently the two haunting mysteries are very close. Could it be ‘how are you feeling’ likes black coffee? I have an awkward feeling.