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1dffexchange · 5 years

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Signed, Sealed, Delivered

To: E @unofficialxstyles

From: Leigh @thatoddpanda

Summary: There will come a day when Alena will know his name, but for the meantime, he'll be that Cute Guy Who Lives In 4D, and she'll be the girl from 4B.

An AU about neighbours, meddlesome roommates, dogs as the best wingmen, and things sent to the wrong person.

Author’s Note: My deepest apologies for taking so long. E, I hope you enjoy this!

Janelle and Tilly are totally gonna pay for this.

The girls will regret leaving her alone this early in the morning – on a weekend, no less – and Alena will make sure of it. Tilly’s going to be sorry for not coming home last night and Janelle’s going to wish she didn’t wake Alena up at the crack of dawn with a rushed “Brett surprised me with a romantic getaway in Cornwall please take Chowder out on a walk thank you love you bye!” as a seemingly appropriate explanation.

Hell will be unleashed on Earth.

At least, that’s how Alena puts it as she chases after the ball of fluff at the other end of the leash. It’s unfair, really, that she’s the one running along the cobblestoned streets of Oxford before the sun is fully out when she should still be in bed right now. This is Janelle’s job. It’s her puppy, for crying out loud. What was the purpose of drafting up a contract – courtesy of none other than Janelle Prescott herself – outlining their responsibilities over Chowder when they’re all just going to leave her high and dry?

She’s being dramatic, of course, but that’s just Alena before nine in the morning. Snarky and grouchy with a penchant for conjuring up empty threats directed at her flatmates.

Alena wants to cry by the third time Chowder manages to escape her hold. She loves the dog with all her heart – really, she does. Arguably legions more than Janelle does. But God it’s six in the morning and she’s running on two hours of sleep and Chowder’s way too energetic for this time of day. It’s impossible for her to keep up at this state. Alena just isn’t made for mornings. She knew it then when she was a naïve first-year signing up for 7 AM classes, and she knows it now when she pretends she doesn’t hear nice old Mr Lindbergh’s cheerful greeting as she passes by his bakeshop.

She feels a bit guilty about that right away, so she promises to herself that she’ll buy an extra bag of pastries from him the next time she pops in for a cuppa.

When they finally make it back to their building, Alena lets go of the leash for good. She has one hand on her waist while the other grips the neckline of her shirt in a shoddy attempt to fan herself. Chowder is now sitting on his hind legs. He stares at her, bearlike features shining with innocence as if he didn’t just make her go after him for five bloody kilometres. At this point, it’s hard to discern whether it’s sweat or tears that are running down Alena’s skin. Either way, she can’t bring herself to hate Chowder when he looks that bloody endearing. A possible demon clothed in thick brown fur, yet still endearing all the same.

There’s a ding at the other end of the lobby just as Alena wipes the dirt off her face rather ungracefully. Very quickly does she pull her thin grey shirt back down. A bloke steps out of the lift, yawning as he rubs his eyes from beneath his glasses. She recognizes him quickly – the short, seemingly soft brown hair and the scruff that perpetually lines his jaw something that Alena has grown accustomed to seeing nearly every other day.

It’s because of the run, is what she can say on the off chance that someone wonders why her cheeks are tinted pink. It’s really due to the cute guy that lives across the corridor making his way to the letterboxes lining the wall, but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t even know her name, to begin with.

Nor does she know his, but it’s a work in progress.

Saturdays have always been mail days for Alena. The same goes for him, she thinks, considering that the two of them have seemingly developed an unspoken routine of running into each other in the lobby at the end of the week to check for any post or package. It has never happened this early, but it’s a surprise that she certainly doesn’t mind

Nameless Neighbour from 4D presses his forehead against the cool metal doors. He stays like that for a few minutes – unmoving, not bothering to check their mailbox like he’s supposed to. She’s half-certain that he has fallen asleep standing upright.

Rooted in her spot, Alena doesn’t realise that she’s been staring at her neighbour until she feels Chowder’s fur tickling the exposed skin of her leg. Her eyes widen, and just when she thinks the redness of her cheeks has subsided, it comes back in a rush with the recognition that the sun’s just rising and she’s already acting like a total creep.

She certainly isn’t admiring the way his white henley is stretching across his back. That she swears on Chowder’s life.

After a deep breath and a quick check of her reflection through her phone’s screen, Alena fishes her keys out of the pocket of her running shorts. Chowder is roaming around the lobby as she walks up next to the boy and she lets the dog be — because, really, what sort of trouble can a four-month-old pup cause that’s worse than the hellish morning she’s just been through?

It takes another lungful of air for Alena to compose herself, to play it cool as she slips her key inside the hole of their own mailbox, to make sure her tone will not waver when she speaks, “You’re here early.”

The close proximity of the sound disorients him if the way his shoulders jump is anything to go by. He says “Huh?” to the wall when he lifts his head, a faint indent lining his skin where the steel hinge of one of the doors pressed against it. His eyes blink in rapid succession before it dawns on him that the person who just spoke is standing to his left.

“Oh, hey,” he smiles softly. Alena supposes he was only half asleep since he is able to answer, “Yeah, uh… my flatmate’s been looking forward to this package all week.” He proceeds to open the metal flap of their own box. “You?”

“Well—”

Chowder answers that one for her by nuzzling against his leg. There’s a brief second of surprise before 4D is bending down with a grin to scratch between the dog’s ears. It seems to excite Chowder so much that he takes to licking the guy’s face. Though he doesn’t seem to mind the pup’s antics — what with the corner of his eyes crinkling in pure delight despite having half his face smothered with saliva — Alena still takes caution.

“Chowder, behave.”

The smile doesn’t leave his face when he puts enough distance between him and Chowder. After he wipes his cheek with the sleeve of his shirt, he tilts his head up, chuckling, “Chowder? Chowder the chowchow?” And before she can defend her choice of name, he continues, “That’s genius. Personally, I would go for Chow mein but that’s only because I love myself some Chinese food.” He gets up after one last rub, pulling the hem of his shirt down in the process. “He’s adorable. How long have you had him?”

“He’s actually my roommate’s. Been with us for like, three months.”

He nods, acknowledging, and their conversation hits a lull as they both tend to their mail. 4B’s box is unusually full today. Beneath the stack of envelopes is a brown parcel, slim enough to be pulled out with ease yet big enough that it takes up half the space. It’s the first thing she grabs, a gasp promptly tumbling out of her lips at the sight of the student radio’s logo marking the middle of the wrapping paper. ‘Congratulations!’ emblazon the bottom right corner in block letters.

“Anything interesting?” he prompts, locking up with their own mail on hand.

She holds up the package, beaming. “I won a contest!”

He draws in a sharp breath that makes her smile falter and hang awkwardly. “Err, sorry to break it to you but… unless you’re named Harry Styles then I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

When he’s met with furrowed brows, he points at the back of the rectangular box. She flips it over, frowning when she sees a name on it that is indeed not hers. Her shoulders slump. A signed copy of WKW: The Cinema of Wong Kar Wai is in her fingertips, hiding underneath the wrap amongst other freebies, and it will not find a home in her bookcase. It will be in the possession of some Harry Styles, who — now that she thinks about it — has a name so ridiculous he probably doesn’t even exist in the first place.

Alena takes the rest of their mail then shuts the flap close. There’s a trace of disappointment in her tone when she voices her thoughts out loud, “Don’t think I can swing by their office to give it back right away though.”

“You don’t have to do that. I live with Harry.” Oh, she thinks, He’s real? How unfortunate. “Reckon that’s the package he’s been waiting for too.”

“Well…” her eyes flicker down to the parcel. “Okay then.”

Alena hands the prize to him so quickly as if it burns to the touch. She knows that if she holds onto it for a little while longer, it’ll be harder for her to part with it. She takes Chowder in her arms, which the puppy takes as an opening to lick the phantom frown off her face. They both head to the lift, and with her hands full, she thanks him when he presses the button to their floor.

It isn’t until the doors have closed and they have reached the upper level when he speaks again, “What’s in this anyway?”

“A book about Wong Kar Wai’s films.” She cuddles Chowder closer to her chest. “It’s signed by him too.”

“Never heard of him,” he admits, a pensive look crossing his features. “Don’t think Harry has, either. Dunno what he’d want with this.”

“There’s some other stuff in it too, but I’m not sure what. Didn’t pay attention, really. I was just after the book.”

He hums in response. A brief bout of silence falls over them as they continue the rest of their ascent. It’s a quick ride up, the doors parting on the fourth floor with no other pitstop. They make their way out and come to a halt at the corridor where their flats meet halfway.

Still-Unnamed-Bloke from 4D (she really should ask him what it is) turns and dips his head down to get to Chowder. “Be a good boy, yeah?” he says, running his fingers through his fur one last time before looking back up at Alena.

All too quickly, she’s hyper-aware of the current state of her appearance. Stray strands have escaped the tight ponytail holding her long black locks together. Baby hairs stick out in every which way possible. Her shirt has ridden up slightly, exposing a strip of her skin where stretch marks line her hip. Her lips are pale, poised in a tight, awkward smile. In her arms is a high-spirited dog still trying to paw at her neighbour.

She’s seen better days.

“So, uh…” he sticks his thumb out to point at the cherry wood behind him.

“Yeah,” she chuckles lightly and nods.

Alena pivots on the heels of her red trainers and takes the two steps to get home. Chowder runs free once the flat is unlocked. Her hand is on the bronze knob when she tilts her head up and sees that he still hasn’t moved an inch in the hallway. He’s got one arm crossing over his chest as he scratches the back of his neck.

The smile on his face is immediate when he notices her looking back at him.

“Uh… yeah,” he breathes, finally dropping his arm back to his side. “See you around, 4B.”

His back is on her before she can respond — if she can even do so in the first place — and then he’s disappearing into the comfort of his own flat. All she faces now is the bronze 4D engraved on a metal plate contrasting the dark wood. It isn’t until barking sounds echo in her living room that Alena finally shuts their door close.

She crouches down, taking Chowder’s fluffy face into her hands, before stealing a scratch between his ears. “We are not telling Tilly and Jan about this, alright?”

She takes the fat stripe of saliva across her cheek as a yes.

///

It’s futile to even attempt going back to bed — Alena realises that after tossing and turning for a considerable amount of time, only to find out that sleep doesn’t have its arms wide open for her anymore. It takes about a good hour or so ‘til she finally gives up, jumping in the shower before getting a headstart on her still-life portfolio.

Not that it’s due anytime soon, but preparedness is key for a professor like the great Sinead O’Malley.

She has done about fifteen shots of an empty drinking glass on the countertop, trying to get the composition just right, when Tilly does up the final steps to her walk of shame. Or perhaps it’s a stride of pride, depending on how good the bloke did her last night.

“Aren’t I such a wonderful roommate?” Tilly lilts, waltzing into the kitchen with a paper bag in hand. It’s as if she’s floating on air, and yep, it definitely is a stride of pride.

Alena doesn’t miss a beat. “Nope.” She clicks the shutter and it turns out like all the previous ones — lacklustre, mediocre. “I had to take Chowder out today.”

Said puppy is currently dozing off peacefully on the couch. That could’ve been me, Alena muses.

“Where’s Janelle?” The ringlets of Tilly’s fiery red hair come loose as she takes a container out of the bag.

“In Pornwall.”

Tilly snickers. “I like that. I’m stealing that one.” She picks up another box and holds it out to Alena like a present of some sort.

It’s a slow reveal as Tilly sings— rather, tries to carry out a high note (it’s more of a shrill, really) while opening the lid. Not that it actually would’ve held up under normal circumstances, but Alena’s carefully crafted plan of vengeance is but a mere afterthought at the sight of her favourite mouthwatering stack of coconut pancakes from the cafe along St Michael’s Street.

“Now, am I a good roommate or not?”

“The absolute best!” squeals Alena. She places her camera down on the table and replaces it with Tilly’s peace offering.

They both take their places on the stools and begin digging into their own breakfasts. In the midst of the silence, Alena takes note of the unusual glow of Tilly’s pale skin. It does a wonderful job making the lovebites on her neck stand out. She doesn’t miss the way Tilly is swaying her head along to some beat that only she knows of.

It’s when Tilly’s phone chimes and a shy smile worms its way onto her lips that curiosity gets the better of Alena. “You’re in an awfully good mood.”

Tilly tries to keep her glee at bay by keeping her spoon in her mouth, but it is to no avail. “Well… let’s just say Louis Tomlinson’s definitely going to get a phone call one of these days.”

“Tallulah,” she says loftily, cocking an eyebrow paired with a smirk. “Is this commitment I hear?”

“Oh relax. It’s just shagging, not bloody marriage.” Tilly sets her spoon down on the box. “Besides, he’s a fun guy. I wouldn’t mind if this becomes a thing.”

A gasp is the most Tilly can handle hearing from Alena right now, so she reaches for the stack of mail sitting on the corner of the island to save herself from any further inquisition.

“What do we have here?” Tilly thumbs through each envelope, all the while mumbling, “Liam Payne… Liam Payne… Liam James Payne… Are you sure you didn’t get the neighbour’s mail? Liam Payne… Oh!” She takes a red one out of the pile. “This one’s for Jan.”

“Liam Payne is like,” Alena wipes the sugar off her lips with a napkin, “the captain of the footie team now, right?”

Tilly hums her assent as she continues to segregate the mail.

“And he lives across the hall, yeah?”

Once again, Tilly hums. There’s a whopping total of two envelopes addressed to their flat when she’s done sorting. Though there’s still a third of the pancakes left on the plate, Alena reaches for the taller stack as she gets off her chair.

“I should probably get these to him then. Might be important.”

“They’re just fan mail.”

“Still,” she insists.

Tilly doesn’t really care enough to protest, so Alena gets to exit their flat and head on over to 4D without another word. The door opens to a bloke with buzzcut hair, black sweatpants hanging off his hips and a grey shirt brandishing the uni’s logo across his torso. Alena doesn’t live under a rock. She knows who Liam Payne is; everyone does. Smart, gorgeous, athletic Liam Payne who never stops raving about saving the environment. Alena in her first year would’ve been thrilled to be standing on his doorstep. Third-year Alena? Not nearly as much, apparently.

“Hey!” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to take a peek inside the flat over Liam’s shoulder. Not that she could, either way, as he’s got a good few inches on her. “Liam, right?”

“Yes!” he smiles warmly. “What can I do for you, love?”

She hands over the envelopes to him. “These got sent to ours.”

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that.” His lips curl to a slight frown for a moment before they spring back up. “Thanks for bringing them around though.”

“Sure thing!” she beams, a bit too enthusiastic even by her standards.

There’s a beat of silence that passes between them before Liam decides to break it first. “Well, do you want to pop in? I’ve made some Greek chickpeas on toast for breakfast. Good for the health and is delicious too.”

Alena contemplates on the offer for a bit. While it makes for a wonderfully sound excuse for her to finally know Glasses Guy from 4D’s name, there lies the possibility of her coming off a bit stalker-ish. The chance encounter just hours ago has already filled in her quota. Besides, there’s still a bit of pancake across the hall that has her name written all over it. No toast can beat that, no matter how tasty Liam claims it to be.

So, she says, “Ah, I’ve already eaten,” a half lie, “but thanks for the offer though.”

“Alright. Well, thank you…” he trails off, and it takes a second and a half for her to realize that he’s waiting for her to introduce herself.

“Alena.”

“Right. Thanks, Alena.”

“You’re welcome, Liam.” She gives him a brief nod and a smile before flitting back to her flat.

Liam closes the door behind him and heads back to the kitchen where he and his flatmates — or rather, one current and one former flatmate — are having breakfast. He drops the mail onto the rest of the pile Niall had gotten earlier and takes his place on the seat next to Zayn.

Niall pushes his glasses up his nose. His mouth is full of chickpeas when he asks, “Who was that?”

“The neighbour,” Liam responds nonchalantly.

To downplay his curiosity, Niall takes a moment to gulp down the last of his food before continuing, “From 4B?”

“Mhmm.”

And, before Niall could further ask which one of the girls from across the hall brought it in, Zayn speaks, “Did you seriously have your fan mail sent to a different address?”

“They don’t want it sent to Merton anymore!” defends Liam.

“That doesn’t mean you should address it to your bloody neighbour,” chides Niall, “Great. First, there’s Harry’s prize from Oxide, now it’s your fan mail.” He circles the breakfast bar and stops next to Zayn. “By the way, you might want to leave early. Harry’s gonna be—”

“Too late!” They hear him before they see him, but in a matter of seconds, Harry is striding into the kitchen with his nose upturned. “Good morning Liam. Good morning Niall.”

The absence of Zayn’s greeting rings clear, so Niall tunes out the inevitable bickering between the two by going through the mail. There’s an odd one out, a square envelope that isn’t Liam’s fanmail nor a monthly bill. A careful, golden flourish of a name that’s foreign to him sits on the cream paper.

“Does anyone know an A-lee-na Diane Mercado?” He holds it up for the rest of the lads to see.

“Oh, no no no,” Zayn says quickly, turning to Niall to weasel himself out of Harry’s cold glare. “It’s A-leh-na. Not A-lee-na. She hates it when people pronounce her name wrong.”

“Who’s Alena?” asks Harry, pronouncing it correctly at the first try. He’s looking at Niall instead of Zayn even though the latter has a higher probability of answering that question.

It’s Liam who responds instead. “The girl from 4B.” When Harry just blinks at him, he continues, “You know, black hair, a wee bit short—”

“The cute one with the pretty brown eyes, yep. Got it,” mutters Niall when the recognition hits him right in the face.

The rest of the boys hear him loud and clear though, which is why Zayn attempts to retrace Niall’s words.

“I’m sorry, cute one?”

“With the pretty brown eyes?” adds Harry, a mischievous glint sparkling in his own eyes.

“Is our little Nialler crushing on someone?” Zayn probes further.

“Not just someone, our neighbour!” Harry eggs on, eyebrows wiggling. His shoulders are shimmying too, but Harry has never been known for his coordination so his timing looks a little bit — no, extremely — off.

“I’ve got it.” Zayn snaps his fingers. “We can call you Niallena!”

“Or,” Harry sing-songs, “Aleniall!”

“Yes, yes, Aleniall does sound better.” Zayn shifts on his seat and looks up at Niall. “Say, mate, how pretty are her brown eyes?”

“Are they prettier than me?” Harry leans on the counter, propping his chin on his intertwined hands as he bats his eyelashes meticulously. Niall grabs the dirtiest dish towel within his reach and chucks it at his roommate. To his dismay, Harry catches it in the nick of time and slings it over his shoulder.

God, Niall wants to buy a one-way ticket back to Ireland and bury himself in the soils of his homeland. Maybe he could go somewhere farther, somewhere warmer — like Ecuador, maybe — so that his corpse will decompose faster. If this is what Zayn and Harry are like in the midst of a cold war, he doesn’t even want to imagine what it’d be like once one of them waves the white flag and decide to team up.

“Sod off, will ya?” Niall turns to Zayn with his brows furrowed. “How do you even know her in the first place?”

“She’s in Fine Arts too. Absolutely wicked with a brush, that lass.”

“Ohhh.” That makes sense, he supposes, especially when he thinks back to the day she moved in and he caught a glimpse of an easel being hauled inside their flat. “You friends with her then?”

“Yeah, I guess. I was the one who told her that the redhead in 4B was looking for roommates. Worked out well then, eh?” Zayn smiles wickedly.

“Hold on,” Liam chimes in with a contemplative look on his face, “Is she the reason why you’ve been getting the mail? ‘Cos I’ve lived with you for three years now mate and you’ve never done that once before.”

“I’m just being a good roommate!”

His friends know him all too well, so clearly, no one buys his thinly-veiled excuse. He can feel the heat rising up his cheeks, and such is the curse of the Irish because now they’re snickering at how red his face has become. It’s an admission in plain sight, there’s no need for him to spell it out loud.

“God, you lot are the worst,” huffs Niall.

Harry drapes an arm around his shoulder, looking down on the envelope in between his fingers. “Well, go on then Postman Pat. You’ve got one last mail to deliver.”

With both hands now resting on Niall’s shoulders, Harry starts pushing him out of the kitchen and lets go only when Niall is standing in the corridor. Harry leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Defeated, Niall heaves out a sigh. He looks between 4B’s door and the letter, and then he turns his head back to Harry who’s got an expectant look on his face.

The internal battle wagers on until Niall eventually decides to head back inside. He grabs a sticky note and a pen from Liam’s room, as it is the one closest to the front door. Big chunky letters saying ‘It got mixed in our mail :)’ are scrawled on the Post-It and attached on the envelope. Niall comes back out and sticks it on the door with a strip of masking tape. He knocks twice before dragging Harry back with him inside and shuts the door close behind them.

Harry takes the towel off his shoulder and hits the back of Niall’s head with it. “What the hell was that?”

Niall grumbles and shoves Harry off him. “Enjoy your vegan breakfast.”

It might not be much, but Niall will take the look of disgust on Harry’s face as a bout of victory.

///

It could be a splash of ice-cold water or someone farting right in your face. Maybe the sound of a jackhammer working on the street or the news of a loved one taking their last breath. There are worse ways to be woken up, but that doesn’t mean Alena appreciates having the fire alarm be the first thing she hears in the morning.

Strike one was last Sunday, and— well, okay, maybe she needed that or else she would’ve been late to brunch with her sister. The second: two days ago, with only one hour of sleep after a late-night shoot. Janelle had choice words with Liam to make sure it won’t happen again; a barking Chowder and a grumpy, sleepless Alena are just too much to deal with in the morning.

It’s Thursday, the sun is barely out, and it’s happening again.

Alena jumps out of bed with an agenda. She tears off a page from a random notebook, scribbling on it furiously with thick strokes underlining particular phrases. Her flatmates practically cheer when she marches across the hallway. Three knocks and a note taped to the door after and Alena buries herself back underneath her covers.

Inside 4D, Niall exits his bedroom when the alarm goes off, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring. “Harold! What the bloody hell are you on again?”

“How is the water burning? How?!” Harry screams. Chestnut curls sit wildly atop his head, eyes blown wide in sheer panic. Niall would laugh at how ridiculous his flatmate is looking right now had the bloke not been a constant pain in his ass for the entire week.

“Jesus,” he mutters. He grabs a towel, dampening it before pushing Harry out of the way to stop the fire. He doesn’t even want to think about it. Doesn’t want to know how one of Oxford Law’s most brilliant minds can be such an absolute buffoon in the kitchen.

Harry just stands there, helpless, as Niall cleans up after him. “This wouldn’t happen if Zayn still lived here.”

“This wouldn’t happen if you stayed out of the damn kitchen,” snaps Niall.

“I can’t live like this anymore, Ni! Liam’s diet is going to kill me!”

“Not if you burn the flat down first!”

Harry loses the opportunity to defend himself as the sound of loud knocks fills the room and Niall is already marching to the front door. Niall’s befuddled by the sight of an empty hallway, but before he could chalk it up to one of the little kids in the building pulling a prank, he catches a glimpse of a sheet of paper contrasting the tan floors of the flat.

Niall doesn’t know what to expect from it, but he supposes a complaint from one of their neighbours is well-deserved (and honestly long overdue) at this point.

Dear 4D,

Please stop tripping the fire alarm at six in the bloody morning. Some of us need sleep. This is the third time you’ve woken me up. Show some mercy.

Also please tell Liam Payne that we have his fanmail. Again!!! If he doesn’t win the game next week we’re telling his fangirls his REAL address.

Sincerely, 4B

PS: DO NOT INTERACT UNTIL AFTER 9AM!!!

PPS: have you guys been feeding our dog?

Niall’s trying his hardest not to castrate Harry when he looks up from the note with an early morning fury that only he can possess. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“How was I supposed to know that water burns?” Harry yells back, and shit, why isn’t Liam here to keep Niall from strangling Harry to his untimely death?

“It doesn’t, you bloody idiot! How did you even get into Oxford?”

Harry gasps, loud and ostentatious that make Niall question if he truly did hit a nerve. He decides he doesn’t care. What he does care about is getting back to sleep, stat, and to amend the bridges that Harry’s (inadvertently) burning down. So he tears off a page from the legal pad on the coffee table, scribbles a heartfelt apology, waits patiently until the clock strikes nine to slip the note under 4B’s door, then bans Harry from even breathing in his direction until he’s resurfaced back from his hard-earned slumber.

///

The Saturday that follows the fire alarm incident isn’t her designated mail day, so it takes a little bit longer for Alena to bump into Liam’s — and Harry’s — Still Nameless Roommate.

Funny how she practically knows everyone who lives in 4D except for the one guy she actually has eyes for. Social media should do the trick. Tilly could drop his name without an afterthought. Heck, she can utilise her acquaintance with one of his former roommates who’s in the same course as her. But a small part of Alena — the one with a voice too loud for anyone’s good — wants it to happen through the old-fashioned way.

She’s also got slippery fingers prone to double taps on Instagram. And Tilly’s the biggest blabbermouth of all of Europe. And Zayn owes her one too many favours that she doesn’t want to cash in yet.

So she doesn’t take the risk.

It finally happens on a Wednesday. Alena wants to take advantage of the fair weather so she exits her flat with a sketchpad and her watercolour kit stashed in her canvas tote. She’s just pressed the down button for the lifts when she hears a voice from behind her.

“Hey!” It’s 4D, waving his hand as he walks swiftly towards her. He’s got a blue polka dot shirt with a pair of black skinny jeans to match. A strap of his backpack rests on his shoulder.

“Hi!” She smiles when he stops next to her.

“No Chowder today?”

“No,” she laughs, hoisting her bag up higher, “He’s with my roommate.”

“Ah, I see.”

The doors finally part and they enter the lift. Already inside is a man in his late thirties who smiles at them in acknowledgement when they nod at him politely.

“Listen,” Friendly Neighbourhood Guy From 4D begins again after they’ve made it two levels down, hand reaching back to scratch his neck, “I really wanna apologize ‘bout the fire alarms last week.”

“Well it hasn’t happened again, so it’s all good,” Alena reassures him with sincerity because apparently, her grudges expire at the 9 o’clock mark.

He sighs, relieved. “Great! That’s— good! Great!” He clears his throat just as they reach the ground floor. They’ve only taken a few steps into the lobby when he sticks his hand out to her. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

Niall.

Niall Niall Niall.

Not 4D, not Glasses Guy, not That Nerd Who Lives With Liam as Janelle once said. Just Niall.

Alena tries to contain her glee, so the rest of the world will have to pretend not to notice that she’s lighting up at the mere discovery of the guy’s name. “Alena!” She accepts his hand and shakes it briefly before pulling back.

“So, erm… d’you go to Oxford too?” he asks as they exit their building together.

“Yep,” she nods in the midst of pulling down the sleeve of her tawny button-up. “Fine Arts. You?”

“History and Econ,” he answers, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are you off to class then?”

“Not yet. I’m gonna hang around at the Grove to work on a project.”

Niall stuffs a hand in his pocket. “Oh, well… is it alright if I walk with you? I’m meeting a few mates at Magdalen so I’m going the same way.”

“I don’t mind.”

It takes fifteen minutes to get to The Grove on foot, during which Niall and Alena fill the silence with mindless chatter. He tries to apologise two more times for Harry’s Kitchen Disasters and she brushes him off both instances with light chuckles to show that she really has gotten over it. Apparently, Harry is going bonkers over Liam’s vegan diet, and since Zayn has moved out of their flat and Niall is practically dead to the world in the mornings, Harry has decided to take matters into his own hands.

Those fifteen minutes fly by way too quickly for Alena’s liking. It’s just a little after her grand retelling of how Chowder nearly ruined her latest artwork when they eventually bid their farewells. She’s on her phone in a heartbeat, though the autumn leaves sparking her inspiration keeps her from fully paying attention to the message she’s typing.

omgggg ate i finally know his name

It’s supposed to be sent to Casey. The response should be coming from her older sister, but sticky fingers do not pair well with distraction, so of course, Alena finds herself texting a different thread instead.

Tilly Who?

Alena wants the ground to swallow her whole. Uproot her entire life and create a new identity for herself. Maybe move back in with her parents, even though they live 6,000 miles away and are basking in all the sun Pampanga can offer. All ideas seem more appealing than her flatmate knowing she’s been harbouring a crush on their neighbour for a while now.

Janelle OOOOOOOOOOH! Is this the nerd boy?

Tilly Nerd boy??

Janelle Brett says hi, btw.

HI BRETT 👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼

Tilly Bye brett Dont change the subject Whos nerd boy

jan is chowder wit u? give him kisses for me! xxxx

Tilly hellooooooooo

Janelle Will do 😘🤗 Brett wants to know too.

Tilly WHO IS NERD BOY I want to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Janelle She’s gonna know eventually Lens.

Tilly WHOOOOOOOO whoooo

oh my gosh FINE its the bloke in 4d

Tilly Oh shit NIALL? YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON NIALL

thats how u spell it? and what makes u think its him 🤨

Tilly

Because everyone knows who liam is And zayn doesnt live there anymore And harry doesnt look like a nerd DEDUCTION, BITCH!! omyGOD

Janelle

See? I told you he looks like a nerd!

stopppp dont be mean ☹ tilly please dont tell anyone about this PLEASE

Tilly I WONT! 🤐🤐 Im just gonna lock you out tonight

um where do u expect me to sleep then

Tilly

sleep with him 😉😏😉😏 🍆✊🏼💦💦💦

TALLULAH

///

As it turns out, Harry Styles is an actual name of an actual, living and breathing human being who really does live across the corridor. Alena confirms this at a party that Janelle’s coursemates are throwing, and Brett walks over to a bloke and screams “Styles!” as he claps said guy’s back. Harry turns around and Alena gets a good view of him — the same set of rowdy curls and the slightly slouching stature that she’s seen more frequently ever since she started hanging out with Niall.

The party is a bit too posh than what Alena is used to, but nothing short of what she expects from Law students. Oddly enough, she ends up chatting the night away with Harry, who admits feels a slightly out of place even though these are the same people whom he goes to classes with. His number makes its way to her phone when the night draws to a close, paired with a promise to ring him should she need his assistance.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever have to.

She’s certain she won’t find a use for it.

Except she’s now lost track of time and it’s nearing midnight and it just so happens to be pouring buckets on the very same day she’s without an umbrella. She’s the only one left in the studio, Ruskin is still a long way away from home, her flatmates aren’t picking up, and she only realises just then that she doesn’t have Niall’s number.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and today, desperation is synonymous to shooting Harry Styles an SOS.

HARRY! Its alena from 4b Sooooo sorry i know its late but can i ask u for a favor?

Had Alena been in the comforts of her own flat, she would’ve heard the way Niall calls for Harry — fuming, brows set in an alarming dip as he shows the texts to his roommate. She also would’ve assumed that the lads have given a home to a hyena with the way Harry flat-out cackles at the fruits of his hard labour. But she isn’t, so all she’s left with is a text message that comes in a few minutes later.

sorry love its niall . harry mustve given out th wrong number Everything alrite tho ? maybe i can help

Stuck in the rain and none of my roomies are picking up :( Was gonna ask if u could check if theyre still alive

theyre not home . chowders staying with us for 2night where r u ? i can pick youu up

Alena stares at her screen for a moment. Contemplates and weighs the pros and cons. She’s beyond exhausted and all she wants is to cuddle with Chowder. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to be a bother. She looks frantic, hair a wild mess atop her head, cheeks splattered with purple and gold paint, skirt askew her hips that the zip that’s supposed to be lining her leg now runs along her backside.

When she yawns, she decides that sleep trumps everything else. Inconvenience and unsightliness be damned.

Ruskin

Alright . be there in 20 x

Niall shows up in less with a grey Skoda that she knows belongs to Harry. He jumps out, opens an umbrella for her, and she voices out her gratitude as she straps herself in. She gets comfortable as Niall rounds the car and gets inside the driver’s seat.

“Why’re you out so late?” he asks as he starts the car.

“Been working on a project and lost track of time.”

He alternates his gaze between her and the road. “What’s it about?”

“It’s supposed to be about magic but… I don’t know…” she sighs, hugging her overflowing tote closer to her chest, “It’s not coming out like how I envisioned it to be.”

Niall frowns briefly before the corners of his lips tug up to a soft, sincere smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

The lampposts that they pass by illuminate Niall in warm, methodical flickers. He looks calm and soft, like a favourite pillow that brings comfort as the moon shines and makes it hard to get out of bed when the rain falls. And as the wheels graze the asphalt that will take them home, Niall distracting her with mindless chit-chat about this new diet that Liam’s trying (and consequently bringing Harry closer to his grave), Alena has a good feeling that she will do just that.

///

“Just ask her out, mate.” Liam’s chin digs into Niall’s shoulder with every syllable he speaks.

“Yeah,” Harry agrees through a mouthful of dumplings. The Notebook playing on the telly has his full attention, which is how he ends up dropping another xiaolongbao back on his plate. That and his fingers appear to be sworn enemies with the chopsticks he’s gripping.

“You’re holding it wrong,” Niall assesses in the midst of pushing Liam’s face away.

“I’m just saying!” Liam grins, leaning back with his arms propping him up. “She’s nice, she’s pretty—”

“She willingly hangs out with you,” adds Harry. He seems to have given up on the chopsticks. “That’s a very rare trait.”

“Fuck off,” Niall huffs.

He takes to staring at his notes on world economy to fend off his flatmates. Except none of the words makes any semblance of sense to him because now it seems his brain has taken up residence in the room across the hall. A whole month has passed since he finally struck up the courage to introduce himself to the girl from 4B — Alena — and it feels like the stars and the planets have all aligned in his favour.

And Niall doesn’t even believe in all that cosmic mumbo jumbo.

“C’mon,” says Liam, “You haven’t been out on a date in years.”

Niall shoots him a pointed glare. “Years? You were there when Lisa broke up with me. That was six months ago.”

“That’s six months too long.” Harry pops the last dumpling in his mouth and places his plate on the coffee table next to Niall’s books.

Liam seems really keen on this whole idea so he continues, “Just give it a shot, Ni. What have you got to lose?”

Everything? Niall presumes. A friend. A perfectly wonderful neighbour who once split a sandwich with him simply because she’s really proud of how the melted cheese turned out. Someone to pick up at Ruskin because of a shoot that ran until the skies are tinted pitch black. The bi-weekly mail runs that he’s come to enjoy. Maybe even Chowder, and Christ, Niall really has gotten attached to that growing furball.

Even though Harry’s eyes are practically glued to the telly, he still puts in his two cents. “Go for it. Maybe she can draw you like one of her French girls or summat.”

“Jesus,” Niall grumbles. “That’s it, I’m out.”

He gathers up a few things — his laptop and its charger, a legal pad that most definitely belongs to Harry, an Econ book that’s seen better days, and a green highlighter that’s about to put itself out of commission — then heads out of the flat. It’s only when he’s shut the front door that he realises he has nowhere to go to. It’s late. He’s not really in the mood to trek all the way to the library. No coffee shop within a three-minute radius is open. His room isn’t even remotely an option. The bed is far too inviting and he won’t get an ounce of work done.

The hallway is the only way.

It isn’t so bad. No flatmate to bother his peace nor depict him as a modern-day Rose. He can still access their wi-fi from where he’s sitting. The floor’s a bit colder, but he can manage. In the thirty minutes he’s been outside, only the couple who lives in 4F has passed by; drunk off their arses but not enough to disturb Niall (or at least, sober enough to navigate around the makeshift blockade he’s created).

He’s completely in the zone he doesn’t notice the door in front of him open.

“What’re you doing out here?”

Niall lifts his head up, mouth slightly ajar, though it takes a little longer for him to take his eyes off the screen. “Hey,” he smiles at Alena, who’s holding a garbage bag as she looks at him with furrowed brows. “Liam and Harry are being… well, Liam and Harry.”

Alena gives him a sympathetic smile. “Lemme just throw this out and you can study at mine.”

“You sure?”

She now has her back to him as she heads to the chute at the end of the corridor. “Yep. We’re all staying up late anyway. You just have to be really quiet though. We don’t like noise.”

“That I can do.” He picks up his stuff once more, though he only has his laptop and charger in his arms now as Alena is quick to grab the rest.

“Remember, absolutely no noise.”

Niall runs his thumb and forefinger across his lips to mimic a zip then holds his hand up in a silent vow. Chowder is bounding over to them the second the door opens, wide-eyed and tongue out. He only manages to say “Hey bo—” before the girls shush him right away.

Right. Total, absolute, complete silence.

The rich scent of coffee takes over his senses. Tilly has her readings spread out on the coffee table while Janelle has set up shop on the couch. In front of the crackling fire are sheets of paper and some paint brushes, along with a couple of mugs with murky brown water. He situates himself near Alena’s spot, more out of fear of encroaching her flatmates’ space than anything.

He settles in quite nicely. It’s serene. The heat from the fireplace is a welcome change. Every once in a while, one of the girls would ball up a piece of paper and throw it at anyone who’s on the verge of falling asleep. Chowder would pad over to Niall to trick him into giving some belly rubs.

Niall falls for it every single time.

It’s only when he’s going over his notes when a distraction comes in the form of a small scrap of paper that Alena slides over.

Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea? It says, in the same hurried script as the noise complaint they got last month.

Niall tears a portion off his pad and uses his highlighter to jot down his response before handing it to Alena. She smiles at him before getting up, returning a few minutes later to hand him a steaming cup of coffee. His name is on it, scribbled on a bright pink sticky note with a smiley face at the bottom. He chances a look at all the other cups on the floor. They’re all labelled accordingly — ‘DO NOT DRINK’ and ‘coffee paint’ and ‘SAFE to drink’ in different colours of Post-Its.

He wonders how many mishaps there have been in the past, drinking from the wrong cup and ingesting paint water instead, for her to take such precautionary steps.

Alena goes back to work right away. Try as he might, but Niall couldn’t. It’s the occasional glances, watching as she purses her lips to the side. Tendrils escape the ponytail that holds her hair up. Her shirt, white and splattered with paint both old and new, hangs loosely around her frame. The light of the fireplace casts a warm glow on her skin, one side illuminated better than the other. He gets lost in her concentration; mesmerized with the way her tongue darts out just the tiniest bit as she tends to the details of her painting.

He takes it all in — the way her eyes sparkle in the firelight, narrowing as she assesses her work; her back slumping forward to a degree that is probably not good for her spine; the crease between her brows, the left one dipping more than the right; how her gaze shifts back and forth between two sheets as if she’s torn as to which one of her self-portraits showcased her skills better — the one that captures her in the midst of a laugh or the other that has her all stoic and collected.

Niall is so caught up in his daze that he doesn’t see Janelle crumpling up a sheet of paper.

Shit.

He’s nowhere near dozing off and yet here he is, getting hit square in the cheek for being too distracted.

From where he’s sitting on the floor, Niall looks up at Janelle with an unimpressed glare. She returns it with a smirk before diving back into her case studies. It’s the push he needs to finally mind his business and type up the damn conclusion for his paper. He doesn’t check the time once he wraps up the essay, but it’s only him and Janelle that appear to be the last two men standing.

One sticky note on top of a painting, a hushed farewell, and Niall takes his leave.

When Alena wakes up, it’s with a soft, shy smile at the sight of Niall’s chunky handwriting. She ends up choosing the one swirling in different hues of brown that depicts her with a grin as bright as the soft morning light.

///

Take one glance at Alena and you’ll see a woman who has the whole world at her fingertips. Loose tendrils that frame her face are curled to perfection. The rest of her hair, parted at the middle, is pulled back to a sleek bun. Janelle has done a wonderful job on her makeup for the night, cheekbones accentuated and plump lips looking even pinker. She’s in a pristine white dress and nude heels to match.

She’s in her element by the looks of it — surrounded by art that’s brought to life by her own fingertips (well, hers and a few of her other coursemates). Wide smiles tug at her lips as she welcomes the exhibit’s guests. Anyone would think she’s having the time of her life, and for the most part, she is. Though there’s still this tiny squeak inside her that doubts the quality of her work, it’s easily quelled by the positive remarks she’s being showered in all night.

And had she been eagle-eyed, she would’ve noticed the way Niall’s jaw drops at every artwork that has her name attached to it.

When Alena finally catches a breather, she spots Niall in front of one of Zayn’s paintings. She excuses herself from her sister and a few of her professors to go up to him. She reaches Niall at the same time as Harry, though the latter takes one look at the caption before he’s scoffing and moving onto the next work.

“What’s the deal with those two?” she says to Niall, thumb directed to where Harry is slinking off to.

Niall pauses from reading the description to turn to Alena. “Who, Zed and Haz?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you lot used to live together?”

He nods. “Would you believe me if I said they were the best of mates?” Her eyes widen, and he chuckles in turn. “Proper inseparable those two. Had this whole plan to live our final year to the wildest of their abilities. Except Zed moved out to live with his girlfriend and now, well… you know. Harry’s just being stroppy but he’ll get over it. Anyway,” he breathes, lips curling upwards, “I should offer my congratulations, star of the night.”

“Not even remotely true!” Alena defends, although the rosy glow of her cheeks isn’t simply because of the makeup now. She holds back her grin, points her head to the side and says, ”Care for a tour?”

With a nod, Niall takes her up on the offer. It’s quite a task, he realises as they roam around the gallery, deciding which one to focus on — the artworks or Alena’s animated commentary. She’s all smiles talking about her peers’ art yet gets more timid and reserved when discussing her own. There’s no suppressing her vibrant glow, however, and Niall simply gives up on everything else to let himself get caught in her light.

He takes it all in, from how her lips twitch to keep herself from grinning to how she twiddles her fingers when someone compliments her on her works. Freckles dot the expanse of her cheeks, like constellations that could no longer be contained by the universe that lies within her eyes. He just wants to stare and stare and stare, marvel at the art among the art, and he probably would have had Alena not been dragged away by a few of her colleagues at some point in the night.

It takes a while, but Niall eventually finds his way back to Harry, who’s now sipping on a flute of champagne as he stands in front of one of the artworks. He’s got a pensive look on his face; shoulders square, brows drawn together, and nose slightly upturned. Niall’s lived with the bloke long enough to recognise the show he’s putting on from a mile away.

“Say, Haz,” Niall begins, saving him from dragging out his pretence, “D’you still have that book you won from Oxide?”

“The one about the director? Yeah, why?”

“I’ll take it.”

Harry turns to him, curious, but he doesn’t press on any further. “Yeah, okay.”

///

There are things that Alena has grown accustomed to as of the late, such as Chowder waking her up with slobbering kisses whenever she falls asleep on the sofa, and catching Louis Tomlinson tiptoeing out of Tilly’s bedroom every Saturday morning.

Today is no different, and though these weekly rendezvous have never been a well-kept secret within 4B, Alena indulges Louis in his sneaky exits and lets him slink away in peace.

That is until Alena realises that today might be slightly different after all when she hears a familiar voice as Louis opens the front door.

“Tommo?”

Louis stiffens and grips the doorknob tightly. “Nialler?”

From the living room, Alena halts from sorting her hair out to look back and forth between the two blokes. “You know each other?”

“Erm, yeah,” responds Niall. Despite the glasses, his eyes squint, mind going a mile a minute to discern whether or not his vision is playing tricks on him. A flustered Louis and a dishevelled Alena; put two and two together and Niall comes up with: “Are you two…”

“What? No!” Louis defends.

And then, Alena groans, “Oh god, no.”

“Oh, okay then,” says Niall, smiling lightly, squared shoulders slowly easing up. “Where’s Chowder?”

“In the—” Louis turns around in time to see the dog by the fireplace, busying himself with an eerily familiar lump of cloth, “Shit, my jumper!”

Unbothered (and confident that Louis can deal with Chowder all on his own), Alena grabs her keys, joins Niall out in the hallway and into the lift.

“Wait, so just to be clear,” Niall begins as they make their descent, “Louis and Tilly?”

Alena schools her expression to remain neutral. Except she has never been blessed with acting chops to begin with, so the slight curl of her lips gives her away even though she claims, “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“So that’s a yes then,” he grins. “By the way, I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye last night. Harry, uh…” he rubs at his nose, looking at all the metal confining them before settling with: “He was feeling poorly.”

“Oh?” she frowns, “Is he better now?”

“Hm? Oh— yeah, yeah, I think he’s fine. Just needed to sleep it off I guess.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet as they fall into the routine of getting their mail. Head in the clouds, Alena doesn’t notice how fidgety Niall is being. Had it been any other day, she would’ve picked up on the little glances he’s been throwing at her, the way he presses his lips when she takes out a brown parcel from the mailbox, or how he pulls his hood over his head and draws the strings together when they make their way back up.

Except she’s still reeling from last night’s festivities that Niall fades away in the background for the time being.

“Earth to Alena?” Niall snaps his fingers then waves a hand in front of her face, “Helloooo.”

“Oh, sorry.” She bites her lips and looks up at him with wide eyes. “Do you wanna come in for a bit? Chowder misses you.”

His hand comes up and it disappears underneath his hood as he smiles apologetically. “Maybe later? I gotta check up on Harry.”

“Alright.”

They slowly step backwards, eyes not leaving each other even if their backs have hit the doors to their rooms. It feels almost juvenile, the way they trade shy smiles and mumbled goodbyes. Alena wonders as she enters her flat if there’s ever an end to her schoolgirl crush.

There probably isn’t.

“There’s toast for breakfast.”

Alena looks at the couch and sees Louis with Chowder on his lap. She makes her way over to them, rubbing the dog’s fur before sitting next to him.

“You should try harder than that if you want to woo Tilly.”

“I am not trying to woo Tilly.”

She pats his shoulder as she sits back. “Sure you are.”

Alena ignores his defensive “I’m not!” as she goes through the mail. Only the rectangular package is addressed to her, so she sets the rest of the envelopes down on the coffee table. She tears off the wrapping paper, brows furrowing at the sight of the Wong Kar Wai book that she’s been pining over all those weeks ago. Her curiosity only amplifies when she’s met with a folded piece of paper with her name on it instead of the title page.

Dear Alena,

Please consider this book as a gesture of goodwill. I truly believe that you are its rightful owner. The other book with the prize was about Susan Sontag (did I get it right?). Harry only wanted it to woo a girl. Spoiler alert: he failed. Let me know if you want that one too.

Congratulations on the exhibit, by the way. I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the star of the night. You were practically glowing. I didn’t have the chance to tell you this but you really looked beautiful tonight. I think you look pretty all the time, actually. Especially when you smile. And you smiled a lot tonight, so I really liked that.

I hope you’ll let me make you smile all the time.

Sincerely,

That very fit bloke from 4D

(I’m kidding it’s Niall)

PS: We watched In the Mood for Love the other night. I can see why you love his work. Harry probably won’t let me choose for the next movie night but that’s his loss.

PPS: Feel free to set this on fire.

“What are you waiting for?” says a voice that’s distinctly far from Louis’ brash tone. Alena whips her head around and finds Janelle looking over her shoulder, staring at Niall’s letter. Instead of budging when Alena pushes her away, Janelle points to the door and says, “So? You know where to find him, go!”

“Chowder supports you,” adds Louis, holding up the dog next to his cheek as he flaps his paws in the air.

“But I haven’t got an excuse to go over there.”

“You don’t need one. Come on.” Janelle rounds the couch and grabs Alena by the hand.

“But—”

“No but’s!”

In a flash, they’re right outside 4D, Janelle’s knocking on their door, and Harry’s opening it as Janelle goes back to their own flat.

Harry’s lips curl, a sly, knowing smirk, before looking over his shoulder to say, “Niall! Special delivery!” and then he’s pulling Alena inside. He’s practically a blur as he speeds through grabbing Liam’s arm and shoving him inside one of the bedrooms. A blanket of silence befalls as they’re left alone, with her still lingering by the doorway and him in front of the couch with his hands shoved deep inside his pockets.

“You can talk now!” yells Harry, voice slightly muffled from behind closed doors.

It prompts Niall to shake his head, mutter “Jesus” under his breath, and then he’s ushering Alena back out into the hallway.

“So,” she begins as the door clicks shut, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.

Shyly, he echoes it back. “So…”

“I’m guessing Harry’s feeling better?” she jokes, and he goes along with it with a smile.

“Oh, much. Sleep? Very underrated. Easily one of the best forms of medicine. Highly recommend it. You should try it some time.”

“Hey!” she defends, although the edges of her chapped lips are turning up. “Thanks for the, uh… gift, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.” He shoves a hand back in his pocket, rocking back and forth on the heels of his trainers lightly. “So… uh, have you burned it yet?”

“Don’t really want to.”

“Oh?”

Alena nods, and the silence begins to stretch between them once again.

“Just ask her the fuck out already!” It’s Harry, followed by a harsh shushing from Liam. Alena goes pink and Niall’s throwing his head back with a groan.

“For the love of God.” Niall bangs his fist against the door once. “Sorry about that. Fuck.”

“It’s alright.”

He scratches the back of his neck for a bit before running his hand up and down his arm. “Erm, so, uh… there’s this open-air cinema tonight. Do you uh… maybe... wanna go? With me? Like, on a date?”

Alena smiles softly, nodding, and Niall swears he’s forgotten how to breathe. “I would love that.”

“Finally!” It comes from 4B this time, a synchronous yell from Louis, Tilly, and Janelle. Alena wants to die from embarrassment, but at that moment, they couldn’t have been more right.

Finally indeed.

#1dff #exchanges

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