Crooked Heart

Fiona was trying to read, but Niall kept on throwing fruit pastilles at her. They were sat in the student union building, having snagged a pair of armchairs by the window on the second floor where it was almost always crowded, but they’d hit a spot of luck in the second day back from break and there was hardly anyone around.

“C’mon, will you put that down for five minutes and talk to me?”

Fiona closed the book around her finger, gaze sliding up to Niall. “What is it? We met up to study, Niall. And it was your idea!”

“Okay, first of all, it’s only the second day back from break. And second, who actually studies when they make plans to study?”

“I do.”

Niall groaned. “But we’ve hardly hung out since you and Harry…” his face twisted, and he had to eat a fruit pastille and throw one at her before he was ready to speak again. “I just feel like I’ve lost me best mate.”

“Fine,” Fiona said, tucking her bookmark between the pages in place of her finger. “What’s up?”

“Well, I’m graduating in two months.”

“Yeah.”

“You’d think I’d know what I was gonna do, but…”

At his hopeless shrug, Fiona softened a little. But because she at least wanted to keep up appearances, she stretched out a leg and knocked her foot against his knee. “You’ve got that offer, yeah? For the non-profit or whatever it is?”

He nodded, picking at the hem of his flannel. “Yeah, but I have no idea if I’m gonna take it. One of my profs told me about this opportunity in London, said I’d be a good fit…”

“Yeah?”

“Dunno about that either.”

“You’re going to have to start being decisive soon,” she told him.

“This’ll be you next year, Fee, any idea what you’ll be doing?”

“Fuck no,” she replied, without shame. “But you’ve got loads more potential than I have, Niall. And you’ve made more of your time here.”

His frown was immediate, and directed right at her. “You’ve got loads of potential.”

“You sound like my mum. Or worse, Harry.”

“Well, they’re right. If you could do something, anything, what would it be?”

Fiona took a moment to consider, running her thumb down the corner of her book and watching the pages curl and flip rapidly. “Something I like. Something that even if it makes me angry, I still want to be doing for the rest of my life.”

“That’s not very specific.”

“Because I don’t know what it is yet, Niall.”

But when she looked up at him, Niall was grinning. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“I still like what you said.”

She snorted. “Well, why don’t we throw a party?”

Niall cackled, throwing another fruit pastille at her. Fiona caught this one, popping it into her mouth with a grin as she kicked Niall’s knees again. He actually let her get back to her book for a solid ten minutes before he was bored again, and they fell into a steady stream of conversation of the sort which hadn’t occurred in a few weeks. It felt like first year all over again, when Niall would crash into Fiona’s dorm room when he didn’t feel like studying and lie on her bed, eating all of her snacks and asking her who she’d got off with that week. When it was just the two of them, no Stephen, Wren, or even Harry interrupting the flow that she and Niall had.

“When’s your next class?” she asked, when Niall returned from the cafe downstairs with toasties and tea for them both.

“In an hour,” Niall replied, eagerly unwrapping his toastie once he’d handed Fiona hers and sat back in his chair.

Niall’s latest wild tale was about the drama within the Model UN committee something about the treasurer and secretary accidentally hooking up at a party over the weekend. Niall himself was the vice-president, despite having angled for the president position last year, and did more of the work despite his lower rank. He seemed to have gotten over it, though, because everyone knew he was the more capable one by now. It really shouldn’t have made sense, given his track record everywhere else, but Fiona had no doubt in Niall’s abilities. Or, for that matter, his future career in whatever path he chose to follow.

She was mid-bite, trying not to scoff at his description of the awkward tension at the meeting yesterday, when her eyes drifted behind Niall to a smartly-dressed man with unruly blonde hair and a crooked grin, chatting with some of his peers. Niall seemed to have noticed Fiona’s gaping expression, because he stopped talking and looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said, putting down his sandwich. “Has he noticed us? We should leave.”

“I have to talk to him,” Fiona said in a rush, throwing down her food and scrambling to her feet. She forgot for a moment that she was wearing her boots with the higher heels and nearly face-planted, but managed to get her bearings before it happened. “Watch my stuff, yeah?”

“What are you gonna do? I swear, if you even think—”

“I need to make sure he knows it’s over,” she said, cutting Niall off.

His blue eyes settled. “Good.”

Oliver was near the stairs, and it looked like him and his mates were probably getting ready to head down. Fiona didn’t want to be some random student going up to a TA, and tried to catch Oliver’s eye on her slow, purposeful walk over.

But when she caught it, he clapped one of his friends on the shoulder and hurried down the stairs. It wasn’t the sort of hurry where you wanted anybody to follow you, either. But she did anyway, catching up to him halfway across the expansive ground floor of the building. The food area, buzzing with students, was over on the other half of what was essentially one big room, and Oliver was about to duck into the hallway that led to society offices and the like.

“Oi!” Fiona exclaimed, when she was tired of following him, planting her feet and folding her arms across her chest. “What the fuck, mate?”

“Fiona,” Oliver said, her name a whoosh of breath escaping his lips. He scratched his head, smiling sheepishly at her. “Didn’t think you… um, I guess I wasn’t expecting this.”

“You didn’t expect me to seek you out? Talk to you?” she asked, and he nodded. “I just wanted to make sure my text was clear. I didn’t want to do it like that, but I—”

“Text?” Oliver asked, furrowing his brow. That only made Fiona frown, because she hadn’t seen him at all and there was no other explanation for his behaviour. “Oh, right. Jesus, I forgot all about that.”

She was bewildered. Here he was, trying to stay away from her, and he didn’t even remember getting her text. It seemed unlikely that he’d had a very sudden and drastic change of heart, and yet, it seemed that he had.

“Look, I’m not gonna try and get off with you when you’ve got a boyfriend, yeah? You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Tall bloke, curly hair, dumb tattoos?” Oliver asked, quirking a grin. “Ring a bell? Unless some random cornered me in my office and told me to stay away from you.”

Fiona blinked. “He…”

“Ah, so you didn’t know,” Oliver mused, his smile a little more pitying now. Fiona wanted to smack it off his face. “Thought you might not, you don’t seem like the type to let other people fight your battles.”

“I don’t,” she seethed.

It made absolutely no sense. Harry knew Fiona too well, he had to know she’d be upset with him stepping in when it wasn’t any of his business. This was her problem, and the only person that solved Fiona’s problems was herself.

She spun on her heel, too focused on her anger with Harry to be relieved that at least everything had been sorted where Oliver was concerned. Whatever Harry had said — without her permission or knowledge — had apparently worked. If she didn’t want to shout at him so badly, she might kiss him.

Fiona went back upstairs, throwing herself down into the armchair across from Niall and taking an angry bite of her toastie. She avoided his gaze, but it was pointless, because she knew he was going going to ask what happened anyway.

“So?”

“Fucking Harry confronted him.”

“What?” Niall asked, shocked.

Fiona scoffed at her sandwich. “Can you believe the nerve? Thinking I can’t do it myself… what a prick.”

“I don’t think that was what he—”

Fiona wasn’t having it. “Clearly if he went and talked to Oliver without telling me, he didn’t think I’d do it.”

Niall looked conflicted. “I don’t think Harry would do that, Fiona.”

“Then why did he talk to Oliver? How did he even—” she broke off, remembering Harry asking after Oliver, if he was around during the break. “That bastard.”

“What is it now?”

“He must’ve gone right after he found out about it, and didn’t even… well, that explains why he’s been so pleased these past couple of weeks. Because he sorted everything out all on his own, not even considering that I can solve my own bloody problems!”

“Fiona, I think you should calm down about this. Consider what Harry—”

“Calm down?” Fiona repeated, sitting up straighter. “Bloody hell, Niall, you know how much I hate that.”

He grimaced. “I know, but just think about it properly, yeah? Before steam starts blowing out your ears.”

+++

Just as she knew she’d be, Fiona was still upset about the whole thing the next time she saw Harry. But she didn’t want to explode on him; she wanted to try and deal with her anger like a rational adult, not some wild, impulsive teenager who didn’t think things through properly. It was the perfect opportunity to prove to herself that she was getting better, that the way she used to deal with problems wasn’t the best method and now she was learning, improving.

As it was, she ended up giving him the cold shoulder, because looking him in the eye was too difficult. She could hardly even imagine him striding into Oliver’s office (god knows how he’d even found it in the first place) and telling him to stay away from Fiona, probably having to explain who he was and why he saw Oliver as a threat. The whole situation was totally ridiculous, because Harry was the least intimidating person on the planet and he’d probably stumbled over his words more than once and made an incredibly long winded speech about respect. Even if it had worked, and Oliver let her be, it seemed so out of character for Harry to do something like that. Knowing that only made her more confused and upset.

She knew that ignoring him was making Harry frustrated, because his eyes would follow her whenever she entered the room without so much as a greeting, his jaw perpetually clenched and his eyebrows pulled together. Fiona supposed that Harry thought she was in one of her moods, and if he left her alone for a day or two then it would blow over and they would be back to normal. That explained why he hadn’t asked about her behaviour yet, anyway. She had asked Niall not to say anything about that day in the student union when she ran after Oliver, and after dropping the bomb on everyone at his bullshit intervention he felt guilty, and had so far kept his mouth shut.

Allison’s birthday was on Saturday, and Fiona knew she had to do something before then because everyone was supposed to go out for a drink to celebrate — including herself and Harry. It was going to be their first time out in public with their mates as a proper couple, and naturally they were hardly talking to each other. It was her fault, but she had no idea what she was going to do and she was afraid of what she might do if she actually confronted him.

On Thursday night, Harry came home from work well past midnight. Fiona was out on the balcony, her eighth cigarette of the day between her lips as she stared out at the slumbering city beyond. She’d been slipping lately, and was perceptive enough to realize the connection between her smoking and stress, so as much as she wanted to tell herself that everything was fine her habits were telling her that it wasn’t.

The balcony door creaked open and a tired Harry stuck his head out, already frowning. “How many is that today?” he asked, shutting the door gently behind him as he moved to the railing and leaned against it, facing her.

“Too many,” she responded, glowering at the cigarette in her hand instead of at him.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, not bothering with small talk. “I mean, have I done something? We’ve barely spoken all week, Fee.”

She shrugged, flicking her smoke against the ashtray.

“Fiona. C’mon, talk to me. I don’t like it when you shut me out like this, it makes me feel like we’ve haven’t made any progress at all.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked quietly.

Harry stepped forward, brows knitted in confusion. “Do what?”

“Go see Oliver.”

She looked up just in time to see his expression freeze. “How’d you find out?”

“I saw him on campus, and I went over to talk to him like I said I would,” she said, leaning over to stab out her cigarette. “And he told me you’d gone to his office and told him to stay away from me.”

There was a beat of silence as Harry surveyed her, searching for something in her expression, posture, tone, but she didn’t think she was giving much away yet. She’d done well so far with keeping calm, and didn’t doubt that it was throwing him off. “Is that why you’re upset? Because I told some other guy to stay away?”

“No.” She stood up, not liking the way he was looming over her. On her feet she was still shorter, but it didn’t feel like he had all the control over the conversation anymore. “I’m upset because you don’t have any faith in me.”

“W-what?” Harry stammered, eyes going wide. “What makes you think—of course I do.”

Fiona folded her arms over her chest, looking away. She couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into her voice. “Clearly you don’t, if you go behind my back and try to fix everything before I even have a chance to.”

“I wasn’t—that’s not—” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and then over his face. She could hear the resignation in his voice. “I knew you’d react this way.”

That was when she snapped. “So why the fuck did you do it in the first place?”

Harry stood up straighter, eyes hard. She was used to seeing drastic and sudden changes in countenance with Harry, but this one was new. She could see the anger and disappointment in his eyes, and not the guilt she’d been expecting — and hoping for, just a little bit. “You’re my girlfriend, Fiona, I think I should be able to tell another guy to back off!”

“But everything with Oliver happened before we even got together!” she exclaimed, his tone only serving to upset her further. Fire feeding fire, the way it used to be with them, only this time he wasn’t just playing around. “And I told you I’d sort it, but you obviously didn’t believe me! I—I thought you trusted me, Harry.”

Though she wanted to shout and be loud, and had even expected it of herself, Fiona found her voice going very quiet, and her hurt tone was reflected in Harry’s expression. The anger flooded out of them almost as quickly as it had appeared. “I do trust you, Fiona. I just… I didn’t want anything getting in the way. It was going to bother me until I knew for sure he was gone.”

“You still didn’t have a right to do that, Harry, especially without even telling me,” she said firmly. “I don’t need you fixing my problems.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he replied, desperation leaking into his voice. “You’re the strongest person—“

“Cut the bullshit,” she snapped. “You went and confronted Oliver cos you didn’t think I’d be able to do it. You think I’m weak, that I can’t stand up to anyone.”

Harry looked impossibly sad then. “No, Fee. You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’ve no idea how much…” he cut off abruptly, like what he wanted to say was too much. His gaze drifted for a moment before returning to her. "And I didn’t go and talk to Oliver because of you. I mean, yeah, you factored into it, but I went there because I wanted to. It was a selfish move, I admit, but I couldn’t stand the idea of losing you to that pretentious, cashmere-wearing dickhead.”

She wanted to understand him. The look on his face alone made her sick to her stomach, because it was just so fucking genuine. Despite her frustration, that lingering belief that he’d confronted Oliver because he didn’t think she would — or could — Fiona wanted to believe Harry, to see his side of things. She’d always been awful at that, never comprehending the opposing position in the way that others found simple. Fiona knew it had to come from her dad, who had such a restricted perspective it baffled even her. Fiona was open-minded, but her compassion needed work.

Despite all of that, she wasn’t ready to welcome him back with open arms just yet. Now that she’d heard him, she wanted time to think. A day, even, just to let her thoughts settle without him invading her personal space and making her forget any of it had ever happened.

“Just gimme some space, yeah?” she asked, going past him to the balcony door.

“What?” Harry whispered. Her heart stopped for a second at the strain in his voice. “You…Fiona, surely there’s some way for us to—“

“I mean physical space, Harry!” she exclaimed. She knew she had probably been too vague in asking for space, but she couldn’t focus on that right now. There were too many thoughts running through her head, not many of them good, and more misunderstanding was the last thing she needed. “Sleep on the couch or something.”

There was a great sigh of relief behind her, and suddenly hands were winding around her waist and going flat against her stomach, and she could feel Harry’s chest and hips pressed up to her back, his lips in her hair. “Jesus, Fee, you scared the living shite out of me just then.”

“I still don’t want you staying in my room.”

“I know, I just… I thought you were asking me to like, leave leave.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, his arms around her and breath against her hair lulling her into a calmer state. But it wasn’t going to be that easy, he’d still betrayed her trust and gone behind her back, and as much as she wanted to understand his motivation she couldn’t let go of that opinion. “I need to think, okay? Without you here distracting me.”

“I—yeah, okay. Whatever you need.”

Though she could’ve stayed there leaning against him, Fiona forced herself to step out of his arms and pull open the door, then go straight to her bedroom. There was no way she’d be getting any proper rest after what had happened, so she picked out a book at random and plugged in the fairy lights around her bed frame, then settled in to read.

+++

“Happy birthday!”

“Shhh, this isn’t meant to be a big thing!” Allison whisper-shouted, punching Niall in the arm.

They had pushed two tables together to accommodate everyone, and so far it wasn’t as awkward as Fiona had anticipated. Harry was quiet next to her, his glass of water sticking out amongst the pints (and Allison’s Sex on the Beach, courtesy of Niall) on the table, since he’d volunteered to be the designated driver for the night. Harry’s arm was draped across the back of Fiona’s chair and his thumb brushed against her arm every few minutes.

He had stayed at his own house the night before, and she hadn’t actually seen him until he arrived to pick her and Niall up to go to the pub, but he’d given her a soft, chaste kiss and murmured ’okay?’ in her ear, and she didn’t try to pull away or shout at him. She wasn’t so angry anymore, but still felt a little betrayed, and she wasn’t sure what to do next. It seemed like time was her best ally in this one, only she was worried what other damage it might cause if she held him at arm’s length for too long.

But while they were out with their mates, Fiona didn’t want to be thinking about what was going on between her and Harry. Her attention had been caught by Allison and Niall, anyway, because of how obvious it was that he was flirting with her. Nobody at the table seemed to care, because Niall was always like this when he had a few drinks in him, but Fiona was the only one that knew they had history.

It occurred to her, as she paid partial attention to the conversation at the table, that Niall hadn’t been out on a date since Harry’s birthday. Not to Fiona’s knowledge, at least. Though it seemed highly unlikely that he harboured anything more than a passing fancy for Allison (because Fiona doubted Niall was capable of deeper emotional feelings at this stage in his life), it became clearer and clearer the more she watched him that he was interested in her best friend.

“All right, who’s up for round two!” Niall exclaimed. He counted which of them wanted another drink, then dragged Louis to the bar with him.

Once he was gone, Allison — who was sat on Fiona’s other side — leaned over with a cautious expression. “Is it just me, or is he acting weird?”

“Niall?”

“Yeah.”

“Has anything happened between you two?” she asked. “Since last time?”

Allison shook her head. “It’s been awkward, but he’s acting like nothing ever happened.”

“I reckon he’s flirting with you, actually,” Fiona said, and Allison squeaked. “Be careful, yeah?”

She nodded, and they returned their attention to Harry and Cassidy’s argument over whether or not burgers could be considered gourmet. Niall and Louis were back soon enough, and Niall threw an arm across the back of Allison’s chair. She sent Fiona a worried expression. There was nothing Fiona could do, though, short of telling Niall to back off. She trusted that Allison would be able to watch herself, and not do anything she wasn’t ready for. But she also didn’t know where her friend’s limits were when it came to one Niall Horan, so she decided to keep an eye on them just in case.

Halfway through their third round of drinks, Harry excused himself to use the loo. He pressed his lips to Fiona’s temple before getting out of his chair. Fiona tried to avoid everyone’s gaze afterwards, but it was difficult when they were all staring at her.

“What?” she snapped, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“You mad at him or something?” Louis asked.

Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. “What makes you think that?”

“Cos he’s been giving you attention all night and it’s like you don’t even notice he’s there.”

The last thing she wanted was to discuss her relationship with Louis, so she rolled her eyes and decided not to answer him. Luckily, Zayn jumped in with an anecdote about some massive mishap at work, where somebody had misread the company title and messed up this big branding project.

“Sounds awkward,” Fiona said with a grimace.

“Definitely,” Zayn replied, sipping the last dregs of his pint. "Anyone up for another round?"

“I’ll buy this one,” Allison offered.

“Lemme give you a hand,” Niall said, hopping up as soon as she was standing.

“I’m coming too, that girl who was making eyes at me earlier still isn’t talking to anybody,” Louis added, following the two of them to the bar.

That left Fiona with Zayn and Cassidy, who she hadn’t seen in over a week because of her row with Harry. Before that, though, she’d spent a few nights every week at their house, even hanging out with them more than she saw Harry. "Y'know, that jumper looks much better on you than it does on Harry," Zayn mused, and Cassidy hummed in agreement.

Fiona glanced down, not even realizing she'd pulled on Harry's lilac jumper until that moment. It hung loosely on her shoulders, and she had to cuff the stretched-out sleeves even more than he did, but the pastel colour did look good with her dark hair. She didn't know when it had made its way into her closet, because that's where she'd plucked it from before they left, tugging the soft ribbed material on over her grey tee. "Oh, er, thanks."

Zayn must've known something about the fight between her and Harry, Fiona was sure of it. Not only had he been coming to her rescue all night, but he kept on sending her looks whenever Harry did something affectionate.

“He didn’t tell you because he didn’t think you’d approve,” Zayn said, as if he was reading her mind.

“That was perceptive of him,” she replied dryly.

“But he also didn’t do it because he thought you couldn’t,” he continued. “Harry’s just as nervous about this as you are, Fiona, he was trying to get rid of problems before they could arise.”

“It wasn’t his problem,” she insisted.

“I agree with you,” said Cassidy, shooting her boyfriend a look. She placed a slender hand over Fiona’s. “It was stupid and totally a guy thing to do. But that’s all it was. He didn’t mean for you to take it personally.”

“Just because he’s a guy doesn’t mean he should get special treatment for being an idiot,” Fiona huffed.

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Cassidy conceded. “But, the thing is, when you know that they’re worth it… all the trouble, the fighting, you realize it’s not something you can just avoid. That only makes it worse, really. So the fact that you and Harry are communicating is so important, Fiona, and I know it’s difficult, but people are difficult. You can’t expect relationships to be any different.”

Harry got back from the loo then, dropping into his chair with a 'hmph' and curling his hand around Fiona's thigh without so much as looking at her, already telling Zayn he'd seen the alien drawing inside one of the stalls that Zayn had told him to look out for when he got up.

“I need a cigarette,” Fiona said, grabbing her handbag from where it hung off her chair and stomping out of the pub.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Harry followed her, probably sensing that something was up. Fiona stood at the curb, the toes of her boots hanging over the edge of the pavement as she leaned back on her heels.

“Hey,” Harry said, announcing his presence before placing a hand on her lower back. His palm was warm, even through the jumper and t-shirt separating their skin. “Did I miss something in there?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Because we were talking about you, and they said I should forgive you, and you already know about all of that because you were involved.”

Harry hummed. “Right. So… what d’you think?”

“I’m not exactly falling over my feet to snog you, am I?” she answered, taking a drag.

“I don’t want this to be the thing that ruins us, Fee.”

She sighed, hand falling to her side as she flicked her cigarette and watched the ashes tumble to the ground. “Neither do I.”

“That’s—okay, good,” Harry said, moving closer and sliding his hand around to her hip. He kissed her temple, then tucked his chin and nuzzled into her neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, catching his loose hand and slotting her fingers between his. She’d missed him in the last forty-eight hours — just his presence next to her, warm and relaxing. “You can stay over tonight, if you want.”

He mumbled his response against her collarbone, lips brushing over her skin. “My jumper looks good on you, by the way,” he said, standing up a little straighter.

Fiona snorted. “That’s what Zayn said. He thinks I wear it better.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Harry said, but he was grinning.

+++

Mostly thanks to Niall, Allison was hanging off Fiona as they stumbled out of the pub later that night. Louis had gotten off with some girl, and Zayn and Cassidy said they’d find their own way home, leaving Harry to take the rest of them back to the flat. To make things easier, Allison said she’d stay there tonight. Fiona didn’t miss the way Niall’s eyes lit up.

Since Allison was clinging to her, Fiona sat in the back seat. She wasn’t sure she trusted Niall, anyway. But then he took over once they arrived, opening up the door on Allison’s side before Fiona could even unbuckle her seatbelt and holding out a hand for Allison to take.

“You think something’s going on there?” Harry muttered in her ear as they headed for the building.

Fiona shrugged, not knowing if she should answer or not. They rode up the lift in silence, Allison’s face buried in Niall’s neck as she giggled at everything everyone said, including herself. To be fair, Niall was giggling a great deal too. Fiona had stopped drinking after her third pint and was already sobering up by the time they left the pub, and didn’t think she’d be any worse for wear in the morning, depending on how much she slept.

When they were inside the flat, Fiona instructed Niall and Allison to get some water, then ducked into the bathroom. She saw Harry head straight into her bedroom when she glanced over her shoulder, right before shutting the bathroom door. On her own for the first time all night, Fiona took a moment to breathe and wipe the makeup off her face, tug her hair back into a ponytail, and breathe again. She could hear her disappointment with Harry nagging at the back of her brain, telling her to cling to the negativity, and it had Wren’s voice.

She shook her head, running a hand over her scalp and twisting her ponytail. She told herself that she wasn’t that person anymore, the one who got lost in their bad thoughts and stayed angry for no sound reason, not seizing the opportunity to make things better when it was presented to her. She didn’t need to smoke, drink, or fuck away her problems, she faced them with a clear head on her shoulders. Just because she got angry didn’t mean she had to stay angry.

It wasn’t going to be easy, though, with that voice in the back of her head.

With the intention of getting herself a glass of water, Fiona strode out of the bathroom and down to the main room. Instead, she walked in on Niall and Allison kissing in her kitchen. Her hands were curled in his flannel and he had a firm grip on her hips, and it was the last sight Fiona ever wanted to lay eyes on. She suddenly understood quite well how Niall felt whenever he walked in on her and Harry tangled up on the couch.

She turned on her heel and all but ran back to her bedroom, swiftly shutting the door behind her. Harry glanced up, already curled up in her bed with his jeans discarded and a grey tee swapped for the shirt he’d worn out. “What is it?”

“Allison and Niall,” Fiona said, finding her voice more weary than expected. “Snogging.”

“That won’t end well,” Harry predicted.

“No?”

“They’re too different.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow, stripping out of her jeans. “We’re pretty different.”

“But we aren’t, though,” he replied. Fiona lifted the jumper over her head, then removed her bra without taking off her t-shirt. They matched, she noticed, in their grey tees and underwear. Hers covered less skin and were made of lace, but the argument could be made that his were on the tiny end of the male pants spectrum. “We both like to read, we exercise together, we’re a little bit selfish,” he shrugged.

“Those are all the similarities you could think of?” she inquired, going over to her side of the bed and slipping under the covers. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist immediately, pulling her into his chest.

“Oi, ‘m tired. I’ll come up with more in the morning.”

“You do that.”

“It’s good to be a little bit different, anyway,” Harry mumbled, close to sleep now. “Too similar is bad, same as when you’re too different, but if you’re a little bit of both then…”

He let out a soft snore against her hair. For someone who hadn’t had a drop of alcohol all night, she couldn’t believe he was the first one asleep.

Harry didn’t get to sleep long, though, because fifteen minutes later Allison was knocking and opening the door at the same time, a panicked expression on her face. Fiona sat up immediately, pushing a grumbling Harry off her.

“Oh god,” Allison spluttered, rushing across the room.

Harry raised his head when Allison crashed onto the quilt over Fiona’s legs, then quietly made his way out of bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch,” he murmured, meeting Fiona’s gaze once he reached the door. There was concern written across his face, but he wasn’t going to interfere. Whatever his justification was on what things were his business and what wasn’t, Fiona didn’t think she’d ever understand. Or, for that matter, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to predict what would upset or anger him and what wouldn’t.

“What happened this time, hmm?” Fiona asked softly, as Allison took Harry’s spot curled up under the covers next to her, still fully dressed. Fiona turned toward her, pushing the hair out of Allison’s face and running the pad of her thumb across her cheekbone.

“We… it almost happened again.”

“And you stopped it?” she asked. Allison nodded. “It’s okay if you still aren’t ready, love.”

“I know, I just, I’d rather him think I’m not interested,” Allison stumbled over her words, a strain in her voice that tugged at Fiona’s heart. “Does that make me weak?”

“No. You don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to, just like you don’t have to do anything before you’re ready,” Fiona said carefully. “But you should know, he’s not going to figure it out on his own. If you want to be honest with him, and I’ve been learning that it’s the best way to do things, then you should tell him. Just maybe when you’re both sober, yeah?”

Allison, despite herself, managed a weak laugh. “Okay. Can I sleep in here?”

“Course.”

In the early hours of the morning, Fiona was woken by Allison slipping out of the bed and leaving the flat. She’d gotten only two hours of proper shuteye before that, and promptly buried her face in the nearest pillow in an attempt to get some more.

Three hours after that, mostly filled with tossing and turning and wishing Harry would come back into her room so she’d have someone to hold her still and kiss her shoulders until she drifted off again, Fiona stumbled out of bed and pulled on a pair of joggers before heading out to see who else was awake.

She found a familiar sight in the main room: Niall’s eyes glued to the BBC and Harry flipping eggs in a pan. Rather than go to Harry, Fiona sat down next to Niall. She was surprised when his attention pulled away from the telly and fixated on her, and she could see the worry in his eyes despite the smile pulling at his lips.

“Did Allison sleep in your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Did she, ah, what’d you talk about?”

Fiona could tell Niall was trying to play off his confusion, maybe hurt, but this wasn’t a conversation for the two of them. “I think you and Allison need to have a proper conversation. Get it all out in the open.”

“Okay,” Niall said with a chuckle, rubbing his sleep-flattened hair. “Think that’ll do anything, though?”

Fiona glanced back at Harry, whose back was still to them as he focused on breakfast. “Yeah, Niall. Communication is key, right?”

“But d’you know what’s going on with her? Like, why she won’t…”

“If you two have almost gone there more than once, and she’s stopped it more than once, there’s something she’s holding back, yeah?” Fiona replied carefully. “So if you talk to her — and don’t confront her, mind you, just make it a regular conversation — then maybe she’ll be all right telling you. Sound good?”

“I’ll give it a go.”

“And hey, even if it doesn’t work out, at least everything will be clear, right? No more tension?”

Niall sighed, his body sagging as he contemplated the relief. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Breakfast is served!” Harry hollered from the kitchen end of the room.

“You’re supposed to bring the food to us,” Fiona reminded him.

Harry gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m not your servant, Fee.”

“Did you make me a cup of tea?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”