So Long

When Claire wakes, the house is quiet. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, glinting a golden-orange off the dark television screen. She stretches out along the sofa, groans at the popping noises coming from her joints. The throw blanket slides off the couch when she sits up, and she scrubs a hand over her eyes, wiping away the bleariness.

Her feet ache as she places them on the floor; she bites back a hiss but pushes on in her search to find out where Niall has gone to. She finds him on the back patio, shirtless as he reclines in one of the chairs with his eyes closed. Claire leans against the door-frame and takes in the sight before her. His skin is flushed pink from the heat and sunshine, the sharpness of his jaw accented by shadow. Long lashes fan out over his cheekbones, and the delicate curve of his lips draws her in, makes her want to find out what he tastes like. Her fingers itch with the phantom urge to run through the curls on his chest; she clenches her hands into fists at her sides.

“You’re staring.”

Claire jumps, startled, and slaps a hand to her chest. “Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He cracks his eyes open and turns his head to look at her. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel… better, I guess,” she replies as she sits in the chair next to him.

“Did the nap help?”

“Surprisingly, yes, it did. Thanks. Uh, have you seen my phone, by any chance?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. It’s on the kitchen counter. You left it in the bathroom after your bath.”

Once Claire has retrieved her phone, she rejoins him on the deck and scrolls mindlessly through her social media. Articles of the arrest are all over FaceBook, though they thankfully don’t include her name. She sighs heavily. If the news is already out, then it’s only a matter of time before Tim or her parents find out, and none of them will be pleased if they don’t hear it from her. Niall gives her a questioning look, but she shakes her head, focuses on composing a new group text to her family.

<< Hey, before you find out from FB - yes, my roommates were arrested this morning. I was questioned but released because I’m a good girl who doesn’t get involved in that kind of stuff. I’m fine, I promise. I just figured I’d tell you so I don’t have all four of you jumping my ass if you found out from the internet. Love you!

“Had to let my family know,” she replies to his unasked inquiry, and he nods slowly.

“So what are you going to do now?”

A sharp, humourless laugh bursts out of her, and she shrugs, tucks her phone under thigh to protect it from the sun. “I, I have no idea. Motto of my fuckin’ life, though, I suppose.”

“You, er, you could stay here until you find somewhere else,” he offers; something in his voice sounds off, and Claire stares at him for a long moment before she realises - he’s nervous. He avoids eye contact with her, instead leaning his head back and closing his eyes again.

Claire sighs, shoves her hand through her hair, and averts her gaze to the backyard. “It’s okay. I’ll probably just call my brother later, see if I can stay with them for a while.”

“Don’t they live an hour away without traffic?”

“Yeah,” she admits on a heavy exhale. He’s right. He doesn’t even have to make his point - Claire knows what it is, and she knows he’s right. “I can’t just move in with you, though.”

“Why not? It’s my house.”

“And how would Mully feel about that?”

In response, Niall tosses his phone in her direction. The device bounces off her fingertips, but she manages to catch it before it hits the stone beneath them. A text message thread is on the screen, and she stares at her boss for a moment before reading the last few texts between Niall and Mully. The sight of Mully agreeing so readily warms Claire from the inside out; she hasn’t ever been sure how the man feels about her presence, though obviously he doesn’t hate her if he is willing to let her basically move in with them. The phone makes a swooping sound in her hand; the new message pops up, and though she wants to read whatever Mully’s said, she passes the phone back to Niall before she can give into that desire.

His cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red before her eyes, and Claire wonders what his friend could have sent that would cause that reaction. After a long moment, he types something back then locks the phone, shoving it into his pocket. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Fine. I guess you’ve made a viable argument. But I’ll only accept your offer on one condition: You let me put something towards the bills. I won’t live off your dime. I hated when it was my brother paying for me, and I’m sure I’d hate it just as much - if not more - if it’s you.”

He rolls his eyes, waves a hand in her direction. “We can talk about that later. For now, I think you need to see if you can get back into your apartment long enough to pack your stuff.”



Rhiannon follows Claire up the stairs to the apartment, and the cop outside the door frowns at the extra person. Claire explains that she’s going to need all the help she can get if she’s going to make this quick; he hesitates then nods, pushes open the door. The living room beyond is a mess - bootprints sully the floor, and the posters that usually hung on the walls have been knocked off, the frames cracked and broken. Claire draws in a steadying breath, picks her way through the furniture to her room. She drops the stack of broken-down boxes onto the floor inside the door, turning to the other woman.

“I really appreciate this. I mean, it’s fucked up that this is how we’re meeting for the first time, I’m sure it isn’t the way you’ve ever wanted to meet someone, but... I do appreciate your help.”

She smiles brightly and shrugs. “It’s okay. Really. Louis has talked about you a lot, and Freddie adores you, so you can’t be all bad, right?”

“Glowing praise,” responds Claire with a small laugh.

The officer clears his throat from the doorway, and Claire rolls her eyes in Rhiannon’s direction and begins unfolding one of the boxes, setting it on the end of the bed. Rhiannon doesn’t bother taking the clothes off their hangers as she grabs them from the closet, just tosses them onto the mattress and going back for more. They work in silence to shove clothing into the boxes, set them aside once they’re full. Eventually, Claire moves to her dresser and starts pulling out handfuls of underwear and socks from the top drawer while Rhiannon focuses on the books on the shelf.

It takes less time than Claire would have thought to get everything in her room boxed up - four boxes for just her clothes and another for her books, various knickknacks, and personal electronics and their charging chords. She doesn’t know how to feel about seeing her life so condensed into such few containers. Even leaving New York with nothing but a suitcase full of her clothes hadn’t been so disheartening. Claire moves on to the bathroom, dropping bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash into a shopping bag. A rustling noise comes from the other room, and she steps back into her room to see Rhiannon gathering up all the shoes in Claire’s closet and dropping them into the bottom of a large garbage bag. Claire makes sure to grab her keys from the hook on the wall.

“The least he could’ve done is helped,” Rhiannon grumbles as they finish loading the last box into the trunk of Claire’s car, and she closes the lid as Claire rounds the car to get into the driver’s seat. “I mean, seriously, who just stands there and watches two young women carrying that much shit down three flights of stairs without even an offer of help?”

Claire laughs without humour, holds up her wrist where her FitBit sits. “At least we got our steps in today.”

“There is that,” Rhiannon retorts dryly as she shoves her sunglasses onto her face.

Driving back to Niall’s house is a quiet thing. Rhiannon hums along to the songs that play on the stereo, occasionally changes the track whenever she doesn’t like what she hears, while Claire splits her attention between watching the road zip by beneath the tires and her thoughts. She can’t believe that any of this has happened. She was meant to have a steady job, a relationship by now, anything but drug-dealing roommates and having to live with her boss.

She groans when the sun slips far enough toward the horizon that the visor no longer helps. Thankfully, they’re not too far away from Niall’s, but she loses confidence in her ability to drive while the sun is shining so brightly in her eyes. Claire squints and stretches upwards in her seat, hoping to get enough blockage from the visor that she can finish out the drive without getting into a wreck. It isn’t quite as successful as she would have liked.

Niall, Louis, and Mully are all standing outside by the time Claire parks by the fence. Because they aren’t utter assholes like the cop, they all immediately converge on the car, grabbing a box each once she’s pressed the button to pop the trunk open. Rhiannon grabs the garbage bag of shoes, and Claire’s throat grows tight with appreciation. The fact that they are all so willing to help her without hesitation still sends her head spinning. She takes the shopping bag from the backseat and heads to the trunk to pick up a box.

Once everything is unloaded and stacked neatly against the wall in the guest room, Claire is left alone to put things away. She sits on the end of the bed and stares at the boxes that contain her life. It was easier to move back from New York than it is now, even though it’s certainly a shorter distance. Her eyes burn with tears, and she sniffles, scrubs her hands over her face. She is so tired of crying over the situation. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t stop the tears from spilling out, down her cheeks. So she gives herself permission to cry for a few minutes. Just a couple. Then she’ll put her mask on and face reality.