So Long

Waking up in the guest room feels weird, Claire thinks as she stares blankly at the ceiling, especially when she knows that the reason she’s here isn’t because of working late the night before. Her phone vibrates on the nightstand, On My Own coming through the speakers a second later, and she reaches over to stop the alarm.

The room is already filled with the gentle light of a rising sun, the shadows from the night receding into nonexistence. The blankets are warm, cosy, and she really doesn’t want to get out of bed right now. Knowing she would be here, she’d set her alarm last night for six-thirty instead of the usual six o’clock; that extra thirty minutes of sleep hadn’t done much good - she is still so tired, she feels it in her bones. But the day beckons, and she can’t exactly hide away from her responsibilities. She shoves back the comforter with a sigh, stretching her arms over her head as she makes her way to the boxes that line the room.

“Everybody’s got somebody, but I just wanna be alone,” she sings quietly to herself as she rummages through the boxes for an outfit, making a mental note to unpack at some point so this doesn’t become a part of her morning routine. “I don’t need no one - yeah, fucking right.”

Claire is still humming under her breath when she enters the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed with hair done and teeth brushed and makeup applied; Niall looks up from his laptop, and she waves vaguely in his direction. Her attention is fully on the coffeepot, however. He lets out a soft huff of laughter at how easily she ignores him in favour of wonderful, rich coffee. Mug in hand, Claire sits at the table and pushes her hair behind her ear.

“Morning.”

This seems to be the start of a new routine, and somehow, the next week flies by. Living with Niall and Mully isn’t as awkward as Claire initially feared - sure, she has to make sure she’s fully dressed and ready for the day before exiting the room that’s become hers in the mornings, whereas it was never a problem when she lived with the assholes she called roommates; even though Niall has seen her in her pyjamas a few times, she prefers for him to not have to continue to see that.

It makes her job easier, too, to be a resident of the house: It grants her the ability to be more on top of the things that need done, like the dishes or grocery shopping, whenever they’re home. There have been a few days that they are gone for promos and interviews, but for the most part, they’re usually sat in the living room, working in silence - Claire keeping up with correspondence and scheduling, Niall on… whatever he does.

He surprises her on the eighth day of her living there, calling her name from upstairs. Claire finishes the text to Deirdre, sends it off, then makes her way to her boss. He stands in the doorway to the Mystery Room, beckons her in. She got a small peek into the room two months ago, but she hadn’t seen beyond a sliver through the door. She hesitates but steps into the room. Surprise doesn’t even cover what she feels as she stares around.

An absurd number of guitars gleam in the sunlight from their stands, and the overstuffed chair in the corner invites her to sit in it, to sink into its plush cushion. Claire doesn’t, though, just stands right inside the door with her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. Niall crosses the room to perch on one of the high-backed stools, reaching for the acoustic guitar closest to him. The melody he plays is nothing like what she heard that day that she stood in the hall - it’s seamless, uplifting, and she finds herself almost missing the ugliness of the discordant notes from before.

“Niall?” she murmurs when it becomes evident he isn’t going to speak. “Why am I in here?”

He shrugs but continues strumming, not looking up away from his fingers on the strings. “Figured you were curious about what’s in here, since you nearly got a look before.”

“You…?”

“Yeah, I know about it. Don’t worry, though. Abby did the same, you just lasted a lot longer than she did. I think it was, I wanna say a month before she sneaked a look.” He finally meets her gaze; his eyes are startlingly clear, the blue vivid and electric, bathed in the glow of the sun. “It was… a game, almost, to see how long you’d manage to not look in here. I’ve kept the door open a lot over the last eight and a half months.”

“So it was a test?” Her heart sinks in her chest - does this mean she’s failed?

“No, of course not. ‘Test’ implies there’s a right and wrong answer. Sit down, Claire, please. You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m making you nervous?” she squeaks as she does what he’s asked. The armchair is just as comfortable as it looks. “I, I have no idea what’s going on right now.”

“Okay, I’ll explain,” he sighs at her confused expression. “This room? Only friends come in here. I don’t even let the cleaners in. That’s why Abby told you when you showed up on the first day not to disturb this room. You were a near stranger, not a friend. But, well, I like to think we’ve become friends, so… Welcome in, I suppose is what I’m trying to say.”

“So I’m not, like, in trouble for listening in that day?”

“Nah, I don’t mind. I mean, I mind that I sounded like shite and you heard, but not that you were listening.”

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d rather it.”

“When I heard you playing, it… it wasn’t good. It was jarring, really, the notes didn’t go together. But I think I liked it better than this,” she admits with a vague gesture to the guitar on his lap.

His gaze is intense and searching as it tracks along her face; his brows are pulled tightly together, and he’s frowning. Claire doesn’t think Niall is upset with her, though, so she forces herself to relax. He nods succinctly, smiling somewhat.

“Yeah, it’s funny how a simple melody can hold so much emotion, isn’t it.”

She aches to ask what he means, but the shadows behind his eyes tell her he won’t answer - or maybe that she won’t like the response. She bites back the question, settles into the chair, and listens as the rhythm changes, slows into something sweeter and softer and more hopeful. Something stirs in her chest with the music; Claire has to blink a few times to get rid of the burning in her eyes, but there is little she can do about the hollowness in her bones.

How long she sits there not speaking while he plays, she can’t recall later. All she knows is one moment, they are both lost in their own thoughts, then the next, the spell is broken by the insistent buzzing of his phone on the table between them. Claire jerks from her reverie when the music ends abruptly. Niall is, thankfully, not paying attention to her, so she runs a finger under her eyes and inhales as steadily as possible to provide herself with some stability. He glances up at her as she passes; she mouths a Thank you, smiles, then gets the Hell away from the things his music made her feel.



Rhiannon plops down on the patio chair next to her, laughing when Claire jumps at the sudden appearance of her friend. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Your thoughts any good?”

“Good enough, I suppose,” replies Claire with a grin.

Louis, Mully, and Niall are all too absorbed in their conversation to pay attention to the women, but Claire doesn’t mind the lack of attention, especially from Niall. It’s been a peaceful day; she and Niall had spent a couple of days in close quarters in London for interviews, only arriving back this morning, so she hasn’t done much beyond change into a pair of yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. Her anxiousness about looking less than put together is nonexistent now - if she’s not on the clock, she doesn’t care.

Since that day a couple weeks ago in the Mystery Room that’s no longer a mystery, Niall has been more open, seems to smile more quickly and brighter. Claire can’t help but wonder what made him so nervous to show her the room. She hasn’t asked, mostly because it will make things awkward if she does, but the thought lingers in the corner of her mind constantly. She hasn’t had a chance to go back into the room, though she wants to. God, does she want to, if only to sit in the armchair and listen to his fingers picking at the strings, evoking emotions she doesn’t remember feeling before.

“Earth to Claire.” Rhiannon snaps her fingers in front of Claire’s face, giggling. “So how’s it going? Living here, I mean.”

“It’s surprisingly not weird,” Claire admits, shrugs awkwardly.

Rhiannon blinks owlishly at her. “Really? That’s all you’re gonna give me? ‘It’s not weird’? I thought we were friends!”

“We’ve only known each other for, like, two weeks.”

“I’ve made friends faster.”

“You are an odd duck, Rhiannon.”

Rhiannon flashes a bright, proud smile and takes a sip of her drink. Claire knows alcohol probably isn’t a good idea, considering the jet lag, but she can’t deny that the looseness in her muscles and the warmth that fills her chest are wonderful things. So she swallows down the last mouthful of her whisky, shoves herself to her feet, and crosses the patio to refill her glass. Somehow, she gets roped into a conversation with the guys; their voices overlap, words and laughter blending in an unintelligible mass of noise, but Claire tries to follow along as best she can, gives input where she feels able.

Her cheeks are flushed, she can feel the heat beneath the skin, and she’s far more drunk than she anticipated being - it’s evident by the way she allows herself to sway into Niall’s side when he cracks a joke that she doesn’t expect, dissolving into giggles. He pushes her away with a laugh, rolling his eyes as she sticks her tongue out at him. Mully says something that Claire doesn’t catch, but she ignores it, too enthralled by how utterly beautiful Niall is. Now that he’s no longer looking at her, she lets herself stare, just a little bit.

Holy shit, I’m in love with you. The thought sends a shiver of something unidentifiable down her spine, and Claire suddenly feels much more sober than thirty seconds ago. She swallows thickly, her words struggling to break free, and stands. Her departure from the table goes unnoticed by the three men, and she breathes a sigh of relief once she steps into the house. Rhiannon passes by, gives her a questioning look. Claire only shakes her head in reply.

As if it was planned, everyone decides to head to bed almost simultaneously. Claire picks up the various beer cans and glasses left around the patio, carrying them into the kitchen to dump them, and Rhiannon kisses her cheek noisily before following Louis up the stairs. Niall locks the doors and windows while Claire finishes rinsing out the glass she used, setting it upside down in the sink. When she turns around, she’s surprised to see him waiting for her.

Neither of them speak as they make their way unsteadily up to the second floor. The heat coming from his body mere inches away is dizzying, more so than the whisky and beer she drank, and it takes all of her willpower to focus on going one step at a time. She comes to a stop outside of her room and turns to Niall. An unreadable expression is on his face; she hesitates then steps closer, stretches up to kiss the corner of his mouth. His head turns minutely, and she exhales sharply as their lips catch slightly. Claire squeezes her eyes closed, drowning in the sense of right and wrong and wanting more, before pulling away.

“Goodnight, Niall,” she whispers, and the weight of his gaze is heavy on her back as she disappears into her room.