Room 22A [Narry]

Chapter 8.

Harry could hear the sound of a guitar playing. He paused, his pen hovering over the marking. It’s Friday evening and he is currently sat in his living room, marking the first draft essays of Romeo and Juliet, when he hears it. It is definitely coming from Niall’s flat. Harry frowns. Why wasn’t he working on his second draft of the essay?

He clears his throat, tossing the pen aside and heads over to Niall’s flat across the hall and chaps on his door. Niall obviously couldn’t hear over the noise so he gave a much louder bang and this time, the strumming of the guitar had stopped. There was the sound of clattering and shuffling from the other end of the door and next minute, the door swung open revealing Niall himself. He was dressed in light blue faded jeans and a band tee, his hair flat across his forehead.

Harry raises an eyebrow, as if he were expecting for Niall to know why he was here. Niall caught on quick. “Oh, sorry. Am I too loud?” Niall guessed and Harry chuckled. “Just a little bit.” he answered softly and Niall nods slowly, feeling a little self-cautious standing exposed to Harry in the doorway.

“Aren’t you meant to be working on the second draft of the essay?” Harry challenges and color rose in Niall’s cheeks. “I haven’t even read the book you gave me yet.” Niall admits and Harry laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now, why am I not surprised?” Harry was amused. “I don’t read.” Niall mumbled, feeling even more self-cautious than before. “You don’t?” Harry frowns.

“Well, not Shakespeare.” Niall emphasizes and Harry laughs again. “It does take some time to get used to, the language.” Harry nods and Niall hums in reply, his eyes darting over Harry’s angelic face. “Well, I guess – I guess I’d better get onto this book!” Niall’s enthusiasm caused Harry to smirk in amusement. Harry waved good-bye to Niall and headed back into his own flat, resuming to his marking. His eyes caught Niall’s first draft essay, amongst the other papers and he couldn’t help stealing a quick glance at it, taking it in his hands. Biting his lips, he briefly read through the three-page essay. Niall’s writing was freakishly neat but it still didn’t make up with the amount of errors and miss-read points in his paper. Not only that, he didn’t even have any quotes to back up his statements. “Oh, Niall.” Harry groaned, flicking through the paper again and again as if he was expecting it to be correct if he did this.

The essay was, well for lack of better word, terrible and Harry was too nice to say it to his face. It was obvious that he hadn’t read or paid attention to the book at all. He ran a hand down the side of his face, contemplating on what to do. It was frightening to Harry, how someone as smart as Niall could write such a bad essay and Harry wondered how he had gotten through the rest of his classes. He heaved a deep sigh and sauntered over to Niall’s flat again, chapping on the door in a hurry. “I’m reading it!” Was Niall’s flustered reply and Harry couldn’t help but laugh again. He held the paper up when Niall opened the door and Niall’s face fell. “I know, it’s bad.” Niall said quickly and Harry brushed past Niall, stepping inside.

He glanced around the flat. Loose wires scattered the place in the living room and an amp stood next to the stereo and amongst all his mess, was his guitar. The Romeo and Juliet book lay abandoned on the coffee table, next to his phone and earphones. “I could help you with you.” Harry offers, feeling a little daring. He knew he wasn’t meant to single out a student from others but it looked like Niall desperately needed the help – minus him playing the guitar.

“Would you…help any others for help, if they asked for it?” Niall challenged and Harry gave him a blunt look. “No.”

“You do know that’s favoritism, right –“

“I know what it is.” Harry cuts off, feeling a little impatient. Harry sighs, sitting on the edge of Niall’s cream sofa. “Do you want help, or not?” Harry challenged. Niall hesitates a little before he gave a slow nod, sitting down next to Harry. Their proximity was somehow closer than Harry had expected it be, their arms brushing against each other and it raised goose bumps on his skin, which he ignored. “What’s wrong with the essay?” Niall mumbles, rubbing his tired eyes. He had been working hard all week, even in between football practice and the school dance committee, he was able to make time for his homework – which most students would make an excuse for not even attempting the essay.