Nouis Eating Disorder Fic (Part 1?)
Nov. 7th, 2017 12:53 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rose_tintedglassesHere's a little snippet from my eating disorder Nouis fic. This is just the beginning of the fic, right after Niall leaves London. My inner-voice was yelling at me to make this Niall-centric and @saysthemagpie agreed, so that's what I'm going with because I feel like being self-indulgent.
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“This is me,” Louis gestures to the second door on the left, as they reach the third floor of the apartment building. Niall’s bags feel heavy on his shoulders after the climb, the straps cutting into his skin, no fat on his bones to cushion them.
Louis unlocks the deadbolt, turns the handle, and leans his body against the door, muttering, “She sticks a little sometimes...ah, there we go.” The door bursts open to reveal a small entryway leading into the living room.
“Y’can go ahead and put your shoes by the door here.” Louis toes off his own shoes to demonstrate and Niall follows suit.
Once they're both in their socks, he leads Niall through the entryway, chattering the whole time, “This’ll lead you right into the living room. Straight through the living room takes you to the kitchen. And to the right is the bedrooms and the toilets. Sorry it’s a bit of a tip.”
Niall follows Louis into the hallway with the bedrooms, noting the Doncaster Rover posters hanging on the walls. He had seen more of them in the short glimpse of the living room, along with a guitar propped up near the tv. It’s different from Niall’s old flat and it’s neat artwork; more personal. The way the posters all curl up at their edges leaves Niall feeling uneasy, though, itching to smooth them down.
Niall tries his best to forget about the rest of the mess as Louis opens the first door on the left and motions for Niall to enter. Niall ducks around him, careful not to hit him with the bags. He drops them on the bed, rolling his shoulders in relief.
“So, uh, this is your room,” Louis says from the doorway. It looks cleaner than the rest of the place, blissfully deprived of used mugs and plates. He’s probably going to have to dust, but that’s all right. He doesn’t mind it. “I had an extra set of bedding so I put it on the bed for you and there's this extra shelving unit that my last roommate left behind.” He taps the white shelving unit to his left, just inside the door. “The loo is right across the hall there. I've got my own, so that’s all you, except for when guests are over.”
Niall smooths his hand over the dark blue duvet before sitting down, thankful that Louis thought ahead to set the bed for him. He could really use a kip right now.
“Thanks, mate, again. Really, I don't know how I can thank you enough," Niall murmurs quietly, eyes glued to where he's picking at his nails. He can feel the flush spreads across his face, shame creeping up his throat again. Niall needs Louis now, even though he desperately doesn’t want to. But he was a fucking mess out there by himself. He knows it. Louis knows it. Hell, all of bloody England knows it, thanks to the fucking Sun.
“Hey, stop that. It's no big deal.” Louis sighs, “I know...I know we haven't been that close lately and I don't know, maybe I should have tried harder to keep in touch, but--”
“Louis, no,” Niall interjects, making eye contact for the probably the first time since he arrived at the flat--he needs Louis to understand this. He can't have him taking any part of the blame for the fucked up spiral Niall’s life became. “It was all me, Louis. I got caught up in all of it.” His eyes drop back down to his knobby knees, as he quietly admits, “Thought I was going to be something.”
“Well, hey,” Louis says and Niall can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood like always. “At least you’re not all the way back in the ‘Gar or Donny. You’re just a stone’s throw from Manc, now. Still a big city lad.”
Niall gives him a short chuckle. He knows Louis is thrown by how he's acting, knows he's not the bright, bubbly 18-year-old who left Donny after they finished college with something Bigger in his plans. He's gotten used to feeling like a hollowed out version of himself, a bleached After picture. Louis’s only used to the Before.
“Just take my thanks please, Tommo.” Niall breaks out the old nickname, desperate for some familiarity. Louis's eyes light up briefly, scoffing and waving his hand at him, but doesn't protest further.
A yawn bursts from Niall’s throat. He’s always tired these days.
“God, you must be exhausted from your trip. I'm being a terrible flatmate already, keeping you up,” Louis laughs. “Go on then, have a kip. I'll call you for dinner.”
Niall doesn't bother telling him not to bother, that Niall hasn't eaten a full meal in longer than he can remember. Instead, he moves his bags off the bed and crawls under the duvet, baggy jumper and all.
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TBC. Hopefully, in the meantime, I figure out what I'm going to do with Harry. Is there past romantic narry? Unrequited narry? Narry friends? WHO KNOWS? (not me)
----------------
“This is me,” Louis gestures to the second door on the left, as they reach the third floor of the apartment building. Niall’s bags feel heavy on his shoulders after the climb, the straps cutting into his skin, no fat on his bones to cushion them.
Louis unlocks the deadbolt, turns the handle, and leans his body against the door, muttering, “She sticks a little sometimes...ah, there we go.” The door bursts open to reveal a small entryway leading into the living room.
“Y’can go ahead and put your shoes by the door here.” Louis toes off his own shoes to demonstrate and Niall follows suit.
Once they're both in their socks, he leads Niall through the entryway, chattering the whole time, “This’ll lead you right into the living room. Straight through the living room takes you to the kitchen. And to the right is the bedrooms and the toilets. Sorry it’s a bit of a tip.”
Niall follows Louis into the hallway with the bedrooms, noting the Doncaster Rover posters hanging on the walls. He had seen more of them in the short glimpse of the living room, along with a guitar propped up near the tv. It’s different from Niall’s old flat and it’s neat artwork; more personal. The way the posters all curl up at their edges leaves Niall feeling uneasy, though, itching to smooth them down.
Niall tries his best to forget about the rest of the mess as Louis opens the first door on the left and motions for Niall to enter. Niall ducks around him, careful not to hit him with the bags. He drops them on the bed, rolling his shoulders in relief.
“So, uh, this is your room,” Louis says from the doorway. It looks cleaner than the rest of the place, blissfully deprived of used mugs and plates. He’s probably going to have to dust, but that’s all right. He doesn’t mind it. “I had an extra set of bedding so I put it on the bed for you and there's this extra shelving unit that my last roommate left behind.” He taps the white shelving unit to his left, just inside the door. “The loo is right across the hall there. I've got my own, so that’s all you, except for when guests are over.”
Niall smooths his hand over the dark blue duvet before sitting down, thankful that Louis thought ahead to set the bed for him. He could really use a kip right now.
“Thanks, mate, again. Really, I don't know how I can thank you enough," Niall murmurs quietly, eyes glued to where he's picking at his nails. He can feel the flush spreads across his face, shame creeping up his throat again. Niall needs Louis now, even though he desperately doesn’t want to. But he was a fucking mess out there by himself. He knows it. Louis knows it. Hell, all of bloody England knows it, thanks to the fucking Sun.
“Hey, stop that. It's no big deal.” Louis sighs, “I know...I know we haven't been that close lately and I don't know, maybe I should have tried harder to keep in touch, but--”
“Louis, no,” Niall interjects, making eye contact for the probably the first time since he arrived at the flat--he needs Louis to understand this. He can't have him taking any part of the blame for the fucked up spiral Niall’s life became. “It was all me, Louis. I got caught up in all of it.” His eyes drop back down to his knobby knees, as he quietly admits, “Thought I was going to be something.”
“Well, hey,” Louis says and Niall can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood like always. “At least you’re not all the way back in the ‘Gar or Donny. You’re just a stone’s throw from Manc, now. Still a big city lad.”
Niall gives him a short chuckle. He knows Louis is thrown by how he's acting, knows he's not the bright, bubbly 18-year-old who left Donny after they finished college with something Bigger in his plans. He's gotten used to feeling like a hollowed out version of himself, a bleached After picture. Louis’s only used to the Before.
“Just take my thanks please, Tommo.” Niall breaks out the old nickname, desperate for some familiarity. Louis's eyes light up briefly, scoffing and waving his hand at him, but doesn't protest further.
A yawn bursts from Niall’s throat. He’s always tired these days.
“God, you must be exhausted from your trip. I'm being a terrible flatmate already, keeping you up,” Louis laughs. “Go on then, have a kip. I'll call you for dinner.”
Niall doesn't bother telling him not to bother, that Niall hasn't eaten a full meal in longer than he can remember. Instead, he moves his bags off the bed and crawls under the duvet, baggy jumper and all.
----------
TBC. Hopefully, in the meantime, I figure out what I'm going to do with Harry. Is there past romantic narry? Unrequited narry? Narry friends? WHO KNOWS? (not me)
no subject
Date: 2017-11-08 05:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2017-11-08 06:07 am (UTC)And yes they are high school/middle school buds. I think Niall moved when he was around 12 and Louis took him under his wing. I don't know yet if Niall's been harboring a crush on him. I want to say that he hasn't? Or like maybe he had a little crush back in the day, but it wasn't like an angsty thing and neither of them has been pining all this time. I think this is more a "love that grows" kind of story.
But who knows?