Chapter Text
Just a few blocks from The University of Manchester, in the heart of the student life, stood a building that looked perfectly ordinary from the outside. On the third floor, in Flat 302, life was anything but ordinary. It was the kind of place where the door was always open, smelled like takeaway and you could always hear laughter echoing through the halls. Between all-night study marathons and even later nights out, the flat was a home away from home for friends who were more like family.
That day, like most others, was no different.
The sky was grey, his toast was burnt beyond saving, there were no eggs left in the fridge, and Louis was late. Again. He wrestled with his coat, forcing down the last bite of his sad breakfast into his mouth as his left arm waved around, desperately looking for a sleeve. His right hand flung the plate into the sink, clattering loudly.
He was going to have to sprint to his building, and with his luck, he’d arrive soaked through, because naturally, Louis didn’t know where his umbrella was. And this was only the second week of classes. He’d sworn he’d do better this term. Be organised. Be on time. Be the guy with colour-coded notes and a regular bedtime. But no. He’d lost yet another battle against his alarm clock and now there he was, in a rush, tired and doomed.
He slammed the door shut behind him, choosing to ignore the small fact that he hadn’t actually locked it. Future Louis could deal with hearing Liam go on and on about locking the door. Present Louis was in survival mode. Living on the third floor had seemed like a fun idea, until he remembered he was a smoker with a talent for forgetting things and a chronic aversion to stairs.
Midway down, he patted his pockets. Cigarettes? Check. Clipper? Check. Phone? Check.
He made it to the second floor in record time, socks slightly slipping in his Vans, just as a voice he knew echoed up from below, unmistakably Niall’s. Louis grimaced. He really hoped Niall hadn’t discovered the empty yogurt container in the bin. He’d meant to replace it. Eventually.
“I’ll give you a set of keys, we’ve got a spare somewhere, I just need to find it,” Niall was saying, his voice growing louder with each step up, as Louis descended.
They collided in the hallway on the first floor, almost literally. Niall looked freshly showered, annoyingly cheerful, and fully dressed for class, despite the fact his first lecture wasn’t for another hour. Louis hated him a little for that, and made no effort to hide it.
Next to him stood someone Louis didn’t recognise.
“Fuck, is this the new guy?” Louis blurted, staring accusingly at Niall like he’d just brought home a stray. The stranger tilted his head in silence, not helping his case. “I gotta go. Zayn has the key, though!” Louis added.
“Louis,” Niall started. “This is—”
“I have no time, Niall, get the fuck out of my way.” Louis slipped between the two of them and thundered down the rest of the stairs, skipping the last few for dramatic effect.
Louis checked his clock, class had started five minutes ago. If he walked, he’d take fifteen; if he ran, maybe ten. But he wasn’t exactly a good runner, and of course, it was raining. He’d have to run either way, but he also desperately needed a smoke, and running with a cigarette wasn’t exactly a good plan. Fine, fifteen minutes late it was. That was still acceptable. Probably. Maybe. With a deep breath and silently telling himself you can fucking do it, maybe the teacher hasn’t arrived yet , he shoved the door open and stepped out.
The air was sharp with cold, and the pavement slick beneath his shoes, but it wasn’t pouring, just raining enough to frizz his hair and give him the charming look of a drowned rat. He reached for the hood of his sweatshirt, only to realise, with a groan, that he’d picked the one without it. Of course. Rolling his eyes at the universe, he ducked under the nearest tree, trying to shield himself. Cigarettes, clipper, smoke, then run to class. Perfect plan. He patted his pockets again to see if he had any mint candy left. He didn’t. He’d have to wait until Friday to nick some more from the pub.
A few minutes and one slightly blackened lung later, Louis flicked his cigarette to the ground. He prepared to run, and then froze, mouth falling open in a silent, horrified gasp. “Fuck.”
Without another word, he spun on his heel and charged back towards the building. Up the stairs he went, faster than before, though far less gracefully. By the time he reached the third floor, he was panting. He grabbed the doorknob. Locked. “Fucking Niall,” he muttered through gritted teeth. Apparently, someone still had a fear of Liam’s scolding.
He patted his pockets in a panic, no keys. Not in his coat, not in his jeans. Of course, they were in his bag. The same bag with his laptop, his class notes, and his umbrella. The same bag he had forgotten upstairs and had to come back to get.
He rang the bell like his life depended on it. Once, twice, and then five more times, all in a row, pausing only when the door finally swung open to reveal Niall’s unimpressed face.
“My bag!” Louis blurted, brushing past him. Niall sighed and followed at a slower pace.
In the hallway, Louis came to a sudden stop. There, leaning against the doorframe of what was now apparently their bedroom, was the new guy. He had a bandana in his hair and was wearing an oversized sweater, just his socks on. His socks would probably be filthy by the end of the day since the floor hadn’t been cleaned over the weekend. Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn had spent the weekend getting drunk and making up for all the time they’d missed each other. His arms were crossed, his expression unreadable. Well, mostly unreadable. His eyebrows did all the talking as he glanced inside the room.
Louis spotted his bag on the floor, buried under a pile of yesterday’s clothes, some scattered books, and an ashtray that had seen better days. “Here it is,” he muttered, grabbing it and slinging it over one shoulder.
The guy at the door didn’t say a word, just raised his brows a little higher. Louis followed his gaze towards the bed across from his, which technically should’ve been empty. Instead, it was completely overtaken by Zayn’s stuff.
“Shit. It’s Zayn’s. Just toss it all at my side,” Louis waved it off.
From behind, Niall poked his head into the room. “Aren’t you late?”
“Shit!” Louis yelped again, spinning on his heel and bolting for the door, leaving Niall, the new guy, and Zayn’s stuff behind.
His feet moved on autopilot. Down the stairs, out the door, dodging puddles and slow walkers. He weaved through clusters of students who had clearly never heard of urgency, burst into the building, and entered class sweaty, slightly breathless, and looking damp. He caught the professor’s disapproving glance and the collective silent judgment of his classmates. Standard. He slid into a seat at the back beside Liam and finally allowed himself a breath. Just one. Five minutes later, his body would start itching for another smoke anyway.
The class dragged on. Louis floated somewhere between consciousness and dreams, his eyelids heavy, blinking once, twice, a desperate third time, trying to catch up with the professor’s words. Occasionally, Liam jabbed him with an elbow. When it was all finally over, they wandered outside and found one of the few dry benches on campus. The rain had given up for now, leaving the sky sulky and grey. Louis lit a cigarette to celebrate.
“How can you be late when you literally have one fucking class a week?” Liam asked, voice full of scorn.
Louis crossed one leg over the other and exhaled smoke. “Piss off,” he said with a grin. “I went to bed at two. Didn’t hear my alarm. You should’ve woken me.”
“I didn’t sleep home,” Liam replied, pulling out his phone. “I was at Jess’.”
Louis frowned. “I already hate her.” Liam turned to look at him, jaw dropped. “What? She’s the reason I’m late.”
“No, mate,” Liam deadpanned. “ You’re the reason you’re late.”
“If you could remember you have a home…” Louis twisted on the bench to face Liam. His cigarette burned slowly between his fingers and his Vans were still wet, squelching slightly with every tiny shift in position.
Liam, as unbothered as always, shrugged and threw an arm around Louis’ shoulders. “Just say you miss me.”
Louis didn’t reply, because he wouldn’t give Liam that taste. He took a long drag, eyes pointedly forward, exhale dramatic enough to signal that yes, he might miss Liam a little.
“How’s your dissertation?” Liam asked, tone innocent, phone already back in hand like he hadn’t just committed a federal crime.
Louis let his head fall back with a groan. “Change the subject, for Christ’s sake.” His cigarette trembled slightly as he sighed, then took another puff. Liam laughed. “Don’t we have anything to talk about other than Law? We used to have fun,” Louis continued.
“We do have fun. At least, I do,” Liam said. “You miss all the fun bits while you’re busy being pissed off.”
Louis smirked around the filter of his cigarette. “Speaking of being pissed… guess who I ran into this morning.”
Liam tilted his head, genuinely trying. “Zayn’s ex? That guy from the pub who kept saying you looked like a younger Norman Reedus?”
Louis waved a hand. “No, no. The guy.”
“What guy?”
“The fifth guy. New roommate. The guy.”
Liam blinked, then made a sound of vague recognition. “Oh. So he finally showed up?”
“Yep,” Louis confirmed.
“What’s he like?”
“I don’t know. Tanned.”
“Tanned?” Liam blinked. “That’s your review?”
“In October, Liam. October. The guy is tanned.”
Liam snorted, scrolling through his phone. “What did Niall say his name was again?”
“No fucking clue,” Louis muttered, pulling his coat tighter around him. “All I know is he looks like someone who’s never had to share a bathroom.”
“Harry,” Liam said, holding up his screen. “Harry Styles. That’s the name on the contract.”
Louis narrowed his eyes at the name. “Course it is. Sounds like someone who’s tanned in October.”
Liam chuckled. “You sound like you have an opinion already.”
“He didn’t say a word to me, just stood there awkwardly,” Louis muttered, flicking the end of his cigarette and tossing it carelessly onto the pavement. Before it even landed, Liam elbowed him sharply, making him groan as he leaned over to pick it up. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you should not litter.”
“It’s not litter. It’s just a cigarette. Degradable cigarette,” Louis said, feigning seriousness.
“Sure about that?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “So… Harry Styles. What do we know about him? Besides him being mute and awkward.”
“He’s Niall’s friend, he can’t be that awkward,” Liam reasoned, stretching his legs out in front of him. “We know he’s English. We know he’s tanned. What else? We know he skipped the entire first week of class.”
“Was probably lying on a beach with a cocktail in hand. Tanning.” Louis rolled his eyes, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie over his cold fingers. “Do we know what he studies?”
“I don’t think it’s econ. Niall doesn’t hang out with econ nerds from his class,” Liam added with a smirk, but then his gaze shifted, squinting at something in the distance. “Wait—look over there. Isn’t that Zayn?”
Louis followed his gaze, stretching his neck to see past a group of students. The guy Liam meant was leaning against a wall, laughing with a group of people, all in black. “No. What the hell? That’s just some guy with tattoos and black hair.”
“I think it is. Look better.”
“Liam. Jesus. Who do you think knows Zayn’s appearance better—you or me?” Louis shook his head, settling back on the bench. “That’s just a regular guy. Look at him, being social. Zayn doesn’t do that.”
“Zayn has friends, you know.”
“We don’t count,” Louis replied with a laugh, flicking his thumb over his lighter even though he wasn’t planning to light another one just yet.
“We do count,” Liam said, exasperated. “And he’s got those other friends too, from History. The weird ones who argue about Napoleon.”
Louis snorted. “You’re just mad you haven’t seen him in three days.”
“Exactly. It’s a record.” Liam kept his eyes fixed on the maybe-Zayn figure. “I miss him.”
“That’s probably why every handsome man now makes you think of him,” Louis teased, giving the guy another glance. He had to admit—if you squinted, the resemblance was there.
“He was home yesterday,” Louis added casually. “But guess who wasn’t?”
“I love how you say Zayn was home like he lives there.”
“He kind of does.”
“Kind of,” Liam agreed with a soft laugh.
“He sleeps there more than you do,” Louis pointed out, smirking.
Louis patted his pocket again, debating whether he wanted another cigarette. The campus buzzed with movement. He scanned the crowd idly, eyes drifting from one student to another, trying to find anyone who looked remotely interesting.
“Where do you think Zayn will sleep now that the new guy’s arrived?”
“Probably the sofa,” Liam replied without looking up, his attention now claimed by his phone. “Has he tried switching roommates? I mean, if that guy really stinks, he should just try to get a new one.”
“Then how would he get to see us? Just let him crash.”
“What? I don’t mind at all. I love Zayn. I’m just saying—he should’ve rented the room instead of choosing the dorms,” Liam said, still scrolling, eyes glued to Instagram. “I love Zayn.”
“Of course you do. He’s my friend.”
Liam snorted at that but didn’t argue. Louis returned his gaze to the passing students, watching backpacks bounce and trainers slap wet pavement.
“What about Harry?” Liam asked after a beat. “How’ll you feel sharing a room?”
“I don’t actually give a shit,” Louis said, casual. “As long as he’s cool, we’re cool.”
They had lunch together at the food court, and while Liam trudged off to his next class, Louis made his way to the library. His first tutoring student was already waiting in one of the booths, surrounded by open books and highlighters. Louis stepped in, let the door fall shut behind him, and dropped his bag to the floor before sinking into the chair beside him.
“William, good afternoon,” he greeted, ruffling the younger boy’s hair with a mischievous grin.
William ducked, but not fast enough. “You’re late,” he grumbled.
“Barely,” Louis retorted, dragging the open book closer to scan the pages. “What are we studying today, William?”
“Family law.”
“Sounds fun,” Louis lied.
Tutoring was Louis’ main source of income, so he didn’t complain—not out loud anyway. Still, it was getting harder to fake enthusiasm year after year. The students kept getting more serious, more anxious, less interesting. He liked the ones who challenged him, the ones who couldn’t focus or didn’t give a damn, the ones he could somehow reach and shape. William was not one of those. He was sharp and punctual. Still, Louis was annoyingly good at his job, even with students like William.
Hours passed. The library had started to empty, the lights now feeling unnaturally bright in the quiet of evening. His stomach growled. When they finally stood up, Louis stretched his back and glanced at his student.
“You should go to a pub,” he said casually, watching William pull on his backpack.
William blinked. “Are you suggesting we go out?”
“Hell, no. I’m suggesting you go out. Have a bit of fun. Forget the textbooks for a night.”
“Why’d I do that?” William asked, holding the door open. Louis followed, lowering his voice as they stepped into the heavy hush of the main room.
“So you’d have fun?!”
“I have fun,” William whispered defensively.
“Doubt it.”
“I do.” He stopped abruptly, turning to face Louis with a serious look. Louis just rolled his eyes.
“Find yourself some lads, a girlfriend, I don’t know, mate. A guy needs more than some books and a hand,” Louis said, throwing an arm around William’s shoulder with a grin.
“Speak lower!” William hissed, clearly mortified.
Louis left the library feeling drained. It was nearly seven, and the cool air scraped his throat raw. Even though it was Monday, he was already dead on his feet and the thought of a pint was tempting. Hell, he would’ve even taken William up on the offer if it meant a bit of distraction. He lit another cigarette as he walked, watching the pack with a grimace. Just two left.
By the time he got there, the warm air inside felt like the only good thing that day. The stairs, however, looked impossibly long. When he finally pushed open the door to their flat, he was greeted by the same old mess: boys draped over the sofas, cups scattered, FIFA loud on the TV speakers.
“I’m fucking hungry. Where’s dinner?” Louis announced, throwing himself dramatically onto the nearest sofa, right onto Zayn’s lap. Zayn barely flinched, too caught up in beating Liam to notice. “Zed, you have to get your things from my room,” Louis continued, looking at him. “The new guy arrived today.”
“I told him already,” Niall said from the floor, where he was leaning against the coffee table. “We ordered pizza. There’s no food in the fridge.”
“What? We went grocery shopping last week,” Louis groaned. “I don’t have money yet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go,” Liam offered, eyes still glued to the screen. Zayn let out a triumphant shout as he scored again, swinging his arm so carelessly that Louis had to jerk his head out of the way to avoid a nose injury.
“Oh, Liam, so you actually are home now! That’s a surprise,” Louis muttered. “Where’s the new kid?” he asked, scanning the flat.
“He’s out,” Niall replied, stretching with a groan as the match wrapped up, then dragging himself to the kitchen. The match ended with a groan from Liam and a smug chuckle from Zayn as the controller clattered to the floor. “Zayn, where are your keys? You have to give them to Harry,” Niall added.
“They’re in my backpack. In the dorm.” Zayn smiled smugly, not even pretending to care, his victory still sweet.
Niall headed straight for the fridge, fully in view behind the counter that split the kitchen from the living room, right next to the table. “Well, bring ’em tomorrow,” Niall screamed like they weren’t just a few steps away. A moment later, his voice came again, annoyed. “Louis, you finished my yogurt. And the milk.”
Louis grinned unapologetically. “Sorry, I’ll buy you some more.”
“Why does a fucking pizza take so long?” Niall slammed the fridge shut. “I can’t even eat cereal. There’s no fucking milk.”
“For fuck’s sake, shut up about the milk,” Louis shouted from the sofa, turning his head in Niall’s direction. “Just sit your arse down and wait.”
Niall stomped back into the living room and flopped onto the sofa next to Liam. Then the doorbell rang. Everyone froze. Niall shot up, crossing the room in a hurry to the intercom. “Come in.” He turned back, disappointed. “It’s not the pizza. It’s Harry.”
A collective sigh echoed through the flat like they’d all been holding out hope.
“Does he talk?” Louis asked, shifting lazily on the sofa. Niall frowned at him, his mouth slightly open like he didn’t understand the question. “He didn’t say a word this morning,” Louis clarified, raising an eyebrow.
“Louis said he has a tan,” Liam added, barely hiding the grin pulling at his lips.
Niall scoffed. “He lived in LA. He just came back to England. And yeah , he talks.” He crossed the flat, pulling the front door open and leaning lazily against the frame as he waited. The staircase outside creaked faintly with the weight of someone climbing. “He’s nice,” Niall added, without looking back. “You’ll like him.”
“Told ya,” Liam muttered with a smirk, chin gesturing towards Louis.
A few seconds later, Harry appeared in the doorway. He was holding a plastic takeaway container, his curls pushed back with a blue bandana. He wore a pink shirt, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold or maybe the climb. Louis blinked, not quite ready for the colour combo.
The flat fell into a moment of complete silence.
Now that he had the time to properly examine Harry, it was impossible to miss how ridiculously tanned he was. Louis wanted him to leave so he could tell Liam that he was right. The boy was in nothing but a shirt, while Louis, on the other hand, was wrapped up in a jumper. Because it was fucking autumn, for God's sake. Harry had those green eyes and that boyish face you’d expect from someone who'd just walked into uni and only last week figured out what pubes were. And, having spent enough time with Niall, Louis could tell that if Harry was one of his friends, he definitely had money to burn.
“Hey. I’m Harry,” he said simply. His voice was low, rough, and quieter than expected.
“This is Liam,” Niall said, pointing to the one sprawled alone on the big sofa. Then he gestured to the other side. “Zayn. And you met Louis. He’s your roommate.”
“The messy one,” Harry replied, eyes scanning the room before heading to the table with his food. His accent was smooth and odd, a strange blend. Not quite British, not quite American.
Louis’ jaw dropped slightly. “Excuse me?” he snapped. Harry had already set his container down and was opening it. He didn’t look up. “That was not my mess!” Louis gestured wildly, pointing behind him. “It was Zayn’s !”
“My bad, mate,” Zayn mumbled, picking up the controller, completely unbothered.
Harry simply said, “Sure,” and sat down on a chair to eat like it was nothing.
Louis stared at his food, some suspicious salad with cheese, nuts, and mango . He scrunched his nose. “What even is that?”
“We ordered pizza,” Niall offered, standing beside Harry. “If you want.”
“Nah, ‘m good. Thank you.”
The boys exchanged a collective glance, brows raised, shoulders lifted. Liam hid a chuckle. Zayn didn’t bother hiding his smirk. Louis flopped back onto the sofa and grabbed the controller, determined to win, but too distracted by the quiet newcomer chewing on leaves at the table.
By the time the pizza finally arrived, Harry had disappeared into the bathroom for a shower.
“He’s weird, Niall,” Louis muttered, his mouth half full of pizza, grease glistening on his fingers. He took another bite, followed it with a swig of beer, and let out a satisfied sigh. “Salad, my arse.”
Niall, who was mid-chew and still managing to talk, countered, “He’s not. He’s just quiet.”
“You’ve known him since when, again?” Zayn asked, reaching for the beer pack and cracking one open.
“Since I was a kid,” Niall said, brushing crumbs off his hoodie. “Our families are really close. I’d see him every summer.”
“What does he study?” Liam asked.
“Music. Actually,” Niall paused, like he was pulling info from the back of his head, “his dad’s some sort of sound engineer or producer, I think? Works with bands, famous people and all. Lives in LA now.”
The boys exchanged looks as Niall continued.
“His parents split up two years ago, and after that, Harry moved to LA as soon as he finished secondary school. I hadn’t seen him since. It was kind of a surprise when he texted me saying he was coming back. Studying in Manchester. And then his mum called my mum and asked if we had space in the flat.”
“ His mum ?” Louis raised an eyebrow.
“How old is he?” Zayn echoed, curious too now.
“Same as me, twenty,” Niall replied, unfazed. “His mum just... trusts me, I guess. She wanted him to stay focused.”
“Oh, brilliant plan,” Louis said with mock sincerity, “Stick him in a flat with four uni students who think beer counts as groceries.”
“He’s fun, you’ll see. Just give him time.” Niall reached for another slice, completely confident in his verdict.
Louis snorted, wiping his mouth. “Sure, he looks like the life of the party.”
After demolishing several slices of pizza, Louis managed to lose two FIFA matches—first to Niall, then to Zayn. At least he finally beat Liam, which he celebrated loudly. Harry never reappeared in the living room. Not even for a peek. Around eleven, Zayn finally gathered his things to leave, but not before giving Louis an overly dramatic pout and wrapping him in an exaggerated hug like they were parting ways for life.
After a beer, he made himself a cup of tea, because one thing had nothing to do with the other. He’d been raised with a cuppa before bed, and that was never going to change. So, cup of tea in hand, Louis headed for his room, shoulders heavy and eyes already begging for sleep. The lights were off, but he didn’t care. He squinted as the overhead light flickered on, like it was just as tired as he was. What greeted him nearly made him drop his mug. All the crap from the floor was piled up on his bed. It looked like a mountain of ignored laundry, books, and God knows what else. Louis let out a sigh so loud it could’ve been heard across the street.
But when Louis turned towards the other bed, his body went still, hit by an even bigger surprise. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he blurted out.
Harry blinked awake, clearly unfazed. “What?”
“Put some fucking clothes on, mate! Jesus Christ! At least pants. Underwear. Something!”
Harry casually tugged the duvet over his body, raising one brow. “I sleep naked.”
Louis threw his arms in the air. “No. You used to sleep naked. Now you sleep fully clothed . What the fuck?!”
Harry yawned, utterly unbothered. “Have you never seen a cock before?”
“I have now, apparently.” Louis groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes and turning his back to Harry as he heard the boy get up and rummage through his nightstand, and could only hope he was looking for clothes. Hopefully, he’d had the same idea Louis had, stashing underwear in the drawer, since the shared wardrobe was way too small for two. “Not even a dinner first, just a surprise dick jump scare. Perfect.”
He caught a glimpse of Harry pulling on boxers out of the corner of his eye. Tanned legs, of course. Because of course he had tanned legs to match the rest of his body. Why wouldn’t he?
Harry slid back under the covers, hugging his pillow like nothing had happened. “Get over it. And tidy your side of the room, it looks like a bin exploded.”
Louis grabbed clean underwear from the pile on his bed, muttering, “It’s my side of the room.”
“If it were mine, it wouldn’t look like this.”
“Yeah? Well, get used to it.” Louis grabbed his towel and stomped towards the door. “And when I come back, you better be covered, or I swear to God I’m cutting it off.”