Chapter Text
The bus lurched sharply over a pothole, jostling Niall hard enough that his shoulder knocked against the window pane. He hissed softly under his breath, rubbing absently at the spot before letting his head thunk back against the cool glass with a tired sigh.
Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of grey and gold. Evening rain had turned the roads glossy beneath the streetlights, every passing car smearing into watercolor through the fogged windows. The bus smelled faintly of damp coats, wet pavement, and stale coffee. Somewhere near the back, someone was eating crisps obnoxiously loud, each crunch grating against the inside of Niall's skull.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine he was anywhere else.
His entire day had felt wrong from the moment he'd woken up.
Alby had another nightmare the night before, thrashing and mumbling, begging someone to get away. Niall had barely managed two hours of uninterrupted sleep before he'd been startled awake by the frantic movement beside him, the bed shaking hard beneath Alby's weight. He'd reached out instinctively, still half-asleep and disoriented, trying to soothe him awake before things escalated further.
A fist to the stomach had been his reward for it.
The bruise sat low beneath his ribs now, dull and aching, pulsing painfully every time he lifted his arm the wrong way or twisted too suddenly. Alby had apologized afterward in that devastated, horrified way he always did, eyes glossy and voice trembling like he was the one injured. Niall had spent the next twenty minutes comforting him instead.
Sleep evaded him after that.
He'd lie awake staring at the ceiling while exhaustion hollowed him out from the inside, his body begging for rest his mind refused to give him. Every time he started drifting off, his thoughts circled back into his infinite loop of anxiety.
Deadlines. Emails. Alby. Money. Ruben. Ruben. Ruben. Ruben.
Always Ruben.
By the time his alarm finally went off, Niall already felt half-dead.
Work had only made it worse.
He'd nearly fallen asleep at his desk three separate times before noon, catching himself jerking awake with his forehead centimeters from his keyboard. His supervisor had noticed immediately, of course. She'd been looking for a reason to pull him aside ever since his impromptu no-show three days earlier.
The reprimand still sat sour and heavy in his stomach.
"You need to be a part of this team, Niall." Her arms had been folded tightly across her chest, her expression pinched with restrained irritation, like she was disciplining a difficult child instead of speaking to another grown adult. "We're all under pressure, and I am expecting you to do your part."
Niall had apologized automatically. His head lowered, hands clasped together in front of him to show his sincerity, empty promises spilled from his mouth on instinct.
It won't happen again.
I'm sorry.
You're right.
I'll do better.
He hated his job. The thought alone made his temples throb.
With a quiet exhale, Niall pressed the heel of his palm against one eye until little white stars burst behind it. His fingers drifted absentmindedly toward the cuff of his sleeve, fidgeting with one of the buttons there.
Niall's gaze lowered unconsciously toward himself. The crisp white button-up stretched neatly over his frame, sleeves rolled once at the forearms now after a long day of mindless work. A navy tie hung loosely at his throat, slightly crooked from where he'd tugged at it throughout the afternoon. Even the tan slacks still held their sharp crease despite the long day.
Ruben had picked this out for him.
In fact, Ruben had been picking out his clothes every morning since Tuesday, directing each outfit over text messages like Niall was his mannequin.
Niall still remembered stumbling out of his bedroom half-asleep that first morning, expecting chaos—dirty dishes, laundry piles, shattered ceramic pieces scattered in the kitchen from the mug Ruben had thrown against the wall.
Instead, the flat had been spotless.
The pile of dishes in the sink was washed and left to dry on the dish rack. The pieces of the mug had disappeared, and the coffee stain was gone. Niall even suspects that his carpet had been vacuumed as it looked suspiciously crumb-free.
And hanging carefully from the back of his closet door had been an outfit. A wine-red button-up, paired with tan slacks folded neatly on his dresser, a brown pair of derbies sitting next to it. Niall remembered just standing there staring at it stupidly, blinking sleep from his eyes while the washing machine hummed faintly somewhere deeper in the flat.
He'd found breakfast waiting for him on the kitchen island after that. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrapped carefully in cling film. Coffee prepared exactly the way he liked it: One sugar, a splash of cream.
Niall's mouth twitched faintly at the memory before he could stop it.
He hadn't heard Ruben's voice since Monday, having woken up alone that Tuesday morning. He'd only received brief, vague messages spread throughout the day whenever Ruben apparently remembered Niall existed.
Tuesday, 2:14 p.m.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
Eat your lunch. Don't throw it out.
Wednesday, 11:36 a.m.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
Drink water, you dry cunt
Thursday, 10:18 p.m.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
Go to sleep before you keel over
Friday, 6:50 a.m.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
Bring an umbrella, the rain's stoatin
Annoyingly bossy little commands that should've irritated him far more than they actually did. Instead, Niall found himself checking his phone constantly between tasks, waiting for the next one to appear. It was stupid. Especially because Ruben never said anything substantial.
Still, Niall missed him terribly, even though it had only been three days.
Three days since Ruben had slept in his bed, the weight of him crowding against Niall's back. Since he'd had his low, rough voice dripping out of his phone into his ear late at night, dragging him gently toward sleep while fatigue loosened all the tight knots in his chest.
Those nightly calls had been paused, just as he was finally settling into a somewhat reasonable sleep schedule. Between their raunchy midnight conversations and Ruben practically dictating his bedtime, Niall had actually been sleeping comfortably at night.
Before Ruben came back to his life, sleep had always felt unfulfillingly shallow and frustratingly restless. Niall spent most nights tossing beneath tangled sheets while his mind raced itself in endless circles until sunrise. On the rare occasion he did manage to drift off properly, he'd wake exhausted anyway.
But Ruben somehow knew how to quiet him. A simple Go to bed, Bambi wrapped around him heavier than any sleeping pill ever could.
Niall resented how much he missed that right now.
The bus rattled violently again, dragging him from his thoughts as it slowed toward another stop. More passengers shuffled aboard, bringing another wave of cold air and rainwater in with them.
Niall barely noticed. His thumb hovered absently over Ruben's number.
He shouldn't call him. Niall should take this strange distance between them as a sign, elongate that space until it was impossible to cross.
He waited as the phone rang.
"Bambi?" The low rasp of Ruben's voice settled through him instantly, making something in Niall unclench.
"Hi."
Construction noise crackled loudly through the speaker. Metal clanged somewhere in the background, followed by the muffled shout of another worker.
Ruben exhaled sharply through his nose. "Hold on."
Niall could hear more shuffling and a door creaking open, then shut again. The noise dulled considerably after the sound of a latch locking.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Niall adjusted the phone closer against his ear, curling deeper into the corner seat of the bus as he watched a drop of rain dance down the window pane.
"I dunno," he admitted quietly, honesty slipping out without his permission. He picked absently at the fraying thread near the cuff of his sleeve. "Missed you, I suppose."
The line went quiet for half a second, like Ruben was actually absorbing the words instead of brushing past them. Then, a low hum crackled through the speaker.
"It's only been a couple of days, Niall."
"I know." He let his head fall back against the glass with a tired sigh. The bus vibrated beneath him, rattling hard as it rolled through uneven streets. "But still."
A faint chuckle. "Needy thing."
Heat prickled instantly up the back of Niall's neck. "Shut up."
Ruben laughed properly this time, the sound curling hot through Niall's chest, his heart skipping a beat. Three days without hearing his voice, and, apparently, he'd become desperate. Niall swallowed the feeling down quickly before it could settle too deeply.
"You won't get in trouble for callin' me?"
"Fuck 'em." The immediate answer made Niall snort softly despite himself. Ruben continued before he could reply. "You never call me first." Another quieter hum, almost pleased. "Wasn't gonna pass that up."
Niall rolled his eyes automatically, though his mouth threatened to twitch upward again. "You're unbelievable."
Ruben's deep hum rattled against his ear as the bus slowed at a red light. He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again, his voice lower this time.
"So," he drawled, a distant sound of a lighter flickering accompanying his voice. "What's up, Bambers?"
Niall exhaled slowly through his nose, scratching his neck as he remembered all his troubles that have piled up throughout the day. "Tough day at work."
"Hm?"
"Got reprimanded for not being a team player because I won't happily slave away over spreadsheets like the rest of those energy-sucking vampires." Niall spat, frustration coming from the deepest pits of his soul. "I hate corporate life. It's miserable. They're all miserable, and they're sucking me into it."
"Quit, then." Ruben offered, taking a drag of a cigarette.
Niall laughed outright at that, exhausted and disbelieving all at once. "Oh, right. Brilliant idea. Why didn't I think of that?"
"I'm serious, Niall." He barked, irritated at being laughed at. "Why stay if you hate it so much?"
"I can't just quit my job, Ruben." Niall responded, equally frustrated. "Some of us need stable income."
"You've got stable income."
"Barely." He muttered, and Ruben stayed quiet, listening intently. Niall sighed, rubbing tiredly at his face. "Everything's expensive right now. Especially when you're planning a wedding."
The second the words left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted. Niall instantly knew he'd made a mistake. Ruben didn't react right away, only distant clanging filled the silence for a moment before he finally exhaled slowly through his nose. Niall stared harder out the window, skin prickling as he waited.
Ruben spoke again, voice void of emotion now. "What about that faggot?"
Niall's brows knit together immediately, bewildered at the sudden hatred in his voice. "What?"
"Does he sit on his ass all day or is he actually helpin' you pay for any of it?"
Niall straightened automatically, irritation flaring hot through his exhausted fog. "He is helping."
Ruben kissed his teeth like he didn't believe him.
"He is," Niall repeated more sharply, the need to defend Alby blinding him. "It's just harder for him."
"Harder how?" Ruben hissed, pressing for more details. "He's a man. Why isn't he providing for you?"
"I'm a man too, Ruben. I provide for him as well." Niall hesitated briefly, debating whether he should share this piece of information. He picked at a hanging nail on his thumb and sighed in defeat. "He can't really see properly out of his left eye anymore."
The words softened against his will, and guilt twisted low in his stomach instantly afterward. Ruben gave an incredulous snort, like the whole situation was funny. He remained quiet for a moment, laughing lightly to himself before he spoke again.
"Why are you with him?"
Niall blinked, the question throwing him off guard. "What?"
"You heard me." He spat, not even remotely trying to hide his anger. "Why him?"
Niall's fingers gripped the phone tight, his pounding headache spreading behind his eyes. The rain seemed to come down harder, as if sensing the tense atmosphere Niall had just stupidly walked into.
"I love him," he said finally, the answer was practiced and forced.
Ruben jeered again. "Do you really?"
Niall opened his mouth immediately, but he couldn't force the word out. A simple syllable stuck in his throat choking him into silence. He tried to breathe through it, but shuddered around it.
"…Yes," he said eventually, quieter this time. "I do."
"Right." Ruben let out a slow breath through his nose like it required a lot of effort. Like he was forcing himself to let the subject die before it rotted any further. "Whatever you say, Kennedy."
Niall swallowed hard, the tension leaving him squirming in his uncomfortable bus seat.
"Isn't it late?" He asked, aiming to change the subject with false casual confidence. "Why are you still workin'?"
"Overtime." Came a clipped reply, and Niall wanted to shoot himself.
His chest tightened, and he straightened subtly in his seat. "Where are you?"
He could hear Ruben take another drag out of his cigarette, blowing it out before answering. "Edinburgh."
"What?" His brows furrowed instantly, thinking maybe he'd heard it wrong. "Why the fuck are you in Edinburgh?"
"Job assignment."
"What job assignment, Ruben?"
"The one I'm currently on."
"No, obviously," Niall snapped, irritation flaring sharp and sudden through him. "I mean, since when?"
Ruben laughed quietly under his breath. "So many questions, Bambi."
"Answer them." The bite in Niall's voice must've amused him because Ruben let out this low, fond sigh that only aggravated Niall further.
"Started Tuesday." Ruben finally replied. "After I left your flat."
Tuesday.
That meant Ruben had kept this from him while washing his dishes. While making his breakfast. While ordering Niall around like he was helpless.
He hadn't said a word.
The realization burned unpleasantly, his heart clenching painfully as he retraced the week.
"I thought you weren't taking the job." He said slowly. The bus shook and a passenger yelled at another, but Niall’s attention was laser focused on the suddenly important conversation he was having over the phone.
"It's not the same one."
"You still said you weren't going." Niall pressed, nails digging into his thigh to reel in some of the panic ebbing in his veins. "You told me you were staying local."
"Hm." A noncommittal little hum, agreeing with Niall's recount of events. "I was planning to, but they offered me more money."
Niall's eyes burned, the pain in his thigh no longer enough to distract him from the childish hurt in his heart. He wasn't upset that Ruben had taken the job per se, but because he hadn't told him. He had just quietly left instead, like Niall wasn't important enough to keep informed.
"I thought I told you not to," he muttered before he could stop himself.
The reinstated silence only broke with the return of Ruben's rough laughter. "You hearin' yourself right now?"
"Shut up." Niall spat, curling into himself as he watched the world pass by from his window seat. "I don't care. Why didn’t you tell me?"
"It's not forever, darlin'. Just two weeks." He calmly supplied, as if that made it any better.
Niall began to gather his things as the bus crept closer to his stop. He ungraciously ripped his umbrella from his bag as he balanced his phone on his shoulder. "You're joking."
"No."
The bus slowed toward another stop, brakes screeching loudly beneath the floorboards. A woman shoved past Niall toward the exit, muttering apologies when her bag clipped his shoulder, but he barely registered the impact. His mind was swimming.
"I'm workin' fourteen-hour shifts," Ruben continued placidly. "Then it's about an hour drive back after that."
The exhaustion in Ruben's voice became obvious all at once now that Niall was listening for it. He sounded rough around the edges, worn thin beneath the usual boisterous charm.
"You'll barely be home." Niall miserably whispered, defeated.
"I know." Banging and the sound of other men arguing slowly became audible once more as Ruben walked back to his work site. "It's temporary, Niall."
"It's too long." Niall almost pouted as he snapped back.
A quiet sigh echoed through the speaker.
"You were fine for fourteen years. You'll survive two weeks."
The words wrapped around Niall's heart and squeezed, constricting his blood flow painfully at the reminder of the grief he had endured for over a decade.
Ruben was right, of course. This was nothing compared to the years they spent apart. And he'll continue to have contact with his brother despite the distance between them. But all the reasonable logic in the world didn't stop the ugly panic crawling steadily higher beneath Niall's skin anyway.
"I can't," he admitted the honest confession quietly, but it was never a truth that needed to be said aloud. The noise of the bus suddenly felt unbearably loud compared to Ruben's deafening silence.
A beep of a horn from the car beside the bus. A couple speaking in hushed conversations behind Niall. The rain continues to patter on despite it all.
"Bambi."
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked again, smaller this time, the anger having seeped out of him, and a sad excuse of a man left behind. "That you'd be gone for that long?"
Ruben sounded tired when he answered, having indulged Niall for far too long already. "Didn't know I needed your permission."
"Well, you do." He knew he sounded embarrassingly possessive, and he could practically see the shit-eating grin Ruben must surely be wearing. He knew he was being bratty, but his pride was nowhere to be found. Nothing was stopping this horribly sincere moment of weakness from being publicly displayed.
"Do I now?" Niall could definitely hear the smile in his voice.
"Yes."
A quiet chuckle, disgustingly fond and full of an emotion Niall doesn't dare read into. He didn't really know what he wanted out of this conversation.
"You getting bossy with me, sweetheart?"
Never mind, Niall wanted to throttle him through the screen.
"You don't get to just—" He broke off with an aggravated exhale, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He lowered his voice, speaking directly into the phone so only the man on the other end could hear his sinful indecency. "You don't get to leave me like one of your whores, Ruben. You can't just fuck me for an entire weekend, then disappear without a word. I thought I meant more to you than that."
"Careful." A simple warning that Niall was going to ignore.
"Ruben." Niall was almost begging at this point. "What am I to you?"
The older man groaned, annoyed with Niall's petulant never-ending whining. Another man shouted in the background and the sound of a excavator backing up filled the line between them.
"Of course, you mean something to me," Ruben responded after a tense moment of silence. He took a last drag out of his cigarette before putting it out "You're my brother."
It was too rehearsed, like Ruben had deliberately chosen the safest possible answer.
Niall laughed, but the sound came out thin around the ache building beneath his sternum. He hated how quickly disappointment seeped into his bones.
"Right." He muttered.
The bus jerked toward the curb as it reached his stop. He stood too quickly, shoulder clipping one of the poles hard enough to sting.
"Bambi—"
"Bye, Ruben."
"Niall, don't start—"
He hung up before he could hear the rest.
Cold rain hit him the second he stepped off the bus, cooling his flushed face as he started the walk home. He cursed the day his mother ever met Maura Pallister.
Ruben hadn't called him back afterward.
Not once.
Only a single text, ten minutes later, sent while Niall walked the final stretch home beneath the drizzling rain.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
home yet?
Like the argument hadn't happened at all. Or, more likely, Ruben had simply decided he was done entertaining it.
Niall stared at the message while waiting to cross the street, jaw locked tight with lingering irritation. His shoes splashed through shallow rainwater gathered near the curb, cold droplets soaking the hem of his trousers and damping his already sour mood.
Part of him wanted to ignore the text.
A bigger part of him had already opened the conversation.
almost
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
button up your jacket.
fuck off
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
did you?
His fingers were already deftly working the polished buttons through their fabric loops, protecting him from the onslaught of cold rain pelting down on him. He really shouldn't reply.
yes
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
good boy.
It was indecent, really, how quickly all the heat in his body rushed down south at the sight of those two stupid words on his cracked phone screen.
By the time Niall finally reached his flat, the ache in his chest dulled into something softer without his permission, his rage evaporating before he realized it. He shoved his phone back into his pocket before he could reread the messages and unlocked the apartment door with tired fingers.
The faint sound of the television playing softly somewhere deeper inside, and the smell of tomato soup cooking on the stove greeted Niall.
Alby was home.
For a moment, fear rushed through him so hard it nearly stopped him in the doorway. Not because he'd technically done anything wrong in the past hour (which was a difficult task on its own) but because his pulse was still fluttering from another man's praise while his fiancée stood twenty feet away.
"Niall?" Alby's voice drifted softly from the kitchen. A moment later, he appeared around the corner wearing the same white sweatpants Ruben wore when he was over. Concern flickered across his face the second his eyes landed on his face. "Oh, baby."
Niall barely had time to brace himself before Alby crossed the room toward him. He threw his arms around him, examining every angle of his face in search of what was hurting him so.
"You look exhausted." The gentleness in his voice nearly undid him, but it was easier to ignore the urge as the days passed. Lying had become second nature to him.
"Long day," Niall muttered, swallowing hard as Alby's hand came up instinctively toward his cheek, thumb brushing lightly beneath one tired eye.
Alby's strong brows pinched together. "Is Sandra still giving you shit at work?"
Niall looked away, hoping that the answer was enough.
"Oh, honey." A pitiful expression encompassed Alby's face, infuriating a resentful part of Niall. He couldn't handle his suffocating kindness today.
"I'm fine," Niall said quickly, shrugging out of Alby's arms and his damp jacket before Alby could look too closely at him. "Just tired."
He lingered near Niall for another second, clearly unconvinced. Then his expression softened further, choosing to believe Niall's blatant treachery.
"I made tomato and red lentil soup earlier," he offered timidly. "There's still some left on the stove if you're hungry."
At the exact same moment, Niall's phone buzzed again in his pocket. His entire body reacted before he could hide it, his hand immediately reaching for the device subconsciously. Alby's eyes glanced downward briefly, noticing the movement.
"You expecting something?"
"No," Niall lied instantly, eyes already skimming the message he received.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
go run yourself a hot shower.
then wear that soft yellow long sleeve.
and those black shorts i like.
send me a picture when you're done.
"I'm gonna shower first." He said, after rolling his eyes at the texts. He forced himself to smile at Alby before stepping around him and towards their bedroom door.
"Alright." Alby hesitated, watching him walk away. "Hey,"
Niall paused, glancing back over his shoulder.
"I'm glad you're home." He was so genuine in his gentle declaration, and it disgusted Niall in a way he couldn't describe.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Me too."
Then he escaped down the hallway before the guilt could swallow him whole.
Ruben was an insufferable bastard, and Niall mumbled and groaned about his crude behavior as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. He continued to complain under his breath as he dried himself off with his towel, and he found himself standing in the steamy bathroom mirror wearing exactly what Ruben had asked for.
The oversized shirt hung loose off one shoulder, soft from years of washing. The black shorts sat low on his hips, exposing the pale length of his legs still pink from the heat of the shower.
Niall lifted his phone reluctantly, snapping the picture quickly before embarrassment could settle too deeply, one hand covering most of his flushed face. He sent it without looking, already mortified as he stared at himself in the mirror.
The response came less than ten seconds later.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
why are you covering that pretty face?
send another.
a proper one.
Niall actually groaned out loud.
"You're unbelievable," he muttered to nobody, but it applied to both of them.
Still, the butterflies clawing in his stomach awoke once more as he angled the camera back toward himself, violent in their fluttering. This time, he let his humiliated face stay visible. His damp hair fell messily across his forehead, face flushed red from embarrassment. A shy smile tugged unconsciously at his mouth before he could bite it back.
The typing bubble appeared directly afterward.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
beautiful.
now go make yourself something to eat
Niall's stomach growled at being reminded of his hunger. He thought back to the delicious smell of Alby's cooking and wondered if that was a suitable choice. Maybe he should ask Ruben.
alby made soup
i might have that
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
no.
you've got oatmeal in the top cabinet.
add cinnamon if you'd like.
Niall stared at the messages for a long moment. Then, quietly, placed his phone in his pocket and did exactly what he was told.
He was cooking a small saucepan of oatmeal at a low simmer on the left side of the stove, right beside the pot of hot tomato and red lentil soup. Alby had already cooked, and Niall knew the soup tasted good, but he still found himself turning toward the spice cabinet in search of cinnamon anyway.
Alby blinked from the couch, watching Niall cook. "Oh. You don't want soup?"
"It's not that." Niall's shoulders tightened slightly. He continued to stir the spice into his oats. "Just cravin' oatmeal."
Alby's brows lifted a fraction in surprise. "For dinner?"
"I dunno." Niall grappled for any explanation he could think of. "Just felt like it, I suppose."
The brief second of confusion across Alby's face melted into uncomfortable relief.
"Oh. Okay." He smiled faintly, like he was glad that Niall was eating anything. "You've barely had an appetite lately. I'm glad you're hungry."
Niall's throat tightened painfully; he couldn't even look at Alby properly.
"Yeah," he muttered. His phone buzzed once more against his thigh.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
eat all of it.
The command was humiliating; he wasn't a pet that could be ordered around, expected to obey demands without a word. Groaning as he sat on the opposite end of the couch with the bowl balanced carefully in his lap, he let his anger simmer as he shoveled bite after bite of bland oatmeal into his mouth.
Alby had long since gone back to watching television beside him, quiet and trusting as he enjoyed the silence between them.
Niall stared down at the empty bowl for a moment before subtly lifting his phone over his lap. He snapped a quick picture of the bowl, his sock-covered feet, and the strip of skin exposed from his shorts riding up.
He sends the picture, and the reply comes mere moments after.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
good lad.
knew you could do it.
He quickly grabbed the teal throw blanket between them to cover the hard-on that just sprang to life at the embarrassing praise. He locked his phone quickly before Alby could accidentally glance at the screen.
"You alright?" Alby asked softly, forever concerned with Niall's well-being. He nodded, trying to shake the overbearing worry he didn't ask for.
The television cast the living room in dim blue light, washing Alby's face in tired shadows. He looked exhausted, too, Niall realized suddenly. There were dark circles beneath his eyes now that hadn't been there a couple of months ago.
Still, he smiled gently at Niall from the opposite end of the couch.
"I'm really glad you're eating again."
Niall froze slightly, the bowl nearly falling from his lap. "What?"
"You've seemed…" Alby hesitated carefully, like he was trying not to say the wrong thing. "More like yourself lately."
The observation stung something fierce because Alby looked relieved. Actually relieved.
"I know things have been hard recently," He continued softly. "But it feels like you're starting to take care of yourself again."
Oh, you poor, poor bastard.
Niall should confess or at the very least offer an explanation. Let Alby know that the man he was planning to marry needed to be told when to eat, when to sleep, what to wear, what to think. Alby should know that he's set on marrying a pathetic puppet rather than a fleshed-out man.
Instead, he just looked down at the shape of his boner through the blanket and sat dumbfounded.
"Oh."
Alby smiled faintly, hand reaching for his hair from where he slung his arm across the back of the couch. "I'm proud of you."
The ache in Niall's chest became almost unbearable then, bordering on a heart attack. Because Alby meant it, and Niall most definitely didn't deserve it.
He leaned subtly into the touch anyway. Alby's fingers combed lazily through the damp hair near the nape of his neck while the television droned softly in the background, neither of them really paying attention to whatever was playing anymore. The storm from earlier still raved in the street, rain tapping steadily against the windows, soft enough to blur into white noise.
For a little while, neither of them spoke.
Niall played with the hem of the blanket draped over his lap while Alby absently played with his hair, exhaustion pulling heavier at both of them as the night stretched on.
At some point, Alby quietly took the empty bowl from his hands and carried it into the kitchen before returning with a tired yawn.
"C'mere," he murmured softly, nudging Niall's knee with his own. "Let's go to bed."
Niall followed him wordlessly, pretending that listening to Alby's gentle guidance felt similar to the rough demands Ruben berated him with. The apartment lights clicked off one by one behind them as they moved through the flat, leaving everything dim and blue with moonlight. By the time they finally crawled beneath the covers, fatigue sat so heavily inside Niall's bones that he expected sleep would take him instantly as he lay curled in Alby's arms.
Instead, he found himself staring blankly into the darkness beside Alby's sleeping form. The taller man had let go of him instinctively after only a few minutes, leaving Niall alone and cold as he prayed for just a moment of sleep.
His body felt wrong somehow without the low murmur of Ruben's voice grounding him through the phone. He was too aware of every sound and thought; every unpleasant feeling was trying to claw its way back up now that the distraction of the day had faded.
He lasted nearly twenty minutes before finally reaching for his phone beneath his pillow. The screen lit his face blue in the darkness.
No new messages.
He wanted to cry. He was sure Ruben was still miles fucking away, too busy to give Niall the attention he so pitifully needed. He tossed to his side and flipped his pillow around, trying every other method he could think of to lull himself to sleep.
As though sensing his distress somehow, the phone buzzed softly beside him. Niall's breath caught as he hesitantly picked it up, nervously swiping the screen open.
+44 (141) xxx-xxxx
go to sleep, bambi.
The tension inside him loosened instantly, like a leash finally going slack. He breathed hard against the sudden, painful tightness climbing his throat and locked the phone again, clutching it loosely against his chest beneath the blankets. Beside him, Alby shifted closer unconsciously in his sleep.
The weight of his phone and Ruben's quiet command lulled Niall into finally closing his eyes.