Brother's Best Friend || l.s.

chapter 1

"Apparently Niall's called in sick again." Liam loudly declared as he sauntered out from the stockroom, carrying a heavy-looking box in his strong hands. "But then again, when is he not sick?"

Harry was very much preoccupied with sweeping the floor behind the bakery counter, in so much of a daze due to the concentration of neatly getting the job done, that he had to hum as a way of asking Liam what in the world he had just said.

"In your own world again, Haz? I swear you've already swept that floor a hundred times today." Liam teased, placing the cardboard box down on the counter, so a cloud of flour flurried into the air.

Harry balanced the wooden broom's handle against the wall, wiping his hands off down his apron and taking a seat on a high stool, his long legs bent so his feet could rest on the rungs.

"It's not like there's anything better to be doing, we haven't had a customer in over half an hour." Harry alluded, after checking the time on the clock. His eyes spent a lot of the day trained on that clock face, and the hands never seemed to move.

He glanced around the desolate bakery. It wasn't unusual for it to be so empty on a late Saturday afternoon, when it was unpleasantly spitting rain outside, and dark clouds were cast above the entire village. Nobody in their right mind would want to venture out in such miserable weather for the sake of an iced bun.

"Ed said there isn't a lot to do today, so I guess today is an okay day for Niall to throw a sickie."

Ed was one of those cool managers, the type who would let them stand around chatting with each other when the bakery wasn't too busy, or allow them to wander off into the stockroom to go on their phones if they so wished to. The fact that he had given them all a Saturday job there, together, in the first place made him a godsend; Harry didn't think he would be able to get through a single day without Liam or Niall there to brighten it up. It was a decent pay for seventeen-year-olds too, enough to temporarily line their pockets until they blew all their wages on things they really didn't need.

"Wait, Niall's throwing a sickie again?" Harry ascertained, having once again let what Liam told him go straight over his head, taking a long time to process it.

"Yes, I did tell you this earlier, while you were daydreaming." Liam chuckled, straightening up the countertop pricing menu. "But you always choose to ignore me."

"I don't mean to, I'm just a reflective guy." Harry grinned. Liam returned it, deeply inhaling, holding it for a couple of seconds, and slowly exhaling.

"It's a shame Niall's not in, actually. I was going to ask you both if you wanted to come round." Liam unveiled, a tempting smile on his face. Harry's eyebrows were urged to raise, physically standing up from the stool.

"Really?" He vociferated in disbelief. Liam nodded, a smug smile spread across his face.

Now, Harry had known Liam Tomlinson and Niall Horan for a little over two years now, since they had become acquainted during their time in school, and the three of them had formed a very close-knit bond throughout this time. They shared secrets; took the piss out of each other; pranked each other, yet generally helped each other through school and work - just basic qualities of a friendship. But there was one thing that didn't quite add up, an unspoken thing that Harry had always been internally inquisitive about: Liam never, ever invited them over to his house. Ever. In the two or more years of being best mates.

They had all been to Harry's, and Niall's, homes countless time to hang out or stay the night, but when it came to Liam's house, they didn't even know where he lived. For Liam to actually be offering an invite, for the first time since their friendship had entered the 'visiting each other's houses' stage, was virtually unthinkable. He usually had an excuse ready as to why they couldn't come round.