My initial reaction to hearing the sound of the blow dryer two rooms away die down, is closing my eyes and whispering a faint, "Thank fuck." Five minutes, she said. Didn't know that was another way of saying I'd have to wait half an hour for her.

I shift a little as I hear the door open, then close, then the door of my room open and her walking in. There's not as much light as there was in my room in the frat house, seeing as the nearest lamppost is like two buildings down the block, but I can still make out the thin white t-shirt and underwear of the same color that she's wearing. God bless her.

Running her hand through her hair, with a small but knowing smile, she slowly walks over to the bed. She sets both hands on either side of my legs and crawls over my body, until we're face to face, instead of lying on her side. And once again, I'm thinking God bless her.

"Hi," She says, her voice deep and quiet, and her face a mere inch above mine. I feel like this is going to end in me having to excuse myself to go to the bathroom all over again.

"Hi."

"Did you take care of yourself?" She asks casually, and I chuckle against her lips as she lowers her head closer to mine, but without our faces being close enough.

"Yes." I reply, just as casually as I bring my hands to her hips, and hitch her shirt up a few inches. Freya arches her back at my touch, only pressing her stomach to mine.

"Washed your hands?"

"Yes."

"D'you do it more than once?"

"...Hell yes."

That's when she loses her composure, hiding her face in the nook between my neck and shoulder, low laughs emitting from her mouth while I awkwardly stare at the ceiling, and wonder how far I'd go at embarrassing myself to entertain her. Infinity? That sounds about right.

Freya lifts her head, grinning from ear to ear as she surprises me by leaning down abruptly, and placing a hard kiss on my lips. In a flash I remember that my hands are on her waist, so I proceed to pull her closer to me; she tries fighting me at first, but a couple of moments later her arms give out and she's lying flat on top of me. The fact that she's still trying to keep herself up with her knees is the only reason I still have air in my lungs.

I place one hand on the small of her back, and slide my other one up her spine, until it's basically at the nape of her neck, beneath her shirt. "You're not..." I begin as I realize something, still kissing her but she initially pulls away when she feels me speaking. "You're not wearing a bra."

She blinks at me, then breathes out a laugh when she picks up on the fact that what I'd said, isn't nearly as serious as the facial expression I had while saying it. "I'm aware of that," She says, her satan lips once again hovering over mine. "Do you want me to put one on?"

"You kidding me?" Is the first thing that crosses my mind, and of course I say it out loud. "I mean... if you want to, you can, but don't think that I want you to." Then I give her the most reassuring look I can, nodding my head firmly, "I like your boobs. Think you have great boobs."

"Oh my God," She mutters, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she sits up, sitting right where I don't need her right now- it's okay though. I'm not affected. I can't be affected. Not for another 20 minutes, give or take. "I swear, it's only the two of us, yet you find a way to embarrass me. It takes a genius to do that."

"How am I embarrassing you?" I ask, frowning and laughing lightly at the same time, as I sit up so my head is against the headboard. "You came in here and asked me if I'd wanked, like it's the most normal thing in the world."

"It is the most normal thing in the world," She smiles cheekily. This is her inner Harry coming to the surface.

"And it's not normal that I like your boobs?"

"Not even I like my boobs."

"Well somebody has to like them. I'll do it for you."

She closes her eyes again, chuckling as she does, and ultimately rolls to the side so that she's lying beside me. I wish I had a single sized bed, that way neither of us would have a choice other than to cuddle, or spoon. Or fall off the bed. But then get back in it and cuddle or spoon again. There's literally no downside to single sized beds and two people sleeping in it.

"What- what are you doing?" I ask, frowning again when she rolls to the side, and hides her face in the pillow. "Don't tell me you're gonna sleep."

"It's almost midnight, what do you think I'm gonna do?"

I furrow my brows harder, and look around the barely illuminated room. "Yeah, but... I don't have school, and you don't have work 'til two. Why sleep?"

She doesn't say anything;  instead just rolls onto her stomach and turns her head to the other side. I know she's not serious about actually going to sleep, I mean, she'd at least get under the comforter if she were.

"Freya? Freya," I call, my tone flat as I shake her back with slight force, but she doesn't budge. "Come on, is this because of what I said about your boobs? 'Cause I was serious. I'm sorry if you took it as a joke."

When she continues to lie still, I look down at my hands for a second, then out the window as I shrug to myself. "I do like your boobs," I say quietly, "I really think you have nice boobs."

"Can we stop talking about my boobs now?"

The sound of her voice makes me grin, and I kick my leg in triumph. I knew that provoking her would work. "Only if you stop pretending that you're sleeping," I tell her, watching the back of her head with a bright smile. "'Til then I'm gonna be talking about how great your boobs are. They're great. Your boobs are g-"

"Shut up!" Freya cuts me off, whining, and I laugh in victory. "God Almighty, just..."

She pulls herself over to me, dropping her head on my chest in an exhausted manner. "Stop talking."

"Okay," I respond with a smile, raising my hand to her hair, to lazily brush strands of tangled curls out of her face. She seems to like it, nuzzling her face in my shirt and shifting so that I'd have more access to her hair- this is like Kirsten and Harry earlier in the hospital. I've come to the conclusion that the Styles siblings are a pair of kittens. "I prefer the backside anyway."

I try suppressing a laugh as she groans loudly into my shirt, ultimately opening her eyes to glare at me. "Then why were you so keen on having me turn around in the shower?"

Oh, here I thought she'd tell me to shut up again. Glad she decided to play along though. "Because I like your face too," I tell her, in a flat tone, like I'm stating the obvious. Which I am. "No offense to your ass, but I'd go for your face any day. Well, most days, let's be honest here."

She reluctantly lets out a light laugh, supporting herself on her hands as she lifts her body, and brings her face right above mine, as close as it would go without touching. She seems to like doing that. "How about," Freya starts softly, her lips brushing mine as she speaks, "We don't talk about my body at all, hm? How's that sound?"

"That sounds like shit," I tell her honestly, my voice a little louder than intended, causing her to laugh again and shake her head. "I like talking about things that I like," I continue, glancing down at her figure before looking up into her eyes again. "In this case, worship."

"Okay, seriously, just, like..." After a minute of trying to figure out what she wants to say, Freya only shakes her head and rolls onto her side again, turning her back to me. Again. Now I'm really confused.

"Come on," I say through a light chuckle, shaking her back lightly but already knowing that it won't have any effect. "I was fucking complimenting you. Why do you hate talking about your body so much?"

Not a moment after the words leave my mouth, I turn my head to look straight ahead of myself, thinking that this is how having an epiphany probably feels like. If she's really so insecure about her body to the point where she gets annoyed with compliments, then... there's most likely a reason for that.

I carefully slide down in the bed, so that she wouldn't feel me moving, and turn on my side, laying my head between her jaw and neck, and bringing my arm around her waist. I had already accepted the fact that we're just going to go to sleep – not that that's a bad thing, when we're lying like this – but then she decides to react. Her timing is just, God, I can't even find a word to describe her timing. It's like we're several fucking time zones apart.

"Don't put your arms around me," She mumbles, grabbing my wrist and literally throwing it over her back, making me jolt upwards. I'm literally five seconds away from having enough of this.

"Would you like me to sleep on the couch?" I ask as I sit up, my voice loud and sarcastic, and blink at the side of her head a few times. She turns her head slightly, allowing me to see more of her face.

"...No."

"Would you like to sleep on the couch?"

Freya sighs, punching her pillow once before laying her head down again, "No, Niall, just-"

"Then what the fuck is your problem?" I ask again, the question itself making me realize how tired I actually am. "What do you want me to do? I'm not a fucking mind reader, you gotta communicate with me through words."

"Let me sleep," She begins sternly, propping herself up on one elbow so that she'd pull the quilt from underneath her and cover herself- wow, she's actually serious about sleeping now. "And don't touch me until you're done pitying me. Hope that's wordy enough for you."

I sigh and look around – not that there's much that I'm able to look at – and try to calm down so I wouldn't lash out at her again. She knows me, she knows I'm not stupid, she knows that I got it figured out without any trouble.

"I wasn't pitying you," I decide to awkwardly speak up, because, well, I can't just turn around and go to sleep. I'm not letting the 'honeymoon phase' die out.

"Sure you wer-"

"I wasn't pitying you," I repeat, this time through gritted teeth; when she stays quiet and doesn't respond, I sigh inaudibly again, and lie down on my back again. I place one forearm behind my head and settle with staring at the ceiling, though I'm a little surprised when I feel the mattress move- and from the corner of my eye, I can see her lying on her back too, her head turned to the left so she's looking at me. "Feeling sorry for what some shitbag did to you isn't the same as pitying you."

There's a silence after my statement, and I can feel her eyes on me – but I refuse to look away from the ceiling, knowing I'd either snap or let her have this done her way if I looked in her eyes. "What's the difference?" She questions after a minute, and I hum in slight confusion. "What's the difference between those two? Pitying me and feeling sorry for me?"

I close my eyes for a short second, taking a semi-deep breath before I started talking. "Pitying you means... that I comfort you, and spend time with you, and-and love you because of what you've gone through." I pause for a second, "And feeling sorry means that I-I'm sorry, and angry, and I want to throw that bastard off a cliff into the fucking Mariana Trench, but that I don't let his bullshit affect how I feel about you. And if I'm fucking trying to hug you while we sleep, that doesn't mean I'm doing it because some asshat decided it'd be fun to make you feel insecure about your own body."

Jesus Christ. If it weren't so late, I wouldn't have been able to say any of that out loud. But that's the thing about everything I'd just said – things like that are impossible to be said in the daylight. It takes the small hours of the night, tiredness, irritation and genuine affection towards the person next to you to be able to say what's on your mind without holding anything back.

I rub my face with my hands, deciding to let her interpret that and react to it however she wants – but when I move my hands away, I'm almost startled to see her lying on the side, her hand holding her face as she keeps herself up on her upper arm, and her lips forming a small smile- okay, she really needs to make up her mind. Does she want to be angry at me or talk rationally to me? She can't do both. But I'd love to see her try. Bet it'd be fun.

"He didn't make me feel insecure," She starts, making me blink as she interrupts my thoughts. Seems like she's opting for rational talking. "But he never really made me feel good either."

"You're not defending his sorry ass in my bed, no, nope, goodbye," I shake my head and pretend to be turning my back to her, but she places one hand on my chest, pushing me on my back as she chuckles.

"I'm not defending him," She tells me, looking at me reassuringly. "I'm just saying... he never said anything specific, but he always made comments like 'hey, when was the last time you went to the gym?' or 'hey, you don't need to eat all of that!'."

"And it never occurred to you to, I don't know, dump the assface?"

She frowns at me, slowly, with a half amused, half annoyed look on her face. "I was eighteen and a fucking chump, and he still had all of his marbles on count," She tells me with a smile, that gradually disappears after she's finished her sentence. "And... by the time that I realized I should have, uh, dumped the assface, he'd lost about three quarters of his marbles and there was no way out."

Looking down, she shrugs and lifts her hand to my torso, drawing random figures with her calloused fingers on the grey material. "I just... had to accept the 'lifestyle' I'd gotten myself into and live with it. And let everything out when I went kickboxing."

I frown slightly, bringing my hand to her hair again, and she instinctively lowers her chin on my chest, still playing with my shirt. "That's why you do kickboxing?" I mumble, "Because you're angry?"

"Well, it wasn't because of that at first. But, as time went on, I realized that was the only way I could stay sane, and not keep everything bottled-up." She turns her head a little, carefully looking at me. "I wasn't brainwashed, you know. I knew that the things he did to me didn't happen in a normal relationship. I knew that it was unhealthy. And it angered me that I couldn't talk to him, or anyone else about it. And of course, kickboxing my anger out had its cons."

Throughout her whole little speech, I was convinced I wouldn't have anything to say at the end of it – but that last sentence of hers just got me. "What cons?" I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"I think I've developed anger issues over the years," She tells me, casually, watching her fingers play with my shirt. I wonder if she can feel my heart speed up at her response. "You don't wanna know what I'm capable of when I'm angry. And I mean really angry. Good thing it's quite hard to make me really angry."

"Uh, well, if you don't remember, I saw you almost commit murder in an alleyway, so I think I have a pretty good idea of what you're capable of." She's breathing out a laugh by the end of my statement, but I only furrow my eyebrows harder at her. "Have you ever killed somebody?"

Now, she'd probably kill me for asking that, if we were in right mindsets. Everything sounds normal after midnight. "Um, well..." She looks up at the ceiling, and for once, I'm actually scared of hearing her answer. "I killed a punching bag once, like one of those heavy bags. Literally, I kept punching and kicking it so hard, it just blew up."

She pauses as I start laughing, but doesn't wait for me to recompose myself. "And once I knocked out two of my opponent's teeth."

Well, that sure as hell got me to stop laughing. "Wait, what?" I blink down at her, repeating her sentence in my head. "You knocked- was it a man or a woman?"

"Of course it was a woman," She tells me, as if stating the obvious, but then shakes her head from side to side, seeming a little hesitant. I don't think I'm ready to hear that story. "Although, she was one weight class above mine. My trainer thought I could take her out smoothly, but it was ugly the first time."

"The first time?" Okay, now I definitely want to hear that story.

"Yeah, I knocked her teeth out in the rematch." Freya looks away from me for a second, shrugging a little heavily, "And she knocked one of mine out the first time. We're even now."

"You got a tooth knocked out?" I ask enthusiastically, grinning in amusement as I place a hand on either side of her jaw, "You're kid- let me see!"

"I have an implant, you asshole, you can't see shit," She says irritably, turning her head away for a second until I pulled my hand away from her face, then placed her chin on my chest again, like nothing happened. "But yeah. That happened too."

"Can you at least tell me what tooth it is?" I don't even know why this is entertaining me so much – it might be because I'm tired and anything unusual or unexpected can make me excited. That's the only explanation I have for myself.

Freya rolls her eyes and sighs at my childishness, but still lifts her head off of me, and puts her forefinger on her lower tooth, third one on the left. It might be because of the darkness, but I would have never guessed it's not her own. "She actually just broke it," She starts all of a sudden, making me avert my eyes to hers. "But I had to get it removed. And I wasn't gonna go around without a front tooth, so..."

After trailing off, she just returns her head to my torso and, I don't know why, but I feel like I'm even more fascinated by her now, than I was before. Like I knew that she did martial arts and all that, but I never gave it much thought before hearing this story, an actual experience of hers. It's really just sinking in now. Like, Freya does martial arts. She does kickboxing and is really good at it too. She can snap me like a twig at any time. She can actually do that.

"You know what'd be fair?" She begins again, not looking at me as she speaks. "If you told me something about yourself now. You know, something embarrassing."

"Um..." Her question came quite out of the blue, so I'm left with no 'embarrassing moments', even when I try to think of some. "Could you make it more specific? 'Cause I have nothing."

"Alright," She responds in a light tone, crossing her forearms on my chest and narrowing her eyes at me. Like she's trying to read my thoughts. "When did you lose your virginity?"

"Hey!" I intuitively exclaim, having her laugh at my initial reaction. "What makes you think that's an embarrassing story?"

"You look like it is."

I breathe out a laugh at her excuse, and look down for a second. "Well, uh... I think... a week before I came to Chicago."

Freya surprises me by snorting at my answer, then hiding her face in her arms to hide her laughter. "What?" I frown down at her, feeling a little anxious. That's no way to react to honesty. "Eighteen isn't that bad!"

"You were- wait, you were eighteen?" She asks seriously, the change of subjects and her mood leaving me a little baffled for a few seconds. "When did you turn nineteen?"

"In September," I reply, carefully, and I'm even more baffled when she widens her eyes and drops her head in her arms again, this time groaning instead of laughing. "I think a week before I met you- what's the big deal?"

"I just..." She lifts her head, sighing exasperatedly for some reason. "Nothing, I thought you at least turn 20 before I turn 24. And now, I'm gonna be in my mid twenties and you're still gonna be a teenager." She raises her eyebrows and starts nodding lightly to herself, "Cheers, Freya."

I chuckle and raise my hand to pat her head, my actions making her eyes close and her head fall onto her arms again. "Well, if it makes you feel any better..." I shake my head at what I'm about to say, "I lost my virginity when I was eighteen."

"That's actually okay," She says, her eyes set on my face again, as she lets out small, breathy laughs through her nose. "I was eighteen too."

I take a moment to let that fact sink in, before saying something about it. "Well, you're a girl and this isn't a perfect world, so... your case is probably more acceptable than mine."

She frowns at my words, taking a few seconds before crawling up my body, so her face is a heartbeat away from mine- oh goody, I was wondering when she'd do that. "Who cares what our cases are?" She mutters, right before pressing her lips firmly against mine, and, as I breathe out through my nose and bring my hand to the back of her head, I can't help thinking – for the first time, I can completely agree on something with her.

Freya ends the kiss much sooner than I would have wanted her to, but doesn't pull away completely before she's left a few short pecks on my lips. "So," She starts, returning her arms and chin on my chest. "You were really eighteen?"

I close my eyes at her question – she's not going to stop talking and asking about it until she feels that I'm embarrassed enough, yes, I got that figured out. "I really, really was. And I think the girl agreed to it only because she would've felt sorry for me if I went to the United States as a virgin." I pause for a minute to let her laugh, "I did get around quite well when I moved here, though."

She blinks a few times, and raises her eyebrows as high as they would go- she shouldn't be looking at me like this, no, she's the one who started this conversation. "Oh? So your problem was Ireland?"

"No, my problem was not having a friend like Seth in Ireland." I nod with a smile as a look of realization washes over her face, and she nods herself too. After that though, she just lies there, and stares at me for a good minute. I know I've done something wrong, I just can't put my finger on it.

"Can I ask you something?" She needs to stop speaking up so suddenly, eventually it's gonna cause me a heart attack.

"Sure," I reply, despite my thoughts. Freya licks her lips, scanning my face for another few moments before asking her question. Or beginning to ask it.

"Well, I mean... you have had girlfriends before you were eighteen, right?"

I'm so curious to see where this is going. "Uh, yeah?"

"And... you've had girlfriend when you moved here too."

Why is Leanne the first person to cross my mind at her words? "Um, let's call them girlfriends, okay," I smile lightly, trying to ease the slight tension that her questions are creating, but her face stays just as serious nevertheless. "Why?"

She takes a deep breath, and I think that my curiosity turned into fear once again. "Did you ever cheat on any of them? Be honest."

So there's one question I wasn't expecting. "Um..." I trail off, looking away from her and scratching the top of my head, my mind racing all of a sudden. Do I lie? Lying wouldn't get me anywhere. But neither would telling the truth. But she asked me to be honest. But honesty wouldn't get me anywhere. But neither would lying. But being honest would probably-

"Yeah," I utter at last, my voice quiet and cautious, and I take a minute before looking at her; her expression is blank, and she doesn't seem angry- why would she be angry though? It's not like I was with with someone while being with her. I barely looked at anyone since I've met her. "But, you know... I could never lie to them. So I always made sure they don't find out from anyone but me."

That would've been an ace excuse, if I hadn't used plural. She'd surely noticed. And now she knows that I was unable to be faithful to more than just one girl. I wanna say that lying would have been better, but she's not stupid. She has an ability to see right through any of my acts.

"I just..." She looks down, pursing her lips slightly as she starts playing with the collar of my shirt. "Want you to know that, um, you can... you can still- I mean as far as I'm concerned, you can... you can keep seeing other girls. I don't mind."

I slowly furrow my eyebrows, going from perplexed to angry to agitated. "What?"

"Well, I know that... we joke about breaking up, as if we're together, and-and, uh, I live with you, but, you know... I'm-I'm giving you your freedom. That's the least I can do for you, after what you've done for me."

When she gives me a small but sympathetic smile, I realize, she's really serious about this. She's actually serious about 'giving me my freedom'.

I don't even know how to start.

I mean, is... is freedom what she thinks I want? Does she actually think I want something in return? Does she think I got myself beaten up and in a coma so that she could tell me I'm giving you your fucking freedom? Is that the kind of freedom she thinks I want? The one where I can see other girls freely? As if I'd find anyone good enough to look at, she's already set the bar too high. That's right, she did. Not Leanne, or any other girl I've been involved with. She did. Freya. I've been infatuated with her and following her around like a lost puppy for months, how can she even think that seeing other girls is what I want?

But... what if that's what she wants? What if she wants freedom for both of us? That makes more sense. It's an emotionally and physically painful thought, but maybe she thinks that, if she's okay with me seeing other people, I'd be okay with her seeing other people too. Which I absolutely am fucking not, but there's more to it.

This is the first time she's gotten a taste of freedom in six years, it'd actually be quite cruel of me if I tied her down to me, and this apartment after everything. So maybe this is what she needs. A bit of freedom. At this point I can only hope that it wouldn't last a long while, but how does a person make up for six wasted years in a short period of time?

"Okay," I finally reply to her statement, not letting my thoughts go any further. I think I'll let them go wild and torturous towards me once she decides to go to sleep. "And, you know... same goes for you."

I think I would have rather gotten smacked with a wrecking ball than said those four last words out loud. "Yeah?" Freya raises her brows, somewhat surprised, but then a relieved smile starts spreading across her face. Wow. She really doesn't want to be tied down to me.

I nod my head, forcing a smile on my face as she lifts herself up, and pulls herself closer to my face. "Can I still-" I'm cut off by her lips, and the slightly stodgy kiss we share, before I pull my head back to finish my sentence, "-kiss you?"

Freya laughs at my childish question, "Anytime you want," She mutters against my lips, pecking them once more before pulling away completely. That's good, yes, there's still hope. Hope as big as a piece of dust, but it's still there.

"Now, if you don't mind," She begins, making me turn my head to her, to see her getting comfortable on her side. And turning her back to me, of course. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep. For real."

"Okay," I reply after a second or two, looking around the room for a few moments. "Can I touch you or do you still think I'm pitying you?"

She sighs, and I even notice her shaking her head at my question. "As long as I'm the little spoon."

Her answer makes me grin, but I sigh purposefully, pretending to be annoyed with her condition. "Well, if you insist," I mutter and lie down, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her towards me until her back is firmly pressed against my front. I can almost feel her rolling her eyes at my actions, but she has to understand me. We've never been closer per se, but now that I've made her available to anyone and everyone, I also feel like I've never been as far from her. It's one of those if-I-let-her-go-she'll-disappear kind of feelings. And it's a shitty feeling to have.

But as long as I'm the one she's sleeping soundly with at the end of the day, like she is right now, I'll survive.

*******

i could honestly write a 15 page update of them talking bc them talking is my favorite thing in the world :]

please vote and comment guys? 200 comments before the next update?? i mean there's lots of things to comment about, the little bits of their pasts and frEYA WANTING FREEDOM, THIS WAS MY IDEA AND I STILL GOT ANNOYED WHILE WRITING THAT PART soooo opinions? pretty please? i love youuuuuu x

((btw i woke up from a nap at 8pm and i was convinced i'd finish this part by midnight. it's 7:04 in the morning as i type this. my love for this story is infiniTE))