little do you know: the december drabbles // niall horan au

day 26: eating candy canes (in which niall just wants to be left alone)

Niall didn't notice when he did it but he'd managed to eat a good chunk out of a box of candy canes that Liam had left lying around in the kitchen. They were sour patch flavored and Niall was about halfway through an orange one, eyes trained on some cheesy romantic comedy film on the television that he was about ninety-nine percent sure was based off a Nicholas Sparks novel, when Mona came bustling though the door.

"Niall Horan, why weren't you answering your phone?" Mona stood in front of him, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. If Niall cared to give an answer he would've told her that he put his phone on do-not-disturb mode after she'd sent the first text but he really wasn't in the mood. So instead of giving her an answer, he simply scooted over so he'd be able to see the television, and continued to nibble on his candy cane. She sighed, sitting next to him. "I bought burgers." When he looked at her, she was smiling, eyebrows raised in that way when she wanted to get him to smile too.

He looked at the television again. "Don't want burgers."

"Niall," she sighed again. "What's wrong?" Mona placed her hand on his forehead, and he immediately wanted to push her away, but he didn't. "Are you still sick? You were fine yesterday." He tried not to look into her dark eyes that always seemed to twinkle, as if they were two bright stars in the galaxy of Mona, but Niall figured they probably were, because he felt as if he had tasted them on her lips that night in the elevator and the taste was still lingering on his tongue.

So he jammed the candy cane back into his mouth and tried to focus on the citrusy tang of the orange flavor, and he sought to ignore the flash of hurt that had sparked in Mona's stars for eyes.

Niall was always honest with himself, he was pretty sure he was in love with Mona Shaw, because she smelled like mint and she reminded him of home and one day he'd been deliriously out of it and told her to never change her mint-scented lotion and she never did and—that had to mean something, right?

Niall was always honest with himself and he was about ninety percent sure he's in love Mona and ninety percent of him was hurting because Mona didn't love him back.

He was pathetic.

"Niall!" Mona was yanking the candy cane from his mouth and tossing it on the table next to the McDonald's bag she'd brought in, lips pursed into a thin line and Niall decided he had to stop looking at her fucking lips because he'd go crazy if he didn't. "Stop ignoring me. Talk to me, what's wrong?"

Niall didn't really know the source of the brewing pot of annoyance that had been stirring in him all morning, but Mona was only adding to his irritability and he didn't know why. "Stop." He attempted to swat her hands away but she kept prodding. "Stop," he repeated, this time, a bit louder, and he figured that if he didn't leave, he'd just end up yelling at her, and neither of them wanted that to happen. So he turned the television off and stomped towards his room, burrowing under the covers of his unmade bed and hoping that Mona would take the hint and leave him alone for a while.

She didn't.

Because not even moments later, he felt her peeling away the blanket, fingers skimming along his skin from the hinge of his jaw to the curve of his shoulders, pressing firm circles, just like she did all those days ago at the cabin. And the gesture made him want to tug her into the blanket with him but that ninety percent was still winning over and all he wanted was to be alone.

"Namona," he groaned, swatting her hands away and pulling the covers over his head again. "Stop."

"Tell me what's wrong." Her voice was soft and her hands were on his back and he was just one guy he couldn't deal with all of these emotions. "You always tell me."

"I just want you to leave."

Mona sighed. Again. The sound curled around his heart and squeezed. "Don't be like this."

But there was a storm brewing inside Niall and he couldn't control his irritation, even though he knew there wasn't even a valid reason for him to be that angry. He flung the covers off and glared at Mona, jaw clenched. "What do you mean?" he gritted. "Why is it that you always want to know why I'm upset but I'm not allowed to ask when it comes to you?"

Mona looked a bit taken aback, recoiling only slightly at Niall's outburst. But she stood her ground, brows furrowing, and Niall could see her trying to figure him out with the way she squinted at him. "Niall—"

"Come on, Mona." His fingers were shaking and he was subconsciously hoping that he didn't say anything stupid. "Every time your story comes up you fucking...run away and change the subject. But, like, when I'm upset, then you want to know everything? Where's the fucking logic?"

She pursed her lips again. "That's not the same thing and you know it."

Niall rolled his eyes. "Literally all I know is that you ran away from San Francisco and that your dad died. You don't tell me everything, so I don't have to tell you everything either."

Mona huffed in frustration. "You told me whatever you did because you wanted to, not because I asked. Stop trying to pin this on me like I'm the bad person."

"Then leave," he thundered, arm flying towards the door. "If you don't like what I have to say then just go and leave me alone. Please."

Mona scowled, crossing her arms over her chest as she attempted to figure out why the hell he was so angry but he didn't let her, turning his face away. "Niall, what the fuck?" He knew she was trying to control her own annoyance, because she'd started to consciously even out her breaths. "You're saying that like you want me to go back to San fucking Francisco or something."

Niall scoffed, pulling the blanket back over his head as he fell back onto his pillow with a huff, his glasses almost poking him in the eye before he remembered to take them off. "Go back to San Francisco. See if I care," he muttered into his pillow.

He almost wished she didn't hear it, but he knew that would be too good to be true. Mona did in fact hear his words and mimicked his scoff with one of her own. "Fine," she spat, and he heard her stomping towards the door. "I'll go back to San Francisco." He knew she was still standing there, waiting for him to respond. He didn't give her one. "And you'll be alone," she prodded, waiting. "In New York." Niall still didn't say anything. "By yourself."

Eventually, she realized that he was just going to let her go, and trudged out the door, being sure to slam it, just for him to hear. After a few lingering moments of pure silence, he pushed his head into the pillow and screamed, because he was stupid and childish and he ten percent of him hated what he did, but ninety percent of him was still hurting.

He was pathetic.