Stockholm Syndrome

Chapter 8 - Randoms

(Nialls POV)

I can feel the warm cloth being pressed against my forehead and I instinctively flinch as a from the pain. Emma shakes her head and places her other hand behind my head to keep me from moving.

"What happened?" She frowned in concentration as she spoke, and I tried to focus on that rather than the pain she was causing me.

"I hit my head," Is the only thing I can think to respond as she works.

"I can see that. But how?" She pressed me for information I'm hesitant to give.

"I made a bit of a scene." I admit, wanting very badly to stare down at the table, but Emma's gentle grip on my head stops be from doing that.

"Niall got angry and was about to shout the truth about Harry and I to a whole bunch of people." Louis walks into the room carrying bandaids and some unidentifiable type of candy. I scowl, wishing for the familiar taste of candy hearts and wishing that Louis would shut up. But of course he continued. "So Manegment knocked him down and he hit his head on the edge of the stage."

Emma nods. "And that's what they're hmm blaming me for?"

Wait. What?

But Louis seems to agree. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

Emma shrugs. "Could be worse I suppose."

Louis smiles and leaves the room, leaving me with my thoughts, which are moving several thousand miles a minute. What do they mean that they blamed her for tackling me? How would she even know that? Have they been talking without me? What is even going on? And what even are "randoms" and why does Louis think that they're an acceptable replacement for my candy hearts?

"Are you okay Niall?" Emma suddenly asks. B now she's wrapping my head up in soft white gauze. "You look a bit...overwhelmed."

I Bite the inside of my lip, a habit I've had for years. I can still feel the scars if I run my tounge over My bottom lip. Bbecause Emma is right. I do feel overwhelmed right now. Just too confused to think. My head hurts as if I got hit by a ton of bricks, nobody is explaining anything, and my candy hearts are missing. Not to mention I can't seem to keep a logical train of thought going for more tHan a few seconds. What the he'll is wrong with me?

"Niall it's okay to feel overwhelmed." Emma sets a hand on my shoulder, speaking softly. "You don't have to be perfect."

Emma sounds genuinely truthful, and I feel like crying. She couldn't possibly know that my entire life had been spent trying to be the perfect one. In front of parents, in front of fans, in front of management, and even in front of the rest of the band. I was supposed to be the perfect child, the good boy. But Emma didn't know that. Her words couldn't possibly have the depth I had attributed to them. And I checked wouldn't break down in front of her. She was only even speaking to me because I have a gash in my head. She only net me yesterday, and there is no way she could not hate me after everything I've put her through.

"Niall?" She asks, sitting down across from me. "Can I ask you a question that might seem a bit...unprecedented?"

I can't think of any questions that thousands of people wouldn't already know the answer to, so I shrug.

"Does it ever get old?" She asks. "Being famous?"

It does. I want to scream out to the world a million times that being famous does get old after a while and that I would give anything t th o back to my childhood home for a few months. But Emma doesn't know me. There is no way she would be able to understand how much I really hated the fame. So I simply shrug.

"It isn't great, but you learn to love it." I lie blatantly.

She looks at me for several seconds before picking up the bag of candy Louis had brought me.

"What even are randoms?" She asks, and I burst out laughing.

"I certainly have no idea," I admit.

She shakes her head. "Louis is so strange."

"You're telling me?" I laugh. Louis was indeed strange. The oldest of our group, he was by far the bravest, but he froze up when he was around Harry. And you could never get him to do something without a funny twist.

She leans back in her chair, staring at me. After a moment, I look down at the table self-conscious of how I must look. I only woke up a while ago and haven't combed my hair, brushed my teeth, or even changed clothes. I must look horrible.

Emma lets out a small laugh and I look up. "What?" I ask, wishing for my candy.

She shakes her head. "You do realize that you are the Niall Horan, member of the famous boy band One Direction, right?"

I nod in confusion. What's her point.

"You of all people have no right to be self conscious. Millions of girls would pay to see you like this." She points out, and I feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

Emma shakes her head solemnly. "You aren't very good at this whole being famous thing." I laugh a her statement, and Emma joins me. As our laughs fade, Liam walks in, his face deadly serious.

"Management is here." He informs us, and you can cut the tension with a knife. The only noise is shallow breaths as the rest of the band joins Emma and I in the kitchen. After a while, Zayn breaks the silence.

"Niall, are you ready for your funeral?" And that is all it takes for them to be back to their normal selves, smiling and putting their arms around Emma and I. Even when the world is crashing down around us, these guys have my back.