Without You - Niam Horayne

Chapter 27 - The Aftermath Is Brutal Payne

Another chapter! Woohoo! I just started a Ziam Fic, and am going to start writing that while this is going on. Please check it out!

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Liam’s P.O.V.

            We arrived back to my flat late at night. The air was cold, and it felt good, even though I wasn’t wearing a coat and would probably catch a cold—I had given my coat to Niall, just to make sure he was warm enough.

            “I’m so tired,” Niall moaned, closing his eyes and leaning on my shoulder. I picked him up bridal style, catching him off guard. His eyes widened, but I just gave him a slight smile—ignoring the burning of my arms—and walked to my flat, closing the door behind us with my foot. I then carried him up the steps and into my room, setting him gently on the bed and starting to undress him. While I did so, I kissed his neck and face lightly, getting small but lovely moans to slip between Niall’s lips. I hope he didn’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t planning on having my way with him. When he was only in his boxers, he reached forward and tried to pull me on top of him. I resisted.

            “L-Liam,” Niall said, his eyes widening and sparkling in the limited light.

            “I’m sorry baby, not tonight,” I said, pulling away and tucking my duvet around him.

            “Wait, aren’t you at least coming to sleep then?” Niall asked, looking really disappointed, like he may cry, and really confused.

            A lump formed in my throat. What was wrong with me? I felt like I was going to be sick. I thought that getting home and being with Niall would help, but it was just making things worse. “Sorry baby,” I said again, “Go to sleep,”

            I ran my hands through his hair, and hummed gently, trying to get him to sleep. When he finally drifted off into dreamland, I wandered down to the living room and made a bed on the couch. Why couldn’t I bring myself to sleep next to Niall? Why couldn’t I do it? Maybe it was because the kidnapper’s smell lingered on my body, no matter how long I showered. Maybe it was because I still felt his hands on my waist. Maybe it was because my arms burned constantly. Maybe it was because my smiles were becoming rare, and my talking scarce. What was happening? I didn’t want to fade away again. But I could feel it happening. I could feel myself being destroyed slowly, being ripped apart.

            I forced myself to lie down on the couch, and at least try to sleep. Instead, I ended up staring at the ceiling, wondering if I should go check on Niall. Then I convinced myself that letting him sleep would be better. He was fine.

            When sleep still didn’t come after an hour, I stood up, and began to pace back and forth across the living room, my hands behind my back.

            When I still wasn’t worn out, after another hour, I decided that an early morning jog would do me good. I slipped on my running shoes and a jumper, and headed outside, not caring that it was ungodly early and still pitch black outside.

            Yet another hour later, I returned home. It was still dark, and I walked into the living room, kicking off my shoes. Finally, I was feeling a bit more tired. I headed towards the bathroom, discarding my clothing as I went.