Sweet Dreams (A Niall Horan Fanfic)

Prologue

-Niall-

The air was cold and crisp, the overcast sky painted light gray in color, there wasn't a sound to be heard. He was alone, not like this had been any different then normal. The young lad was used to being by himself, used to being surrounded by silence, accustomed to the scenery.  

He pops in a cigarette between his two plump lips, the last in his Malboro pack, before reaching in his pocket to retrieve his small black lighter and bringing it up to his smoke to light it. After a few futile attempts he finally lit the fag, inhaling, tasting the nicotine as it glides over his taste buds.  

It would have been safe to say he was having a long day, even if the day had just begun.  

With one hand, he keeps the cigarette in place. With the other, he sweeps it through his messy blonde hair, which was styled in a perfect quiff only a mere few hours ago. His eyes, which were once ocean blue and lively, were now as dull as the murky sea, bags placed under his bottom eyelids.  

He removes the cigarette from his lips, exhaling all his past, present and future stresses.  

His gap year between college and uni had drastically extended itself to three years, and three years could really change a person. A life of nonstop partying, drinking and other recreational activities (if you know what I mean), had changed him. The once carefree, happy-go-lucky lad with dreams of becoming a famous musician, was now a distant and fading memory.  

He was now a mysterious entity filled with carelessness and lustful desires.  

And there was a difference between carefree and careless.  

Sitting on the curb of a quiet London street, pavement cold under his bum, he examines his surroundings. It was rare to see so few people on the street, being that he was in the city, and he kind of liked it..... it reminded him of home.  

Truthfully it was peaceful. There weren't any people sat at the bus stop across the street, nor were their any people lined up at the ATM close behind him. The small shops along the road were either closed or empty. The street across from him held an old boarded-up pub, the red sign above it read 'Snooks', but was sadly missing the first o and half the s was broken. Along side the pub sat a small coffee shop, the face of it just being a massive window. The well built blonde could see the small barista, twirling her hair with her fingers out of boredom. Her hair was a reddish-brown color, not exactly like his friend Ed's (who was full on ginger), but more like how you'd see it in a Pantene commercial. Even from across the way the young man could tell the bird was fit, fitter than the last couple one's he gave a good fuck too, and maybe one day she'd get lucky and he'd take the time to pull her.  

But at the moment, the kid didn't feel like having sex. He just wanted to be alone.  

With one last inhale and a flick of his wrist, he tosses his cigarette butt down a storm drain, before exhaling.  

I really need to stop. He thinks, but inside he knew he wouldn't. This was his safe haven, his get away from an empty and dangerous life.  

Because he was dangerous.  

He was reckless, and stupid, tough and deceiving. He didn't care who he hurt along the way, because his universe was centered around only one thing...  

himself.  

He begins eyeing his knuckles, the small scratches and scrapes from the bar fight he'd been in a couple hours previous were just now starting to heal over. He smirks recalling the surprised look the rather large man had stamped on his face after the kid executed a perfect punch to his nose, blood gushing from it.