Still Yours

2 / Big Words

DAY 32 WITHOUT NIALL  /   DAY 10 WITH NIALL

... in which Laney does a d-thing with the charming "stranger" that won't stop texting her. It's obvious that Niall likes her, but Laney's a nervous, anxious little mess and too scared to admit that she's head over heels for him already as well. Maria says it's fate. Laney says it's insane. Luckily, d-things are a little less stressful when they happen in cars. And who knows where Laney and Niall end up at the end of the long ride?

It's a short, rather distant embrace, but our bodies are close enough to make mine all tingly and warm on the inside. It's been too long since I felt a boy's body against mine. The brief moment in which he just holds me is enough for me to fantasize about how wonderful it must be to fall asleep against this beautiful body, with our limbs intertwined, wrapped around each other, hands locked.

DAY 32 WITHOUT NIALL

Even nightmares of losing him are easier to bear than waking up in a cold bed at 2 AM and knowing I already did.

He's gone.

And he'll never come back.

I keep my eyes closed. There's nothing there to see in this dark room. No clear night sky before the windows. No silver stars, no moon. And no silhouette to my right. No outline of a nose I loved to kiss so much and no parted lips that kissed me back as they curled up to a smirk and whispered a raspy little I love you. Go back to sleep, Laney. I love you.

But I can't sleep, Niall.

I'm always tired, but I can't fucking sleep.

Since he died, I spend my nights slipping from one nightmare into another and reality is, by far, the worst of them.

Sleep, to me, is just a few hours of unconsciousness rather than rest. Three, maybe four if I'm lucky. Pitch black, empty hours, in which I lie there clinging to his blanket, inhaling what's left of his scent, and then, I wake up gasping for air as if I've been drowning in my dreams.

Dreams in which he's here with me, holding me, telling me it's going to be alright. But I know he's lying.

Dreams in which he kisses me, pushing his body up against mine, telling me he's there for me. But I know he's lying.

Dreams in which he's dying, dying again, smiling through the pain, telling me he doesn't mind and that it's just his time to go, that he has to leave. But I know he's lying.

It wasn't his time to go.

And he didn't have to leave.

For fuck's sake.

He had to stay.