Plain Pain: A Niall Horan Fan Fiction

Chapter 22

(A/N): Dedication to: @foreveryoung723 !

It feels like a year that I haven't updated! I'm so sorry for making you wait, but I've been studying my ass off for that past week and I didn't have time to write.

Enjoy! :)

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"And then he insisted on staying the night at the hospital with me so...I let him," I shrugged though I knew Trisha couldn't see me through the phone.

"You didn't let him because he insisted. You let him because you wanted him to stay," Trisha argued and I rolled my eyes, lifting my injured foot up and resting it on top of the coffee table as I sat on the couch.

"I couldn't care less if he stayed or not. He was just being a stubborn ass and I didn't have the energy to argue with him, that's all," I shot back, not sure whom I was trying to convince, me or her.

"Rachel, will you stop lying to yourself and admit that you actually miss him? After all he is your best friend," Trisha said. She just loved to play therapist sometimes.

"Was," I corrected.

"Right, was, he wants you back," She stated.

I scoffed, "Oh, so now that he's famous he thinks he can get whatever he wants?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Okay, this is totally irrelevant. What does his fame have to do with him wanting his best friend back?" Trisha asked, her tone getting slightly colder.

"It does because-" my sentence was cut off as the doorbell went off, "Someone's at the door, it's probably Niall. He said he'd come and check on me before his flight back to London today," I rolled my eyes.

"My god, that's so sweet," Trisha gushed as I put my foot down slowly, making the black medical boot press lightly against the floor.

"No it's not, it's stupid. He treats me like a little girl. Doesn't he realize that I'm eighteen and that I don't need to be checked on every five seconds? Anyway, I gotta go. I'll call you back tonight, alright?" I said, limping towards the front door.

"Okay, bye," Trisha said.

"Later," I hung up and threw my phone across the room, expecting it to land on the couch but instead, it landed on the floor. Groaning, I opened the door expecting to see Niall, but instead it was a man I didn't quite recognize.

"Um, can I help you?" I furrowed my eyebrows as my hand went up to fix my frizzy bed hair.

"I'm Alan. I work at Syco management and I've been sent here on Mr. Cowell's behalf," he informed me politely with a posh, British accent, fixing the tie around his neck.

"Oh, uh, please come in," I opened the door a little wider, reluctantly letting the man inside. I looked around my messy home and felt extremely embarrassed.

I limped my way towards the couch, picking up the few clothing items carelessly littered across so the man could sit down.

I quickly went to my bedroom, chucking the clothes across the room then returning to the living room. O say on the chair that was next to the sofa on which this Alan dude was sat.

"I'm sorry about the mess," I said sheepishly.

"Oh no, that's okay. I'm sorry about the sudden visit, but the decision was also very abrupt," Alan reasoned and I nodded.

What decision?

"Um, would you like anything to drink?" I asked him.

"No, no, thank you. I'm just here to offer you something and then I'll be on my way," he smiled and I furrowed my eyebrows.