When Everything is Nothing. (Niall Horan Fanfic)

Unwanted

The next weeks were really busy.

Niall spent most of his time rehearsing.

I spent most of my time in the control room, starting and stopping songs for people, turning lights on and off, and fixing microphones.

Yet somehow, we made it work.

That Friday night, Niall invited me and the band to his hometown, an hour away, for pizza and a campfire.

~

After finishing the bridge to P!nk's song, "So What", the boys all stopped singing and looked to me, expecting me to begin singing the chorus.

"I don't sing." I laughed.

"Do you dance?" Louis, the one with the dark bowl cut interrogated, as we all relaxed around the firepit.

I shook my head.

"Can you play any instruments?" Liam asked from across the fire, sitting in between Zayn and Louis.

"She's virtually a piano protégé," Niall interrupted.

I snapped my head to my right and looked at him, surprised at how he even knew I played.

"Stan tells me things," he admitted.

I nodded, turning my marshmallow over the flames.

"Niall, do you have a piano?" Harry asked, a huge smile across his face, his green eyes glimmering with the reflection of the campfire.

"Yes, I do," he turned to me, "would you play for us? As we sang along?"

"It would be great practice if we had an accompanist," Zayn added softly.

Hesitantly, I agreed.

I never liked playing in front of people.

Ever.

Niall stood up and took my hand, and we all walked through his backdoor and into his house.

In the corner of his living room was a grande piano.

Niall walked me over to it and we sat down together on the bench, lifting the key cover.

"What songs can you play?" Liam asked.

"Whatever you want." I shrugged.

Everyone thought for a moment.

"'Chasing Pavements' by Adele?"

I nodded. That was one of the few modern songs I knew, figuring out how to play after always listening to it on the radio.

Niall looked at me and one of the corners of his mouth curled up, forming an adorable half-smile. "Whenever you're ready, I'm right here."

He gave me the strength to lift up my hands and begin playing.

All was blocked out, all that existed in my world at the time was me, the piano I was striking chords into, and Niall to my left.

I began pouring all I had into it, letting myself go, forgetting who else was there.

With every set of keys I plinked, I made sure to throw in minuscule transitions to make the piece stronger.

And I lost myself in playing, continuing to the very end of the song.

I hadn't even noticed I had closed my eyes until I opened them at the end.

Everyone was staring at me.

I could feel heat rising in my cheeks.

"I'm sorry... I-I get nervous playing in front of people... I'm sorry if I disappointed you or anything because-" I studdered.

"That was absolutely amazing. We all forgot to sing." Liam interrupted, his eyes widened.

"I didn't know you were that good," Niall commented, emphasizing 'that'.

Everyone else joined in, complimenting my performance.

"Thank you." I replied, embarrassed.

"How long have you been taking lessons?" Zayn inquired softly. He didn't seem to talk very much.

"I haven't." I admitted, shrugging.

"Where did you learn to play like that?" Harry asked.

"In Connemara, where I grew up, I had a lot of... Free time... And my friends and I found a television, and we set it up, but the only channel we got was the piano channel."

"Connemara... Isn't that where that huge fire with all of those orphans dyi-" Louis brought up before stopping, as Niall snapped around and tried to signal him not to ask, but he was too late.

I knew what Louis was meaning to ask.

I nodded, staring down at my hands on my lap.

"Such a shame," Liam started, "you never even got to know who the kids were, there were no existing records of them. I would've wanted to know."

"Izzy... She was fifteen, a year younger than us, African, beautiful, brilliant, aspiring to one day be a dancer.." I shook my head, thinking of all of those times Izzy shared her portions with me when Hellen locked me up, and all of those times she used to try and teach me how to twirl as gracefully as she.

"Ben... Everyone called him Boogie," I continued, "He was thirteen, really short, but he was the fastest kid anyone ever knew. You would see him, and then you just wouldn't. He wanted to be a professional futball player," I explained, remembering racing Boogie in the park when we ran away.

"Jared... My age." I paused for a moment, unsure how to continue, "he wanted to be an 'astromononaut,' as he said when we were little, and fly to the sky. He loved life, everything about it-" I trailed off, not being able to finish.

They were in a better place now, out of misery, abuse, and torture.

And yet, I still didn't want to believe it.

"How do you know all of this?" Liam pondered.

"I grew up in that orphanage."

There was a long pause as nobody knew how to respond.

"Why did only three kids die? Weren't there more?" Louis finally concluded.

"There were others, but they all came and went. Until Stan adopted me, the four of us were known as the 'perms.'"

"Why?" Niall asked.

"Everyone wants a kid. Every young couple that came in wanted a cute little kid that they could raise and love as their own.

Nobody, absolutely no one, wanted us."