A Thousand Ships (A Niall Horan Fanfiction)

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen: The Best Thing

(Niall's P.O.V.)

            "What do I even do?" I cried. Sitting in my room, as in my old room at my mum's house, I was surrounded by the boys yet again talking about my situation with Belle. They all looked at me helplessly.

"Can I even do anything at this point?" But no one was willing to say anything, either in fear of giving me false hope, or breaking what was left of me with the truth.

"Louis please, you still talk to her." He looked at me with a sad face.

"She's just as hurt as you, that's all I can say. She avoids talking about you at all costs."

"But I talk about her all the time! She must hate me if she can't even talk about it."

"It's a different way of coping," Harry explained calmly.

"Bullshit," I spat. Everyone remained silent.

"Can you tell her something for me?" I asked Louis. This was about the millionth time.

"You know she won't hear it," he said. I let out a sigh,

"Yeah you're right. I'm just so lost. And I don't want her to think I've given up because I stopped calling."

"She definitely does not think that, trust me," Liam said.

"Louis?"

"Like I said, she doesn't want to talk about it, but I think it's because she's so close to caving in. I feel torn because you're my mate, but she's my friend too and she really doesn't want to hear from you anymore, but at the same time you shouldn't give up."

"So are you saying I should call her again?"

"I think you should," Zayn said.

"But what do I say?"

"Just speak from your heart," Harry said.

"What if she doesn't answer?"

"Leave a voicemail," Liam said. I looked at Louis. He nodded.

"We'll leave the room."

            It took me a moment to compose myself. I had to breathe slowly for a little bit to calm down, and then I had to think about what I would say either in the situation where she answered, or the more likely case that she would not. I finally hit call and it rang and rang before finally hitting voicemail.

"Please leave your message after the beep," read the automated message. I held my breath before the beep came, and even then it took me a moment.

"Hey... it's me, Niall. I know I haven't tried calling in a while, but I thought I would give it another go. I miss you so much, and you're the only thing I can think or talk about. Just so you know I've been sober since the last time we talked, and I admit that it was completely my fault. I understand why you left, but I'm asking for one more chance. Maybe you don't believe in second chances, but dear god I hope you do because I need one. And after that you would never have an issue with me again. Of course we would fight but I would never be that mean again. I didn't mean what I said, because I do need you. I need you so bad, and that's been made so obvious to me now. And I-" But the machine cut me off after that. All I could do was wait for some kind of response. So I sunk back into my loneliness.

(Isabella's P.O.V.)

            After an attempted day at cheering me up I returned home with just as little happiness as I had been with the last couple weeks. My friends were of little condolence as much as they tried to help. They had planned today as a means of getting me to perk up a little, maybe enjoy something, and as much as I loved them it was no use. I was still a miserable loaf.