Simply Perfect: Niall Horan Fan Fiction

Niall

Niall

It was one of those days where I just wanted to get away from everyone. I didn't feel like talking. I just wanted to be alone; just a boy and his thoughts. The lads and I had been really stressed with all of our interviews and appearances recently, and it was taking its toll on me. Maybe I'd just go to the mall and peoplewatch. For some reason, it always made me feel better. It was peaceful, unless fans spotted me, but every time I'd done it in the past, nobody had ever bothered me. It sort of made me feel unwanted, you know that feeling when you feel small and insignificant? Yeah, that's what it always felt like.

I had just been surfing Twitter while eating a bowl of cereal on the couch. It was always nice to see the support from fans, but it seemed like for every compliment, there were two or three haters constantly trying to tear me down. It was hard to deal with sometimes. When I got bored of scrolling, I went to get dressed. I reached into the drawers of my dreser and pulled out a new pair of socks and jeans before grabbing a plain white v-neck tee out of the closet. After a nice shower, I changed and grabbed the keys to my Range Rover from the kitchen counter. Walking down the familiar hallway to the garage, I clicked the unlock button on the key fob, and the lights of the car flashed on as the horn sounded. 

I hopped into the driver seat, immediately cranking up the stereo and singing along with Billy Clyro to Many of Horror. It was a sad song, but it fit my mood, and that was all that mattered. I belted out the lyrics as I made my way to the nearby shopping center. I found a decent parking spot and walked inside to my usual spot, on a bench near a Baskin Robbins in case I got hungry, or decided to eat my feelings. Sometimes I thought that maybe it would be better if I could go back to being just another normal nobody. I'd never have to deal with the stress, or run from screaming girls, none of it. But I regretted even thinking that. Who was I kidding? I loved being popular, especially since I'd never been that kind of guy before. No one was ever interested in me, but now that I was famous, I appreciated being noticed. But constantly being watched by the press and millions of fans was like living in a fishbowl. 

My thoughts shifted to my two now dead fish, Ben and Jerry. I'm not sure why I named them that. Perhaps it was after the ice cream that I really loved when I was younger. Now, ice cream was all I could concentrate on, so I stood up from the bench to head to Baskin Robbins. It wasn't Ben and Jerry's, but it was better than nothing.