One Direction One Shots 2

Bully Niall (Niall)

There are plenty of people I could like.

Better people, nicer people. People who are way more appealing. But, no it has to be Niall Fucking Horan. The biggest idiot I know.

Now, some of you may not know Niall and you better thank god you don’t. Although, if attend Livingston High, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.

You see Niall is one of those typical high school guys who everyone knows, and sadly loves. You’re probably imaging some douche that gets with a different girl every night, parties his ass off, yet he’s the star football player. If you’re thinking that, than you’re thinking way wrong. He’s what many others would call popular. Well Niall is what I would call a loser. A goofy, dumb, big headed loser. Basically, the “class clown.”

Every waking second of his life, he seemed to be joking. Never actually serious, nor calm. Joking. Why would anyone like that? Why doesn’t everyone think of him like I do? I completely hate him.

Well, I thought I did.

Every day at school it’s always the same thing. Boring classes and stuck up bitches. All day Niall would make fun on the losers of the school, which is a category I fall into. He would always make his jokes towards them. Addressing how they looked, what they were wearing, even how they smelt. And every time a joke was spilled out, Niall got a roar of laughter from his classmates.

But the thing is, Niall never picked on me. When I’d be around another “loser” he’d go to town making his comrades howl with laughter. After he’d finish whoever I’d been standing with, he’d move on. Sometimes his friends would ask him “Well what about the hag next to her?” or “Hey you missed a spot!” Each time Niall would look at me intently, shrug and make up some excuse. Never has Niall joked at me, his friends would go to town, but never Niall. At first, I was glad he would ignore me. I was Niall free. But it started to get at me. Was there something wrong with me? Am I not…I don’t know, a big enough loser for his standards? Oh wait, of course I am

Every day I get cackling girls telling me to crawl back in my garbage bin or give to the Joker his makeup back. Some guys would trip me then complain about having to burn their shoes.

Still Niall Horan would never stoop to their “level.”

Now this is already bad enough, but it gets worse.

I’ve started to find myself dreaming about him. I know weird, right? I’ll just be on my laptop in my bedroom when I see a picture of a blue-eyed blonde, not even similar looking to Niall, and I start thinking about him. It starts of subtle, but elevates into some strange things. I’ll get to thinking about his lips, his braces, the freckles that peak through the dip of his V-necks. I’ll start wondering how he’d look in a certain pair of jeans or a tank-top. Then I start picturing him naked. Those are the hardest thoughts to push out of my mind. The crazy stalker naked thoughts don’t stop there. I’ll start to nearly feel his skin as I’m running my hands down his bare chest. Or how his hot breath would give me goose-bumps, as it’s flowing onto my sweaty skin. These are the things that let me know I’m really effing mental. Niall Horan? God no. None of this would have happened if I didn’t go to school just a day ago like I wanted. Niall wouldn’t be invading my dreams if I’d just stay home.

There was slick ice on the sidewalk that morning and I was already late. My feet were slipping and sliding on the slick surface. I had managed to make it nearly to school when I fell. My feet hit an extra slippery patch and onto my ass. I had screamed in pain. Not only did my rear hurt, my heel slipped the wrong way. All my chances of making it on time were quite low. There I sat, searing pain coursing through my body, all. Until my amazing, chivalrous, knight in shining armor ran to my rescue. It just had to be Niall. His cheeks were flushed and he was jogging carefully towards me. His blonde quiff bounced at he ran and his necklace popped up smacking him in the chin. He finally reached me. The poor thing’s throat must have been killing him; he was coughing up a storm.