Dead Stars

March 5th - Manchester, U.K.

You came knocking on my door at 2AM. The first few times you did this, you were just bored and wanted some company. We would usually just watch movies all night with a tub of our favorite cookie dough ice cream to share or we would sit on the sofa and talk about how the stars are galaxies away or why Captain America is the best superhero of all time.

Tonight was different. As soon as I opened the door and saw the look on your face, I knew we weren't going to talk about stars or superheroes in tight costumes.

Before I could even begin to ask you what was wrong, you opened your mouth and said, "She broke up with me."

That caught me by surprise. And by the look on your face, I wasn't the only one. I tried to think of something to say that wouldn't make me look completely ridiculous or stupid, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, "Oh, honey."

I wish I had said something like "Oh well, she was a bitch anyway" or "It's her loss." But, of course, I had to be the stupid Peyton I am and say something completely lame.

I opened the door for you to come in. You walked straight into the kitchen, grabbed the whole tray of beers that we had just bought a couple of nights ago, and headed back to the living room. You grabbed two bottles and opened them both. As you hand one to me, you smiled sadly and said, "Bottoms up!"

We plopped ourselves on the couch. I turned the TV on and put it on your favorite channel— the cooking network. You have always loved the cooking network. There are days we spend just huddled up on the couch, watching the cooking network and getting ourselves hungry. The odd thing is: you never even cook. I would always remind you that you hate cooking, but you always answer me and say that you love watching other people cook. It's therapeutic, you say. 

As we watched someone make up a salad, you just stayed quiet. You weren't even watching. You just sat there, beer in hand, staring into space. That's how you always are when you're upset.

You wouldn't utter a word. From the years I've known you, I knew better than to try and strike up a conversation with you. You wanted to be left alone with your own thoughts, so I stayed quiet, pretending to watch the cooking network, but secretly worrying about you.

Hours pass and you were still quiet. I, eventually, fell asleep. But I woke up when you stood up from the couch. You grabbed your coat and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked you.

"Home." Was the only reply I got. 

You opened the door, looked back at me, and smiled softly. You left without another word. And I was left wondering what on earth went wrong. I grabbed all the bottles of beer we drank tonight and brought it to the kitchen when I heard another knock.

I opened the door and there you stood, out of breath. "She told me she no longer loves me." You say, sadness evident in your eyes. "She said she was seeing this other guy and that she was in love with him."

As soon as I opened my arms, you fell right in them and held me as if you were holding on to your life. I didn't say anything else. When you let go, you had tears in your eyes. "She doesn't love me anymore, Peyton. She loves someone else."

I looked softly at you and held the side of your face with the palm of my hand. "Let's go back inside okay?"

You nod your head softly and followed me back inside my apartment. I told you to sit on the sofa while I went to the kitchen. To my surprise, you listened. You never normally listen to me-- you're as stubborn as they get. Believe me. 

When I got back to the living room, I had two bowls of mac and cheese and two mugs of coffee. I handed you a bowl. You looked at me and smiled softly, "Mac and cheese? It's five in the morning."

"I wasn't prepared. Besides, nothing like a nice bowl of quick n easy mac and cheese can fix up your broken heart." I told you, which made you smile. You look so much better with a smile on your face, I hope you know that.

I quickly ran to my room, grabbed all the pillows, and my duvet and brought it out. You stand up to help me and we created our own little pillow-land. We got cozied up in the warmth of the duvet.

This reminded me of the forts we made when we were younger. We would gather up all the blankets, bed sheets, and pillows from my room and build a fort. We had our flashlights with us and pretended to have all these different kinds of adventures— it could be a rocket ship, a pirate ship, a house, a car. It was anything and everything we wanted it to be.

"Okay," I said, breaking the silence. "What happened?"

You sighed softly, looking at his mug. "We were supposed to go on that fancy dinner tonight for our anniversary, right? We got to the restaurant and finished our food and everything was going great."

"Until?"

"We were drinking our champagne and I noticed she looked quite bothered about something, so I asked her and she said there was something she needed to tell me." You continued your story, "Then she told me."

"She said she was seeing someone else and that she had fallen in love with him. I asked her for how long and she said for a couple of months. A couple of months. All this time she has been dating someone behind my back and she had to tell me on the day of our anniversary."

"And you know what the worst part was?" You asked me, "She used the classic 'it's not you, it's me' line."

I groaned and yelled. "Oh that's bullshit!"

"I know." You agreed. You took in a deep breath and let out a long sigh. "I feel so stupid. I thought she was the one."

I put my hand on your hand and smiled sadly, "I'm sorry."

You shrugged. "Seriously," I tell you. You looked up at me with a little hope in your eyes. "She is stupid. She was stupid to let go of you, Niall. You're a good guy. You're sweet, you're funny, and you have an amazing heart. If any girl or anyone, for that matter, refuses to see that, they're blind."

I mean it. And I'm not just saying this because you're my best friend. I'm saying this because I see it. I have always seen it.

And maybe because... Maybe because I am in love with you.

It's been two years, Niall. Two years since I realized this and how I wish you could see yourself the way I do. All these girls you went out with, especially Lauren... they don't see what I see. They don't know the thoughts that make up your mind at four in the morning, they don't know how weird you dance when Love On Top by Beyoncé plays, and they don't know how you see the world for it's beauty.

But most of all, they don't see how wonderful your heart is. I have always admired you for the way you loved the world and the people in it.

You put your head on my shoulder and we sat there for the rest of the morning. When it was time for you to go to work, you grabbed your stuff and headed out.

Before you did, I asked you if you were okay and if you needed me to come with you. You smiled at me and kissed me on the top of my head, like you always do, and put your arm around me. "I'll be fine, P. Don't you worry."

I smiled back at you and said, "Oh, I'm not worried about you. I just know how much you hate being a loner."

"Oh shut up." You rolled your eyes. You pulled me in for another hug. "Don't you have work today?"

"Day off." I smiled.

"Lucky." You quietly groaned, "I'll see you later, alright?"

I nodded my head and told you I will be right here, waiting for you. Like I always have been.

-P.