Take Me As I Am (Completed)

Alternate Ending ~ Niall

Alternate Ending

~ Niall ~

Just as I inserted the disk to play Fifa, a very determined voice started to yell out my name. I groaned, not bothering to respond or get up from my caccooned form on the couch.

"Al! Seriously, come here please!" Niall continued to pester. I considered ignoring him again, but I had already beaten him in the last four video games we had played in the past twenty-four hours, so I figured I was already treading on a thin wire. Niall got grumpy if I ignored him after trampling him in Fifa. He felt as though I should comfort him and tell him it was all luck. Which I would then proceed to do, even though I knew it was anything but luck. I'm a skilled video game player, what can I say?

"What?" I asked once I had managed to get off the couch in the gaming room and enter the living room. Apparently popstars have nice houses, something I took note of once Niall had managed to worm his way into my affections. It was about a month or two after I had been home and his continual Skype calls and texts started to be what I looked forward to every day. Irish people seem to grow on you.

"So I was writing a song-"

"Isn't that your job?" I quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing across my lips. He hrumphed, his face falling ever so slightly. "Don't get all grumpy. Go on."

"I was writing-"

"We already established that," I interrupted again, not being able to resist the urge to annoy him further. 

"Go away."

"Okay." I shrugged, pivoting on my toes and starting to exit the room.

I made it about three steps before his hand grabbed onto my forearm. I turned to see his guitar pick in his mouth, hair messy as he glared at me. I grinned innocently at him. "You know I didn't mean for you to leave."

"You shouldn't say things you don't mean." I responded quickly with a shrug. He pulled my arm just hard enough that I went tumbling onto him. Thank goodness his guitar was next to him on the couch and it didn't get broken. The grumpiness level would have gone sky high and I would have had to find a bomb shelter to hide in. His arms locked around me and I tried to get up. "What am I? Five? Let me go!"

"I'll let you go if you tell me you love me," he negotiated. 

"Okay, I'm not the five year old. You are." I said before wriggling out of his arms. Once I was standing up, I shot him a triumphant grin. "Ha!"

His face fell as he took on the expression of a wounded puppy. "I just wanted you to say you love me… Is that so wrong?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "But I do love you. And your big idiot moments of Irishness."