Addiction ~ A Niall Horan Fan-fiction

Chapter 15: The Slump

Niall’s P.O.V.

 I fiddled nervously with the dangling straps from my backpack, as I pushed my body towards the dingy side street. The street was different to the rest of the hustle and bustle in London, much calmer and quieter.

I walked past a large family, perched on stoned steps outside of their house. They were chattering excitedly amongst themselves in their native tongue. A small girl belonging to the family stood up and began running in circles around them, as she sang in another language. I shuffled my feet abruptly past them, for fear of recognition.

In that moment, I couldn’t help but wish I was in their shoes – or anybody else’s shoes for that matter. Being able to walk down a street, without thinking of your actions. Being a carefree teenager was all I wanted sometimes. Don’t get me wrong though, I knew I was blessed.

I continued walking until I spotted the familiar banged up building. Memories whooshed back of the night several weeks ago. I felt my face seize up as I had a stabbing pain through my chest. I couldn’t keep torturing myself over it, I needed to get over it. She was fine.

But why wasn’t she answering my calls? Was she really fine or was I trying to deny it? I crossed my fingers in anticipation as I approached the house. I pinged the bell forcefully and waited for the click.

“Hello?” Her voice low and husky as she answered the buzzing.

“Let me in.” I whispered into the intercom, attempting to not gain any attention.

“Who is this?”

“Niall – now let me in!”

I heard another click and pushed lightly against the door, as it swung open. I stepped in to the damp smelling hallway. The thumping of feet rang loudly around the rickety building, I couldn’t help but fear it would shake and break.

Seconds later, Isobel appeared looking in shock. She was wearing chequered pink pyjama pants, with a black tank top. She ran towards me at full-force with open arms, as her blond plaited hair wriggled beside her neck, I placed my arms out to welcome her.

It was as if time suddenly went in slow motion. I watched as she leaped into my arms and was taken aback by the force of it. I felt myself drop backwards at such a slow pace and thumped on the floor with Isobel laying on top of me.

“Oh God! I’m so sorry, Niall!” She called, as she propped herself up on her left arm. She looked at me with a spread of worry across her delicate face.

I burst into laughter at the sight of us. I was sprawled across the dirty carpet, with Isobel sitting on top of me. She hopped off of me and pulled me up with her left arm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, as she made her way towards the unsteady stairs. I followed closely behind her.

“How about a cuppa and then I’ll explain it all?” I called after her, as she pushed open her flat door.

“Alright, sounds good to me.”

I flung myself onto her old sofa and cushioned myself in. I carelessly threw my backpack beside the sofa. I looked around her cramped sitting room, it seemed drearier than usual.

 Several minutes later, Isobel placed a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of me. She pulled her legs up as she relaxed into the sofa, whilst holding tightly onto her mug of tea.

 "So…” She sighed.

“Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” I asked, jumping straight to the point.