You Found Me [Nouis]

Prologue

The Fault in Our Stars rest in Niall's lap, propped up, open, against his legs. Niall sat the same way, in the grass, leaning against a willow tree somewhere in the woods near his house. The trees' leaves fell rapidly around him, like a pink and white rainstorm.

He watched them sadly, sighing silently against the cool breeze stirring the leaves around. He wished he could stay here forever. This was a moment he found beauty in his life, and those moments were very rare. Those moments all happened here, hidden by the hanging branches and fragile leaves of this tree, watching deer and rabbits and squirrel run around free, back to their homes, to their family, to their carefree nature.

Niall wanted to be like them.

The blonde boy shifted, uncomfortable, and turned his attention back to the book that lay open in his lap. He brushed away a leaf that had fallen on it, covering the word beautiful. Niall smiled. Beautiful had to be one of his favorite words. He just wished he heard it more often.

Soon enough, it was falling dark and Niall had to leave. He went home to his drunken father and bruised, passed out mother. He went straight upstairs, book tucked under his arm. His father didn't say word about Niall skipping dinner.

Niall slid the book into his book shelf, setting his alarm for six. He took one last look out of his window, admiring the dimly lit sky, the colorful leaves that floated against the cool wind, and the parents ushering their kids, who were playing in the brown and yellow leaves, back inside to sleep.

Niall climbed in bed, curling in on himself under the sheets. He thought about school tomorrow, the first day of the new year.

He wouldn't talk to anybody, and he knew nobody would talk to him. He'd be the outcast. He always has been.

He wouldn't pack or buy lunch. He'd sit alone in the cafeteria and watch everyone eat and talk to their friends.

He'd get beaten every day by a group of jocks who, just like everyone else, hated him. They would spit cruel words at him as they leave bruises and cuts on the surface of his body, and nobody, not even the teachers, would do anything to stop them.

He'd come home with too many projects, because the teachers hated him, too. He'd be covered in bruises, maybe a black eye, a busted lip, or a limp to accompany them. His parents would notice the blood on his shirt or the limp in his step, but his father would only beat him further, and his mother would make him do the things she was supposed to do while she was at "work".

Niall rolled over, anxious. He sighed against the heavy feeling in his chest and closed his eyes softly, only to be met with the darkness he wanted to get rid of so badly.