How could I possibly forget you, Horan?
Hi! Well this is my first Fanfiction, so...yeah. XD ill try and update once a week, maybe even a couple times a week! Thanks, lovelies!
--
"Molly!" I heard my mother shout from down stairs. I did not want to get up, I rolled on my side, deciding to ignore my mothers calls.
"Molly! Get down here! Now!" She shouted even louder. I rolled on my back, looking at the ceiling. Taking my right hand to shield my face, I glanced out the window, immediately regretting it. She sun shone through my open blinds, my hand doing no good as a shield until I tilted it where it blocked the suns rays from my eyes. I dragged myself out of bed, my brown, curly hair trailing behind me. I ran a hand through my knotted hair, wait...the night before I had put my hair up, now it was down. Eh. I had a problem, tossing and turning in my sleep. I have always done that, kicking my parents when I slept with them, when I was eight they said I stopped, but now I'm eighteen, and I've woken up on the floor a few times.
"What, Mum?!" I called back, padding down the stairs. As I made my way around the corner, I walked down the hall, passing by old photos on the wall. I stopped to look at them for a moment, hoping whatever my mum wanted could wait a moment.
I smiled at the pictures, some nice family photos, baby pictures of me, and my younger brother, Alex. But there was one picture, that caught my eye, the one that did every morning as I walked down the hall. My best friend, Niall Horan and I, each holding a small kitten in our hands. We were about ten, we had just become friends. His gift to me was a kitten, along with his own. We decided to name them With similar. My kitten, who had sparkling blue orbs, and she was all grey, but her two back paws were white. Nialls kitten had sparkling blue orbs also, and all grey, but his two front paws were white. Niall named his kitten Gloves, and I named my kitten Socks. Makes perfect sense, right? My Mum interrupted my thoughts and yelled again,
"Molly! NOW!" I could tell she was mad about something. As I walked into the kitchen, my fourteen year old brother, shot me a 'ooh you've done it now.' Look, along with a smirk. He pulled himself out of the bar stool and began to take long strides into the living room. My Mum opened the fridge, pulling out a bag of grapes, she rinsed them and gestured me to sit. I did as I was told, or, gestured to and looked at the woman in front of me. "Did I do something wrong...?" I asked, popping one of the small fruits into my mouth. As my teeth pierced not the fruit, the liquid inside oozed slowly into my mouth, what my Mum was about to say, I didn't expect to hear.
