Tomlinson was the best thing to happen to me (Watty's '13)

Pushing On

I don't like Niall that way. I don't. There's nothing going on between us. I don't know what the boys are on about, but it's annoying me a little. More than a little. Sometimes I just want to hide away in a hole and then re-emerge after they've forgotten about bugging me. That would be good. It's all quieter. Louis' ignoring me or avoiding me, I can't tell the difference. It seems that every time I try to talk to him, he's disappeared on me, or he's busy. Or playing video games. Niall's in a seemingly good mood, but just two nights ago I heard anger in his voice as he seemingly argued with Liam. They don't seem to usually fight, I've noticed. But in our regular interactions there doesn't seem to be anything unusual about the behaviour between Niall and Liam. Maybe I'm wrong and they're engaged in an internal feud that I'm oblivious to.

I'm not even going to talk to any of them about inner turmoils, much less feuding with Tommo, because I don’t know how they would react and I don't want to be at their mercy, under their influence. At any other time I would happily confide in them but they're driven by a goal they wish to reach in this instance, they'll be persuasive. Even Liam in his bid to achieve his goal. Probably not in other circumstances but certainly, it seems, when he's bent on driving two people together.

I don't know what problem Louis has with me at the moment. Why can't he leave me alone when it comes to personal choices, and why he doesn't seem to understand my side of the story. He doesn't seem to be thinking about what I might be thinking, he's only concerned about what other people might think of me. But I don't care. And I don't need to, because ever since leaving Doncaster, I've been on the philosophy that the various aspects of a person corresponds to what the wear. Street kids wear clothes different from rich kids, who wear different things from kids in an average income family. And then the preppy kids wear different things from the sport kids, different from kids who like skateboarding and hip-hop. And if they're rough kids like me, well just let them be. You let young girls wear stupid frilly skirts, you let other kids do what they want with their clothes. Why can't you let me do what I want with my clothes as well? We aren't actual siblings. And I'm not your blood brother. I'm not even male to start with and we haven't done anything in the likes of the fabled drop of blood in the rice wine. I think, we're drifting apart. I think we are, Tommo and I. Maybe one of the reasons is this effort he's making to have a sort of control over me. He's trying to set me on what he feels to be the right track, what is considered the norm by others. But I don't care about what others think. Alright, maybe I do a little, but it's not enough to make me change from what I've always been. He'll have the argument that boys don't like girls like me, I'll have the argument that I really don't care at the moment. When I'm ready for a relationship, I'll change. Maybe I'll never be. Maybe I'll be alone forever. But I think, as long as I have people to call friends, people to lean on in hard times, I'm satisfied. That's all I really am looking for at the moment, at this point in my life. It's all I'm concerning myself with in this aspect right now. Let the boys work on their career. Whatever I end up doing, whether it's being part of their tour group or just staying at a job in England or elsewhere, I can save for after this tour to sort out. I can't just stay on tour with them for the rest of their careers and then not know what to do after it all ends. Of course, I could be part of other people's tour parties and stuff like that, I'd be alright for bodyguard, I think. I don't know about that, maybe they wouldn't let me pass because I'm really not that tall and an Asian girl to top it off, but I'm physically stronger than most expect and I like to think I'm alright. Am I really alright for the job by standards considered safe for the rich and famous? I don't know.

And then there's Harry. My buddy Harry, who's trying to not annoy me with his input on the whole matter. Maybe he'll be the person I go to just to get away from it all. He's cutting back on the flirting with me and now we get along so much better. See? Only takes a little change from one person and another to accept them and it all fits together. We have some fun being crazy and stupid at the same time and get along quite alright. He has some stupid stories, but he still manages to get a laugh out of me, not matter how stupid I might think it is.

Niall's the source of the issue but when we're alone, Niall and I, he's alright. He's silly, and sometimes drifts into Nialler-land, but we're the same sort of person if you take away my fortress. It's true, or so I'd like to think. Sometimes he even makes me do his accent. Never gives me a reason for it, just a simple request. And I oblige, because I can. And then when the boys hear my change in accent, they'll copy. I guess Niall just likes it then. By far the best Irish accent out of the others I think goes to Harry, probably, who's learning Irish off Niall. Do I want to learn Irish? Yes. Is it going to be useful at a later date? Only if I go to Ireland, and even then they speak perfectly fluent English, if Niall is anything to go by. And anyway, I took one glance at the script and decided it looked like a culmination of Spanish, Italian and Welsh. The only Spanish I know has something to do with llamas, all the Italian I find is on sheet music and not entirely useful, and Welsh… never mind Welsh, I don't understand it at all. Too many consonants in one word, too many letters in one word. Impossible to pronounce because I tried to for an Elective History assignment on Celtic mythology and it was ridiculous. I couldn't get the sounds the same as that which I found on the internet. So I gave up on the voice-over and music altogether and resorted to a slide show with captions. I don't plan on learning Irish second-hand from Harry either because he tends to mumble and anyway, who knows what he's going to teach me?