Life of a Styles | One Direction Fanfic (Slow Updates)

Chapter 3

'Why does this have to happen to me?' I say to myself. I heard another knock on the door. Instead of screaming at him to go away, I walked over to my speakers and blasted my music. I think it worked because he didn't knock again or at least I couldn't hear him. Time was flying by when I looked at the clock and realized that it was midnight already. I turned my music down, checked to make sure that my door was still locked, and climbed in bed.

*The Next Morning*

I woke up and forgot everything that had happened the previous night. That was until I got out of bed and noticed my mascara stained pillow and locked door. But reality hadn't truly hit me until I opened my door seeing Harry asleep on the floor outside my room. I guess he heard me becuase as soon as i did open the door he stood up and just hugged me. I started to cry again and he just held me close and didn't say a word. We were both silent as we walked downstairs. My guess was that the boys had fallen asleep on the couches because they were all still asleep. 

"I'm going to make your favorite for breakfast." Harry said as if he remembered what it was.

"Okay," is all I say in response.

I walk outside and lay on the trampoline like Harry and I used to when we were younger. While Harry was away that is where I used to go to calm myself down and relax. I hear the back door open and I immediately turn my head to see who it is, thankfully it is Niall. I had always got along with him really well. Harry thinks it is because we have the same personality. He climbed on the trampoline and layed down next to me. 

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Like shit," I respond.

"Everything is going to work out. I promise." He states

"A promise is a promise, at least that's what they say. Welcome to reality, they're broken everyday." I say back.

"What?" He asks in confusion. 

"For English class we had to right a poem thing about how we feel."

"Why do you feel that way?" he asks nervously.

"Harry promised that no matter what we would be the same, that I could call him to talk, that he would comfort me, that he would call me almost everyday. He promised." I say quite angrily.

"Shannon..." He says scaredly.

"Niall, he calls me once a month, a MONTH. Whenever I really need someone to talk to I called him like he told me to, yet everytime I called, I was sent to voicemail. He's not the same brother I used to know..."