#9 - No One Ever Told You...
Niall: …you were important. It was just sort of bleak- not in an obvious way that you would complain about, but a very there lack of acknowledgement that just rubbed your edges raw bit by bit. By the time you met this blonde boy with falling star eyes and a laugh louder than any word you’d ever spoken, you were comfortable in your place within the shadows. It takes him a while to realize it, that you weren’t just joking every time you murmured “I don’t deserve that,” or wondered why anyone even bothered to take your picture. And it breaks his too big heart a little, because you don’t even realize how completely wrong you are. So he never stops after that, flaunts you about even more than usual when there’s cameras because he hopes maybe you’ll see that you aren’t some supporting role in his life story, you’re the whole damn show.
Louis: …they loved you. It was understandable, then, the skittish reaction he received when he first murmured those dangerous, lovely words. He meant them. He meant them so, unbelievably, much; that was very clear in his mind. But you had never even considered that your freckled cheeks and wispy hair could bring such potent emotion out of someone, and the wide-eyed stare on your face was clearly unsure. So he shows you, as well as he clumsily knows how. He calls you at nine o’clock sharp on those nights you have to walk home from class alone, just to be there in your ear, talking you through the scary blocks. And god knows he’ll go shopping with you a hundred times for that big event, glowing like fireworks every time you twirl that gown for him. He doesn’t stop saying it, either, those three words whispered into your shoulder in bed or written in refrigerator magnets when you wake up. Eventually, peacefully enough, you are saying it back and he feels almost wrong to be so lucky.
Liam: …you could. You were young and soft spoken and clumsy, and the world surely helped with beating those traits into your name. There were bad boyfriends who told you when you could and could not go out, and a father who said not to even bother applying to that foreign exchange program— you wouldn’t get in. Liam’s a little confused by it, how you flinch and back down at a hint of resistance, hiding warm underneath a tent of covers instead of going out for that job you’ve always wanted. He’s heard you rant yourself in circles late at night on his chest, mumble these shiny, pretty dreams you have. And he wants them so badly for you, wants to see your wish come true like his so impossibly did. Soon he’s picking up applications for you (“I was just in the neighborhood of that agency, and I thought I’d pop in…”) and giving you pep talks before interviews and telling you, constantly, that you can do it. “I mean, you could do anything, I think. You can get me up even at like five a.m. and can calm me down when the fans are too loud, so. You’re gonna do so many great things.”
Harry: …about all the little things. Each one hit you like a hurricane, washes of adoration so strong you would’ve thought it over dramatic if a friend had been the one relating the feeling. But it’s not, it’s you, and it’s Harry causing this huge feeling in your chest every other dumb moment that you fall a little more in love with him. The time when you broke your ankle but it was the first day of spring and all you wanted was some air, so somehow you ended up strolling about town for hours, perched nicely on his back. The first Christmas when he hid your presents behind the furnace because he really, really didn’t want you to find them, so that when opened there was soot in all your sweaters. The midnight grocery run that was more an overgrown boy cuddling into your side than a successful shopping trip. The awards show you spent texting each other bad knock knock jokes while sitting side by side and messily giggling. No one ever warned you how loud and full and important it was, getting to love someone like him.
Zayn: …they needed you. Sure, you had tampered with love and broken hearts and boys that followed you around like puppy dogs with the best intentions. But this was different, him standing there on your doorstep at god knows what hour with this look in his eye. Staring at you like he’s latching on to an oxygen tank with tired lungs. It’s scary really, how strong it pulls at his gut. Leading him through whatever bad blocks or into the nearest airport or through your bedroom door just so he can feel his pulse roar again. It’s a kind of an honor, you think as he’s saying it, to be needed by someone like him. You guess even the stars need their galaxies to hold them up, and you are so glad for that fact as he tugs you to his chest like a life raft. He feels you breathe and does a little more himself, and you’re thinking maybe this isn’t such a bad purpose in life, to keep his heart beating.
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Not mine xx
