Niall hadn’t ever handled the big crowds very well, especially when they were largely uncontrolled and pressed into every open space, leaving barely any room to even breath. And it was even worse when you were there because not only was he freaked out for himself, he was freak out for you as well. He felt like he had to be responsible and protect you, even though the idea was completely silly. That’s what body guards were for and, while you appreciated his concern, you knew because of his fame that he was the last person who’d really be able to protect you should things get out of hand. Usually they didn’t, so it wasn’t really a problem, but one time the fans had been extremely excited and loud and things had gotten out of hand, and it had set him off like a firecracker. He wasn’t one to get angry, but when he did, he almost couldn’t control himself—yells and curses and limbs flailing—anger and fear combining. And, more out of survival than anything else, you’d grabbed his arm and pressed him forward through the people, disregarding the chaos that was ensuing around you and calmly, but forcefully talked him through the next few minutes. The body guards were long behind, working to keep both you and the fans safe, so you’d sort of taken over, pushing him underneath your arm and making into the hotel as quickly as you could. And because of that, the fans had been all over you in their efforts to reach Niall—your hair being pulled and your shoulders being shoved and all the usual things that the big, burly body guards could either handle or avoid seeing as they were, well, big and burly. But, despite your petite frame, you’d managed to usher him inside the safety of the hotel all in one piece. And boy, was he livid. You’d tried to console him, but he’d walked from your touch, his fingers running through his hair has he tried to get a hold of his raging emotions. Things shouldn’t have been that way—you shouldn’t have had to protect him or man-handle the fans or get hurt or, oh, it just made him so angry he almost couldn’t see straight.
So while you’d allowed him a minute to control himself, you’d sunk onto one of the benches in the hallway, finally realizing everything that had just happened. You were a little bit in shock and the tears just sort of came. Not frantic or fearful, really, it was just like all of your emotions had left your heart and were leaking out of your eyes. Your face was long and rather straight, but the streams down your cheeks told Niall an entirely different story when he turned around in response to a nonchalant sniffle. Honestly you weren’t even sure what you felt, it was just sort of this mix between concern, shock, fear, physical pain, and just.. you were just upset and rattled, but so much so it wasn’t really registering on your face except for your tears. And that actually concerned Niall more than any hysterical crying or sobbing or yelling could have, so he’d hurriedly slid down on the floor in front of you and gripped your knees with his hands, checking, fidgeting, pressing to know if you were okay and what was going on and if he could do anything. But when he realized all you could do at that point was shake your head and cry, he’d sat down beside you and pulled you as close as he could, his arm firmly holding you and his hand frantically rubbing up and down your arm. (“It’s okay, it’s okay—I’m so sorry, it’s okay, it’s gonna be fine. You did great, babe, you did so great.”) And you’d both sat that way for a long, long time because yeah, eventually you were fine and the bruises healed and his anger subsided, but in that moment you just needed it, needed each other. And as awful as it had been, it had reminded you that no matter what happened, as long as you clung to each other and never let go, you’d be just fine.
