Forgotten

Chapter 1

  "One Direction's Take Me Home tour is having a pit stop in the Big Apple in two weeks! After a month in NYC, the boys "Take Me Home" tour will end in Australia! Don't get too excited ladies, the boys aren't in the mood for screaming fans." The news lady said the same old shit. One Direction here and One Direction there. It never ended! I saw him on TV alot. Mostly it was usual drama about being seen with a girl or getting a tattoo, even though he is inkless. He had been to The Big Apple many times, for concerts, vacations and parties...but never to visit his little sister.
        "Hey Bea, I think the milk has gone sour." Said my roomate, Gabby. She worked with me at Banson. She had been my friend since I moved to New York and started school at Avenues private school.
        "Ew. One Direction's coming to New York again. Bet you he still doesn't know who I am."
        "Did you ever try calling him or emailing? Oh! How about writing a letter! Old fashioned 'snail mail' is always the best!" She poured out the chunky milk and hopped on the couch.
        "I did but each time it said it had either been sent back or it had a stamp saying 'sorry this address does not exist' i don't really think he cares." I said. More pictures showed up on the television screen.
        "He doesn't even look the same. quiffed blonde hair, skinny legs, wearing no clothes in music videos. It's like he's a completly different person, Gabbs." I rummaged through the side table for some leftover stationary i had. 
        "Write a letter. Maybe the address you write will be correct." Gabby said. I pulled out a pen from my purse and began writing.

Niall,

If past experiences repeat themselves then this letter is pointless. But nevertheless it needs to exist. In all honesty I hope you are doing well. God knows I'm not. There are so many emotions constantly flooding through my brain It's hard to keep up. I can't say I don't think about you, because I do. I know we weren't close as kids. I barely saw you if I wasn't holed up in my room and you weren't out with your mates. It seems perfectly reasonable that my existance would disappear from your long term memory. If I were you, I would forget too. Sometimes I wish I forgot about you a while ago. It certainly would have made things a hell of a lot easier on my end. 

Love your baby sister,
Beatrice Alexandria Horan
59 5th Avenue, Greenwich Village, New York City, NY. (just in case you wanted to see me)

        "There, uh, all set. Now what's the address. Look it up on your laptop." I slid the letter into the envelope and wrote the address she called out to me. The last thing was to stamp it.
        "It seems kind of sketchy that I just found their address on the website." She laughed. She did have a point. Why would the band's management allow the office address to be put on the website? It did seem odd, but what the hell. I scurried over to the door and slipped the letter down the mail shoot. It was the one convienent thing about this apartment building.
        "What if it's wrong? What if he responds? What if he thinks I'm a fan? God knows there are plenty of 10 year olds calling themselves the 'future mrs. horan' or some shit." I practically gagged. I feel like those 10 year olds most likely knew more about him at this point anyway. Tragic.