Captain Ireland (Niall Horan Fanfic) slow uploads

Chapter 9

Niall's POV

I watched her sleep like a weirdo. Right after I finished cleaning and wrapping up her hand, she fell asleep with her feet on my lap. She's quite comfortable with me considering everything that happened in the past twenty four hours. 

I don't know what's going to happen anymore. I mean, she ain't going to stay at my place for long for sure. She'll probably will start living with Eleanor until she arranges the shit with Brad. 

I looked at the clothes she was wearing. She was wearing the biggest pants ever that probably belonged to myself and she was wearing a tanktop. It's safe to say that she looked hot, but I won't say that. Everyone has left to their own places, cause it was eleven clock and everyone wanted to get a proper sleep after the hard night that we all had.

The telly was going on with some shit that I wasn't even watching. I'm only watching her sleep, sometimes shifting a bit, and I swear she winced when she did so.

I'm really tormenting  myself this way. Niall she can never be yours. The words rang through my head on repeat making me shake my head to try and ignore the voice. Cause I'm just the underdog and I never get the girl. 

I stared at her for a couple more minutes, until I shaked my idiotic presence away and decided to spend my night in my comfortable bed. I stalked off to my room and stripped off to my boxers and snuggled up in bed, wishing I was holding her-

Niall shut up.

My subconcious is mean.

London's POV

I woke up in the middle of the night because of a nightmare. I was soaked in tears and sweat that made me cringe. I always like to be clean but these past few days I've just been horrible. 

I seriously need to cut right now.

Wait, what?

I thought I was over that shit. Obviously not. But this is truly horrible. My depression is just getting worse and worse.

But this is not good. I've just been through years and years of therapy and all that shit and I'm going back to it. It's like something always pushes me down under again. Therapy don't help. Doctors don't help. The just make me feel more mental than I already am.

I got up in pain from the couch and walked over to the hall, trying to find the bathroom. I have to do something about this feeling. The feeling that makes me want to jump off a bridge and end this living hell.

I finally found the bathroom after loads of wincing and crying softly and I walked in, switching the light on and softly closed the door. I looked in the mirror at my vision and almost screamed at my appearence. I dropped to the ground and hugged my knees together trying not to relapse and do something stupid.

I continued sobbing and crying, desperatly trying to rid my mind of the thoughts that haunted me.

*Flashback*

I looked down at the height beneath me. I'm scared. I have to sides in my mind. The small sane part that's saying that I should live and give life another chance. I've been giving life too many chances and I'm tired of it now.

And then there's the big part, saying that I should get this over with and just die. Like I have fantasised for over the past months.

'Die. Die. You don't need to live. Nobody wants you or needs you.' It said, the bad part.

'No. You have a reason. Give life another chance.'

'You have given life to many chances. Go. Jump. Die. Nobody wants you.'