Unhealthy Love

Epliogue

Niall pulls up into the too familiar parking lot and looks up at the large brick building, the words; “Delevan High School” are engraved above the main entrance. He thinks it hasn’t changed the slightest and he hasn’t even been back since he graduated 10 years ago.

Just looking up at the building, floods him with memories of his youth. He can almost see himself, Harry, Louis and Liam standing by the entrance, fresh-faced and young, laughing carefreely in the sun at some lame joke Louis told. He feels a pang of nostalgia and closes his eyes for a moment, just to chase the memories and feelings away. He flips open the halford mirror in the car and gives his face a nervous one-over. His hair is no longer blonde but a dark brown, more controlled, not as messy and his eyes are the same blue, maybe not as bright but it is hardly noticeable. He has lost the last bit of the babyfat in his cheek and his face is more defined and sharp. His jaw and chin are smooth; he’s tried to grow a beard for years but has never grown quite enough hair to make a decent one. He thinks he still looks young for his age, 28 years old, people has told him so, and he’s always been looking a couple years younger. But, he is a man now, thus he can’t allow himself to dwell in what used to be’s and worse, what could have been.

He doesn’t know how long he uses, just sitting there and staring up at the façade of his old high school until his phone starts ringing in the silence, making him jump startled. He pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. A smile tugs at his lips as a name flashes on the screen and he presses the answer button, bringing it to his ear.

“Hello, Harry,” he greets, settling back in his car a little.

“Niall,” his childhood best friend’s voice booms out from the other side, Niall can hear the chatter and laughter in the background; his insides squirm. “I thought you’d said you’re coming? Don’t tell me you got cold feet. everyone’s here and asking for you.”

Niall swallows around the lump in his throat and he fingers the buttons of his car, taking his sweet time to reply.

“Is he there?” he hears himself ask, and he swears, it hadn’t been what he wanted to ask but it had been in the back of his mind ever since he received the invitation a couple of months ago. Ever since he got that invitation to the 10-years re-union of his high school graduating class, it had been nagging his mind; would he be there? and if so, would it mean anything?

There’s a pause on the other end and for a moment, Niall thinks there isn’t anyone on the other side, but then Harry speaks.

“Niall,” it is said with somewhat a sigh, somewhat a sympathetic tone and Niall feels himself shrink. “The question is, does it matter? we are here, all your friends and seriously, you have to come now, Orlando and Nikki are together, can you believe that?”

Niall releases a soft laugh, he finds it funny, hearing Harry gossiping like that about their old school mates. “No way,” he says, just to amuse him. “I’m serious. You’re on your way, right?” Harry asks, and Niall huffs out a sigh. “I’m already here.”

“What? how long you’ve been here?” Harry asks surprised. half an hour, Niall replies mentally but he doesn’t want his friend to find out just how pathetic he is. “Just came,” he lies. “Well, that’s good! Do you want me to get out and get you?”

“No! no!” Niall is fast to say. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Good! I’ll see you then,” Harry says and hangs op. Niall does the same with a deep sigh as he drops his hand from his ear. He looks up at the building and swallows again.

*

Niall takes his sweet time walking through the halls of the school, taking the longest way to the hall where the re-union’s first part is held. The halls are dark, and Niall imagines himself, ten years younger, rushing to class, his hair disheveled and books hanging out of his bokbag. He smiles a little sadly. He finds his way to his old locker, and he stops momentarily, just using time running his finger along the freshly-painted metal. He wonders whose books it holds now, what that kid’s history is. he sighs again, leaning his forehead against the cool metal and another series of memories hits him; he and his friends standing against the locker, gossiping like girls about the people that pass them by and a single, vague image of a dark-haired boy kissing him against it flickers through his mind. Niall’s jaw clenches slightly, and he pushes himself away.