International Relations [Niall Horan Fanfic]

..::Chapter 32::..

Leaning forward on the counter, with my coffee warming my hands, I waited for structured sentences to come to mind. I knew what words I wanted to say; words were easy. The hard part was having them make sense together. Not knowing where to start was an understatement.

There was also another issue looming above our heads that Niall wasn't even aware of yet: Louis knew our secret, I think. I hadn't really had the chance to tell him about it and discuss it thoroughly. To be honest, I hadn't even given it much thought myself because of everything else going on.

It wasn't that I was hesitant on telling him about my mother, if anything, Niall was now only the second person I'd ever really wanted to have this conversation with, Sam being the first. My own father has even tried to get this out of me but to no avail. Niall must have sensed my inability to establish a starting point because he eventually said, "Start with the phone call to your dad last night."

I nodded. Even with a starting point, the words were difficult to find.

"It wasn't my first one." I whispered down to my mug, "The panic attack, I mean."

"I figured that much..." Niall sighed, "I heard you tell your father it was starting again?"

I looked up shocked. Niall didn't strike me as an eavesdropper. He seemed to catch the reason behind my reaction.

"No! Well... yea." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I was just so worried about yeh. M'sorry. I swear I left right after you said dat because I felt too guilty listenin' in."

I nodded again, exhaling loudly to begin talking again.

"The first time was when my mother died." I watched as the tips of my fingers trace around the mug and up and down the handle. "They told my dad they were just me reacting to her death. I remember being told this and being angry about it. Because I didn't think I cared as much as they were saying I did. That's fucked up, I know... and the idea of medication for me was this stuff they would give my mom and obviously didn't help so I thought, 'Why would it work for me?'. Even though I was only like 6, I knew I didn't want to end up like her so I refused to take anything and my dad didn't pill push me."

I looked up at Niall and to his furrowed brow. He was listening intently like I knew he would. I took a sip of my coffee and groaned at the taste. I really did hate the stuff. His silence was him wanting me to continue.

"My dad was always amazing with us but I knew her death took it's toll on him more than us. I knew I needed to fill in the gaps with the twins, who had just turned one when she died and things got a little better. We were used to my mother not really being around even when she was alive, so our routine slowly went back to the way it was, just with a darkened filter. It wasn't until things seemed alright that the panic attacks started again. The doctor said maybe it was because I wasn't 'dealing with my mother's death'. He explained that I had conditioned my mind to basically act like a bottle of some carbonated drink. Everyday, I was 'shaking the bottle' and after a while my brain couldn't handle the pressure and would explode, resulting in the attacks."

My gaze was off in space, on nothing in particular. I felt movement in my right hand and realized Niall had reached across the kitchen island to hold it. My hand turned up and welcomed the gesture.

"Again, I refused medication and they eventually stopped as well after a couple of months." I sighed.

I was lost in my thoughts. So many memories and flashbacks were flooding the inside of my eyelids as I held my eyes tightly shut. One being the time we went grocery shopping and I was holding the bags while my dad held the twins. The twins had begun to fuss and my grip on the multiple bags was slipping due to my small limbs and the immense weight. The entire scene began to overwhelm me and I knew it was about to happen. I ended up dropping food everywhere: breaking the eggs, squishing the bread, and watching the apples roll through the parking lot. I tried so hard to control myself because I hated putting my dad in these types of situations.