Midnight Memories (Niall Horan)

Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Sam is 7, Niall is 9

Memory #1

It was nearing midnight and yet the entire Reid family was still up and about. Mr. Bryan Reid knew that to be the best host of a New Year's Eve party, you had to make sure you were lively until the New Year. So there he was, socializing and mingling with a glass of gin in his hand, unaware that his only daughter, seven year-old Samantha was out at the patio, dipping her finger in the fountain. With a sigh, she wiped her finger on her pastel dress and sluggishly made her way back to the house.

Samantha or Sam, as how she liked to be called, didn't like the high-class life. She didn't like white bows on her hair. She didn't like frilly dresses. She didn't like her weekends bombarded with lessons: horseback, painting, piano, ballet. Often at school, she would watch this boy, Niall Horan in his baggy shirt and ill-fitting football shorts, and wonder what it must be like to be him, to be so carefree and happy-go-lucky.

"Samantha," her father beamed with pride the second she stood at the doorway, taking her hand to lead her to the center of the living room where everyone had seemed to create a circle around. "My Samantha knows a lot of piano pieces even though her lessons started just a few months ago, but tonight, ladies and gentlemen, she's prepared for us a little something of her own." 

With that said, Bryan helped the girl up the seat, opened the piano for her and took a step back.

Sam sat there, her hands unmoving on the keys. Sure, she's played piano for an audience even thrice as big as this one, but right now, she didn't feel like being showed off. She didn't feel like being the trophy daughter and was just about to step off the seat when a blonde boy, who Sam immediately recognized as that Horan kid, emerged from the crowd. He ran toward her, sat down and banged the keys frantically. The crowd erupted in murmurs, but not one of them had the courage to approach the boy and carry him off.

"What are you doing?!" Sam asked, her hands coving her ears.

"Making music," he answered.

She clicked her tongue. "That's not music."

Niall stopped playing and raised his hands in shoulder level, jerking his head toward the piano. "Then show me what is."

And show him she did.

After briefly shooting Niall a cold look, she placed her hands on the keys once more and a few seconds later, the room was filled with the sound of an original piece, melancholic but beautiful. And when she had ended, she set her hands to her sides with a smug smile and glanced at Niall, who, to her surprise and wonder, wore the same expression.

"It was me who played well." Sam said, pointing to herself.

"Yeah, but it was me who got you to play."

And that was how their first conversation went.

Memory #2

Every year, the students of Winstone Prep gathered at the field and waited until midnight for their annual stargazing. And every year, Sam wasn't allowed to go. Her parents, especially her mother, never trusted the school in taking care of their daughter that late in the evening. But due to her unceasing pleas day and night, Bryan and Mollie Reid finally gave in. 

And so, with a bright smile, Sam eagerly waited for midnight, occasionally checking the silver wristwatch, her great grandmother's heirloom, and looking around to watch all the other kids. Around her, they groggily rubbed their eyes and yawned; some whining about wanting to go home. Others asking their teachers nonstop, "How much longer?"