That Magical Summer -Niall Horan Fan fiction (N O T M I N E)

Chapter 35 ♡

ATTENTION- Please listen to Summer Love by One Direction while reading this chapter bc the girl who wrote this said so and bc ily k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can’t believe you’re packin your bags, tryin’ so hard not to cry.”

            You turned on your heels to see Niall propped up against the doorway. His left foot was crossed over his right, and he was holding a heavy, brass guitar. You hastily folded your last pair of shorts, tucking them neatly into the bottom of your suitcase before looking back to Niall. You listened to his words, being sung throughout the room. The words were so true, and full of meaning. You did want to cry. You wanted more than anything to cry tears of sorrow tears of yearning.

“Had the best time, and now it’s the worst time. But we have to say goodbye.”

            He walked over to your bedside, strumming his guitar to his perfect words. By his foot was something, it was a bag. A big, reusable bag that was full to the top. He ominously pulled something out from the top, placing it into your suitcase. It was a book. Three Magic Words was the title. It was the book that you had never gotten to finish, because of him. Because you met him, you didn’t really have time for anything else. He must’ve seen you reading it that day. You smiled graciously to him, as his spontaneous voice continued.

“Don’t promise that you’re gonna write. Though, promise that you’ll call.”

            His guitar came to a melodic pause as he bent down, deep into his bag. Pulling out with his fingers was a shirt. It was your white v-neck. It was the shirt you had worn the day you got in the paint fight. Nasty smears of the puke orange still splattered the shirt. You had left it on your deck to dry, and just forgotten about it.

“Just promise you won’t forget we had it all.”

You took a moment to appreciate his voice. His celestial voice that could be achieved by no other person in this world. It was perfect, and so was he. You never knew he played the guitar, but it matched perfectly with his voice. This song. He then placed a purple sweatshirt neatly into your suitcase. It was his purple sweatshirt. That one that you had worn to the supermarket with him. It was then that a little girl took the first picture of the two of you as a couple.

“Cause you were mine for the summer…”

            His voice rang through your head, the hot tears seeking freedom. You held your breath as his shaky hand brought another item out of the bag. This time it was a small piece of paper. It was a white slip that held two words on it: Hannah Montana. You laughed softly. It was from the bonfire, charades.

“…Now we know it’s nearly over.”

            You couldn’t hide the fated tears any longer. They ran from your eyes quickly and rapidly. Fast enough that you couldn’t stop them. You saw through your blurry eyes Niall continuing his reminiscing song with two movies. Paranormal Activity and Finding Nemo. The two movies that you refuse to ever watch again, without him.

“Feels like snow in September, but I always will remember…”

            It was a napkin. It was the napkin. It was the napkin from your first, official date. You skimmed your finger over it’s intricate, white detailing. The penmanship was still visible as it read: “That man had a uni-brow!” You remembered how Niall had scribbled a messy stick figure just to the write of that. You laughed through the tears.

“You were my summer love.”

You looked up at him just as the words came out of his mouth. You were frozen in your stance, not be able to move or breathe. Just able to cry. You wanted to tell him that he was your summer love too, but you didn’t want to interrupt him. Next were two flimsy pieces of paper. The first was a picture. It was a picture of you and Niall hand in hand. You were shielding yourself from the papprazzi, and so was he. It was titled: “Niall’s Secret Affair?”. The second was an article. The bold, screaming headline reading: “One Direction’s Hottie: Turned Naughty?”. You shook your head angry at everything, trying to wipe the tears away. You were angry they had gotten that picture of you two, you were angry that he had to leave.