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

Chapter 37 ♡

September 8. It’s been exactly a week since you’ve left the house, left Niall. Later that day you had finished up your packing and went straight for home. Even though his Uncle Pat gave you permission to stay a few more weeks, you couldn’t. You knew that if you stayed for just a few more days or even hours, you would breakdown. Because that is the place where you had first met, first fallen in love with him.

            You left your feet hanging off the end of your bed, as you leaned back against the headboard. A week has never felt so long. You stared up at the blank ceiling above you. You haven’t been able to focus for the past seven days. Your mind’s been too clouded with recollections of that summer. The summer that’s only been out from under your grasp for a week. Ding dong! You heard the sudden stinging of the doorbell. Your eyes shot wide, as you looked out your bedroom window, to the door of your flat. It couldn’t be…could it?

            Getting up on your socked feet, you made your way to the door, your comforting blanket still wrapped gently around your small figure. You thought about looking through the miniscule door-hole to see who it was, but you quickly ripped the door open instead. Standing before you was a person with a huge beam on their face.

Ellie.

            You’re not gonna lie, your heart dropped. For a second you thought it might have been Niall. That it might’ve been him running back to you, somehow finding your address, and he had come back to proclaim his never-ending love for you and how he wanted to stay with you for the rest of the life, no matter what. But that only happens in those magical fairytales.

“Y/N. Go put some clothes,” she friskily ordered, “We’re going out.”

“Wh—where?” you shrugged the blanket farther up on your shoulders as she made her way into your small flat.

“Somewhere,” she said plunking herself thin body down on your couch, “Anywhere.”

“Ellie,” you said walking over to her, “I’ve told you millions of times that I don’t want to go anywhere right now.”

“According to Glamour Gal magazine the best way to get over a breakup is to surround yourself with your closest friends and family, make sure to shower, and listen to lots and lots of Adele.”

“I’ve done one of those things,” you said crossing your arms.

“Adele?” she knew you way too well, “C’mon Y/N. Please? We need to get you out of the house.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m some dying grandma that needs to be pushed around in a wheelchair twice a day!”

“You sure smell like one,” she played down. You gasped, but you knew she was only telling the truth. You grabbed a hold of your shirt collar. It reeked, bad. But not because you haven’t showered in awhile, it’s because it was the shirt Niall had made sure to pack for you. It was your white v-neck that was speckled with hefty paint marks. You’ve worn it everyday since then, just remembering how it came along.

“Fine I’ll shower,” you mumbled, “But I’m not going out.” You picked yourself up, walking slowly to your bathroom. You took a nice, quick shower. Barely rubbing yourself with a loofah and body scrub, you stepped out dripping wet. It did feel good. Pretty refreshing. You slipped back into your painted shirt and red pajama pants. You shook out your hair with a towel not even bothering to brush it out. You walked back out to Ellie who had the tv turned on and a bottle of root beer in her hand. She was always one to really take advantage of that “make yourself at home” saying.

“You’re not wearing that are you?” she asked muting the newest episode of Keeping of With the Kardashians.

“What?”

“You’re not wearing that when we go out to the bar are you?”

“The bar?” you asked cocking a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Let’s get going. You don’t have to go there meet guys or anything. That’s for me to do. Just take a shot or two. I promise it’ll make you feel better,” she stood up dragging you to your own room, “And if you’re still bored after the first hour then we’ll go okay?” You groaned. At this point you didn’t really have a choice. She was going to make you go one way or another that’s for sure.

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            You slunk ponderously over the wooden bar. You watched with all boredom as the bartender threw around a glass bottle, doing unimpressive tricks and turns. Ellie was nowhere near your side, as she hung over some teenage hunk who had walked in with a leather jacket and a ripped out motorcycle helmet. You looked to the wall clock that’s been ticking nonstop. Ten more minutes and Ellie will let you go home. You grumbled as you saw the bartender making his way closer to you.

“What’s such a pretty lady doing at a bar all alone?” he asked tipping you a shot.

“Oh—I don’t want,” you mumbled shaking a hand.

“Breakup?” he asked pulling away with a hint of a grin.

“Is it that obvious?” you groaned looking up at him. Your eyes interlocked with his, momentarily blinding yourself with their beauty. They were a light turquoise that glinted green. They were mystical. His hair was a dirty, chestnut brown that twisted into a small spike at the top. He was wearing a tight blue flannel, and fitting jeans. His features were soft and light, not one quality out of place. You smiled, for probably the first time in awhile.

“Kind of,” he said honestly pushing the shot glass towards you, “C’mon. On the house.” You smiled again, knocking back the alcohol into your system. You shook your head in non-readiness. You saw him chuckling.

“Hit me again—“ you spluttered smacking the small glass towards him in a daze.

“Rider,” he finished clearing his throat.

“Hit me again Rider,” he obeyed immediately abruptly stopping the flow of liquid and pushing it once again towards you. You brought the glass up to your lips, to Rider’s very amusement, as you stopped when you heard the words bubbling from the open tv.

“Now please welcome One Direction!”