Inked Armor (Punk Niall)

Chapter 23

In a mission to escape the “rainy, cold, and all around stubborn” Wolverhampton weather my mother made plans to pack our knapsacks and drive down to the sunny beaches of Brighton when I was nine.

It was only late May when we made the trip so the weather back home wasn’t all that bad, but I was not about to complain about a vacation so I shut my mouth and dug around for my favorite blue zebra-patterned sunglasses. I had never really been out of Wolverhampton so Brighton might as well be Disney World or any tropical place in America.

The hotel was great and the food was even better, but the best thing, the most memorable aspect of my childhood trip, was the beach.

We were there for a week and the beach became a daily thing (except for the third day when it rained and we went out for ice cream instead, which was a nice alternative). Cale was 17 at the time and tried to act like a family vacation was much too childish for him, saying that he should be at wrestling conditioning and not in bloody Brighton. But I knew that he secretly adored the salty air and the ocean and the sandcastles I made him help me build.

The water was usually cool and refreshing, rocks and seaweed tickling my feet when I’d walk out in the shallow end to find souvenirs and seashells. When my parents would allow me to go deeper in the waves with Cale as a chaperone, I’d tread water until a huge wave could be seen making its way down to shore. Then, holding my breath I’d let the wave catch me in the currents and spin me in every possible direction until I landed back onto the wet sand, laughing and buzzing with excitement as the foamy ocean water drained back into the never-ending sea.

The sand wasn’t all that sandy at parts, an abundance of rocks would sometimes join up at the shore, a little displeasing to bare feet. I usually tried to find a space with only soft sand that I could dig my toes in and lay down flat on my back, letting the sun shine down on my skin.

The sun was always sort of an open den of warmth, its rays enveloping my skin at just the right temperature so I wasn’t too hot. I’d lay for what felt like hours under the beaming sunshine and soak up all its energy as I turned the sand over in my fingertips, sending myself into a euphoric state that could only be compared to a lovely dream.

It was at these moments that I desperately wish to return to, turn back time and relive just one more day young and free under that warm perfect sun. Nothing could ever be compared to how content I was, nothing could make me feel that way ever again.

Nothing until this very moment.

The warm stream of shining light seeped through the window and bathed my skin in tranquility, after a few seconds I had to rethink where exactly I was and how I got here until a flashback of the previous night blackened my mind.

As soon as I reached full consciousness I could feel strong safe arms enveloped around my body, legs entangled with my own and lips lazily pressed to my shoulder. Niall’s breath hit my neck each time he exhaled, the cold metal of his snakebite contrasting with the hotness of his mouth.

I took in the situation and my surroundings, the close proximity of our bodies, sunlight bathing us in the best way possible, and pictured myself back on the beach laying in the sand. Niall’s soft yet muscular torso against my back and the fluffy duvet wrapping us together like the currents of the ocean.

I couldn’t really describe how exactly perfect it was, or the amount of excitement I exuded just knowing that Niall was back and closer than ever, but I could compare it to those days in Brighton. Truth is, Niall was light and dark all at once. The sun and the moon.

He was the sun in the way his rosy cheeks lit up with each laugh, and the way his arms kept me warm. Each day, brightening up my world without words or communication other than a smile, and then I was blind to everything else except bright blue eyes that could end wars.

He was the moon in the way his tattoos glided across his skin in endless stories of triumph and loss, and the way he would bit his lip, just next to his snakebite, in lust. How he would grip my waist with large calloused hands and no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t say no.

Niall was the sunshine bathing my skin, but the moonlight hiding all my demons.

And instead of falling back asleep in my lover’s arms watching his chest rise and fall as muscles contracted, I admired how the sunlight streaming in hit his cheeks just right and revealed the blonde parts of his hair, I listened to his mumbling and breathing.

Time seemed to tick by without a care, and I hadn’t realized how long I’d stared at Niall until he started to stir and bury his head out of the pillow, lifting it before blinking groggily. Once he saw me fully awake and beside him, a giddy smile crossed his lips.

“Mornin’” he said, placing a light kiss to my lips without hesitation. I grinned like a chessy cat at his gravelly morning voice, that paired with perfectly messy bedhead and I was gone.

“Good morning.” I said. Then we didn’t say anything for a long time, just laid together and kissed and intertwined our fingers under the sheets even though there was nothing to hide. I had more questions to ask than I could keep up with, and I was still upset about Cale, but at the moment nothing mattered much at all.

Just knowing that I had Niall, and that he would sacrifice anything for me put my racing mind at ease. Watching his eyes swirl around in their ocean of blues and greens and everything in between was my own method of meditation and distraction.

“Hadley?” Niall finally asked. I looked up at him, realizing just how much I missed those blue eyes of his.

Niall cracked a smile and brushed a curl out of my face. “You have pretty eyes.” His low Irish accent remarked, and my mind rushed back to the autumn days of Mr. Bolden’s class in the auditorium. The first time we met. The first words he spoke to me (other than a greeting, but let’s pretend that didn’t happen).

“You going to run off again?” I grinned and mindlessly traced a digit down his chest, watching his cheeks become rosier. He let out a sort of huff/chuckle and bit his lip like he really wanted to say something, but couldn’t pass the words.

“Not unless you’re right behind me, babe.” Niall said, kissing the back of my hand. “Now, I reckon we should probably get the day going. I’ll make some eggs and bacon?” Niall’s face lit up at the thought of a meal, inner child branching out of his bad boy exterior.

I shook my head and laughed, pecking his lips as the sun continued to illuminate our intertwined bodies. “Niall Horan,” I said “I think I’ve fallen in like with you.”