Taking Chances (Niall Horan Punk Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Fourteen: "Whatever"

~Niall~

"You definitely pack lighter than all the girls I've known," I mumbled, staring at the very small pile of clothes and necessities she'd packed in the bag she brought. She chuckled, smiling slightly.

"Well I'm not like those girls. Hell, I'm not like average girls. I don't need all the crap they bring with them - too much baggage for me." She folded a pair of jeans and paused, her eyes fixed on the bed sheets in front of her as if she was afraid to look up at me.

"What do you mean, 'all the girls'?"

I felt a strong tinge of awkwardness rush through me as I took in her question, which she noticed.

"Um-" I fumbled for words, but none came. Eventually she realized that.

She shook her head and went back to folding her clothes. "I don't even know why I asked. The answer should be etched in my brain by now..."

Her words struck a small piece of anger inside of me. Of course, my reputation was a bad one. Hell, I've never known myself to regret ever being with a girl for a night. I've never felt any type of regret or grief, just pleasure. Simply because I've never had someone to listen to that complains. My mates never found a problem, and I didn't think a girl like Brielle did either. Especially if she hates me so much. So why, again, did I care if she knew about what I do? And how I live my life? What did it matter to me?

I ignored the small part of me that obviously said I cared no matter the reason, and I forced myself to keep that shut out. But even if I was angry, I didn't want to appear rude - she'd be my roommate for the next two weeks, and no one wants to hate the person you live with.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, turning around to look at me with pleading eyes. I could see she regretted ever saying it, but the truth was always hard for people to admit. Even people as innocent and kind as Brielle.

"Whatever," I grumbled, ignoring her still desperate eyes as I turned and left the room. If she was truly sorry, she wouldn't have said it in the first place. She would've known it was something unnerving to say.

She wasn't done packing for quite awhile, though I didn't check on her. I figured if she wanted my help, she'd ask for it. But at the same time, I knew for a fact she would've been done within the first half hour of packing her things away. What was taking so long?

I stood up from the couch and made my way into my bedroom, finding her on the edge of the bed with the frame held firmly in her hands. The pained, confused, and blissful look on her face made me wonder just how long she'd been looking at the photo of her parents.

I watched as she tried to make sense of the photo, as if it wasn't even in her hands, the metal frame cold against her slightly paled skin. Her round, beautiful green eyes glistened with tears, each holding an immense weight of sorrow. Why did bad things happen to people like her? Why did she have to be living this life right now?

I hated the feeling of knowing she was in danger, but I was too damn stubborn to let that tell me what I was doing anymore.

"For the longest time I've wondered whether I was supposed to die the day they did," she whispered, those tears still held up in her eyes. I leaned against the door frame, afraid to come any closer and break the piercing silence.

"I've burnt myself to the ground regretting ever being a stupidly scared little girl when he took me," she continued, rage and complete grief clearly echoing in her voice. "Maybe if I'd gone with him, he wouldn't have been arrested and he wouldn't feel angry toward my parents. He wouldn't have gone to that cliff, and they'd still be alive."

I shook my head, even if she couldn't see. "Brielle, your parents would have still called the police when he took you."

"Not if I went with him willingly," she refused. "If I just told them I wanted to go, they would have understood."