Niall Horan Imagines

When You Cry

My mind was spinning. Why did she say that about me?

Yes, maybe I look down all the time. Maybe I like black more than every other color. Maybe I have depression.

That didn't ever give her the right to embarrass me in front of the entire room and my group of friends. Well, I thought they were my friends. My mind flashed back to all of them trying to hold in their laughs.

I slid my back down the door of the closet door, tears about to run down my hot cheeks. I felt pressure applied to the door and fear came into play.

"(Y/N)?" I heard him say.

Niall.

I stood up and let the door swing open, the fear being erased with relief. The door revealed a very concerned looking Niall. Without words, he wrapped his arms around me protectively, shutting the door behind us.

I sobbed once, but no tears flowed. I was dry crying, and it hurt.

It felt like there was a large ball in the middle of my throat, the threat of being choked hanging in the air. Niall let go of me, but it only became worse. I tried swallowing to make the pain go away, but it didn't. It was persistent and evil.

I stared into his eyes and sat down again, gently clawing at my neck. In my V-neck shirt I felt like the collar was too high.

"Do you need to cry?" he asked, sitting down next to me in a pretty large closet full of jackets and linens that I had just run to in a panic. He had been there, too. He already knew what I was going through.

I looked up at him and nodded, hoping the thick pain in my neck would subside. I felt the tears well up in my eyes before they finally spilled over, making a sob force itself out of my lips.

I immediately felt better, and Niall wrapped my in his arms, kissing my head and telling me everything would be okay.

And for once in my life, I actually believed him.