d.u.i » niall horan a.u (on hold atm)

f o u r

The corusicating rays of the morning sun burned into the flesh of my face as they peaked through the small slit in my contrastingly dark curtains, revealing the new day. My legs were wrapped between the covers, and my head lay deep into the feathered pillow that played as an accent of blue against my white sheets. 

I didn't want to get out of bed, actually. I didn't want to be dragged into the station again for the billionth time this summer, and be told to do the same boring shit that I've been told over, and over, and over again; "Sharpen those pencils, Alyssa." Or, "Hey Alyssa, could you please mop the hallway?" Or, "Alyssa baby, go to the vending machine and get us all some of those new Goldfish they put in there."

You might call it a summer, but I call it a summer job with very long breaks between each workload. 

Now, don't get me wrong, the institution can be pretty entertaining, like when my dad's forced to use his tazer in the middle of the lobby. One time, my dad gave it to one of his deputies, and he ended up getting shot in the back with it; the dude got fired, obviously. 

I slowly dragged myself out of the warm sandwich of  covers and mattress, my tired footsteps hitting dark wooden floorboard as I walked through the doorway of my bedroom, making my way slowly down the hall and out into the living room.

Sitting on the newfangled, leather couch was my little brother, Dylan. Every morning, he never fails to be sitting in the same exact spot, watching the same exact show, at the same exact time. His dark brown, wavy hair was stuck up in multiple places on his head. He looked back at me with his heedful, light copper eyes which were glowing with awakeness before returning them to the television show that I interupted him of.

Pressed between his legs and his chest was his notebook, and a thickened pencil made for a small, four year olds hands. Everyday, he scribbles in the book, however he lets no one touch it, nor breathe around it. He keeps it tucked away, safe in a secret hideaway in his room, that nobody in the house has yet to discover. It's amazing how such a petite toddler can outsmart three other people in the house.

My mom walked out of the dark hallway and into the carpeted flooring of the living room, draped  in her red, silk robe that hung just below her knees. Her mouse brown hair was tied up in a black elastic which held it together tightly in a bun, her eyes giving mine a bitter glare. She took a seat next to Dylan, her eyes not breaking the intensity of the look.

"So, did you have fun last night?" She asked.

"Yeah, it was fun."

She smiled knowingly, looking down at her fingers which were interlaced with the ties of her robe. "Tell me what about that boy."

I could feel the heat rushing up neck, finally planting onto my flushed cheeks. I hate that this happens. I guess this is one of the downfalls of having the infamous bright, light-hued skin tone that everyone dreads of having. My mother noticed my embarrassment and discomposure about the subject, so unsurprisingly, she kept going. 

"Come on, what's his name?"

"He didn't tell me." I lied. 

"Oh really?" She started, a sarcastic smirk spreading across her face. "That's not what I saw on the camera last night."

How stupid could I be? I know for a fact that my mom doesn't know how to work the advanced computer, shit, i hardely even know how to use it. I left the tab open, unsurprisingly due to my lack of thinking things through. 

Although, instead of being imprudent about the touchy subject, she giggled to herself before bombarding my brothers cheeks with kisses, implanting one on each freckle, crevase, and inch of his cheek's dark complexion. She quickly got up and made her way to the kitchen, grabbing the cold handle of the refrigerator as she opened the double doors to it, her eyes scanning the over-stocked shelves of the cold, rectangle-shaped compartment. "What's his name?"

"Mom."

"Come on, just tell me his name."

I sighed as I remember the scenario. His intoxicated voice bouncing off of the walls of the compacted room as he stated his name, which was quite rare around here, yet also unique. Niall. It was a name you don't hear often. It didn't match his drunken, slurred voice, but you knew at some point, his name fit him perfectly, as if it showed another side of him. It was sweet and immaculate; innocent. 

"Niall."

"Like the river?" She teased. taking out an apple and placing it on the counter space in front of me as I sat on one of the bar stools that lined the high counters of the outside perimeter of the kitchen. I shook my head, but couldn't help but laugh at her smart comment.

"Yeah, like the river."

My ears caught the slight, muffled sound of the house phone resounding in another room. A shot of excitement raced through me as I sprung from the stool, following the sounds and making slow movements in effort to not pass the vexatious tune. 

We rarely get calls on this phone, and the only one's to every really call it are telemarketers and my father while he's away at the office, but he hasn't called the house in months as a result of getting a new cellphone. 

I finally dug my way through some sheets on the spare room of the bed, finding the small black object, a red light flashing on the nearly microsccopic, pixelated screen to signal that it's near it's death. It was my dad's office number, maybe his phone died.

"Hello?"

"Alyssa." The familiar, hungerover voice coming through the speakers which were pressed against my ear. "I wasn't too drunk to remember, your name is Alyssa."

Niall.

 x x x x x || A/N || x x x x x

i'm loving all of the amazing comments so far, as well as the number of votes that keeps shooting up! i'm so grateful, honestly. keep them coming! i hope you all are enjoying the story, the chapters will keep getting longer and longer. hopefully it gets ranked soon! xoxo