d.u.i » niall horan a.u (on hold atm)

f i v e

Walking into the institution later that morning was about as perplexing as embarassment can get. It felt as if my cheeks were becoming more flushed with each step my small, delicate feet made against the concrete floors which spread throughout the whole building. I looked down the hall, wise of the fact that the Cell Cabin which held the blonde boy who supposedly went by the name Niall, was just a couple of doors down. Although the temptation was hanging loosely in the air, I resisted and walked into my fathers office, my little brother's clammy hand laced within mine, his notebook, which was nearly dragging across the floor due to his heigth, in the other.

My dad was surprisingly sitting at his desk, his broad frame curved over the contrastingly small computer monitor, his large hand taking over the mouse as well as his fingers clicked the small object once every couple of seconds. He gave me a look before allowing his eyes to return back to the pixelated screen. A lump in my throat formed immediately as our eye contact came to a stop.

What if he's seen the footage already? He's always told me ever since I can remember, to never make too much verbal contact with the arrest, because either one of us will either get too attached, or let out too much information. What if telling him my name was a mistake? How did he even get ahold of my dad's phone? 

"Getting really friendly with the blonde kid, aren't you?" My dad muttered under his breath, his impassioned stare burning into my flesh again. I looked to his eyes to see that their once bright, hazeled glow were now contorted into a dark, dreadful rust color. I shook my head, putting my back against the wall.

"All I told him was my n-"

"Your name." He cut me off. "How the hell could you be so irresponsible?"

"Dad, it's a name, I honestly don't see what the big deal is."

He shook his head in response before shifting his eyes back to the screen. He always makes the biggest deal out of the smallest things. It's a name. The boy was stripped from all of his personal items, devices, etc; so how is he supposed to use my name to his advantage anyways? It's not like he'll remember when he finally gets out of this place, granted that he'll probably be stuck here for a while.

The crash of the rolling office chair hitting the wall broke the silence that filled the room as my dad got up, grabbing the pair of handcuffs from the edge of the desk before walking out of the door, running his calloused fingers through the mop of brown hair that lay messily ontop of his head. The slam of the door was the last sound that echoed the room for a while, before the silence was again interupted by the innocence of my baby brother.

"Mommy, why can't I play basketball with them outside?" He asked, getting out of the chair that swallowed him in size and walking to the window, standing on his tiptoes to see above the sill. His index finger made it's mark against the glass as he pointed to the group of arrestees outside on the basketball court, something that the institution finally was able to add to the property. It was something for the people to do, although it wasn't necessarily a treat, the excruciating heat taking a toll on most of them after a while.

My eyes wandered from each of the hundered of males outside on the concrete court. You could barely hear the faint sound of the abundance of basketballs hitting the ground with force, along with the slams of metal backboards as a result of the poorly shot balls thrown into them. 

I looked to my mom, who's head was again in another college magazine. She was obviously unaware of neither my brother's nor my own existence. I got up slowly, opening the caustic, annoying, creaking wooden door again, my hand tightly gripping the round knob. Fortunately, my mom was too deeply drowned in the metaphorical pool of immersion caused by the brochures to even hear my well-announced exit.. My brother was loyal and kept quiet as always, allowing me to safely leave the room and walk through the lobby to the doors until being stopped by one of the guards that I unfortunately have come to know really well.

"Going somewhere?" He asked, his hand patting against the thick material of his uniform pants. I nodded in response, pointing to the parking lot.

"Yeah, I just forgot something in the car." I lied. He nodded and gave me an understanding smile, opening the door and allowing me through.

Once my feet made the crunching sound of contact to the gravel, I quickly paced around the corner of the scattered-brick building, the bright orange uniforms clear in view. 

I was actually quite apprehensive about the walk to the electrically charged, chain linked fence that seperated the men in uniforms from their freedom. I kept my distance from the baracade, assuring that I didn't get too close to the nearly terminating, high powered shock. The security guard was facing the opposite direction of me, which was a good sign, however he could turn at any moment and catch me gazing at the glowing orange show of poor sportsmanship infront of me.

My eyes caught a glance of the blonde headed boy, who was crossing through the field of people blocking him from the desired net. He passed the slick ball to who I'm assuming to be one of his teamates. His hands clasped together behind his neck, his chest rising up and down as his lungs searched for air through the sweat stained, orange material of the shirt that was probably four sizes too big. His eyes made way around the whole court, one of the other games catching his attention before his stare was interupted by the ball being brutally thrown into his chest.

"Watch your own fucking game!" One of his fellow inmates screamed at him. He backed away slowly, probably cursing the kid out in his head before walking my direction, his head down, eyeing his lustrous white shoes. It's not worth fighting, or getting out of shape while in one of these places, it would only get you more tally's on your chart, and a possibly longer holding sentence.

He reached down and grabbed the water bottle that was kindly given to him by the institution, the catch being they all sadly only got one during gameplay. The tip of the bottle made it's way to his pastel pink lips, them locking around the it in order to salvage water from the thing. 

He was amazing to look at; the temptation being unavoidable. His lightly sun kissed skin glistened with sweat as the sun harshly beat down on him. His hair which was at the moment a home of sweat droplets was tousled against his dripping forehead. His eyelids hung low, due to the probable lack of sleep, and hours of exausting game play. He quickly forced his eyes shut as he squeezed the cool water out of the squirt bottle and onto his face, his hair and shirt becoming even more drenched than before. He shook his hair around, causing a couple of reactions from the charged fence. His eyes finally made contact with mine, a smile spreading across his face.

"You, huh?"

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked, laughing at his sudden quirkiness. He quickly put his finger to my lips, hinting that the guard could hear my voice before shaking his head.

"No, it's not a bad thing." He stated in a more quiet tone, setting his bottle down before sitting down beside of it, looking up at me. "You should get out here and play."

"Maybe I would, if the security out here wasn't stronger protection than birth control itself." I teased, earning an obvious fake laugh out of the kid at the horrible joke. He shook his head, looking at the transparent, yet still in sight waves of electricity shooting throughout the fence.

"Then let's play when nobody can see us; In the dark."

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