Words: 2105
Liam’s POV:
”No! I’m fuc.king done with this shit! I may be your son on the papers, but if you ask me who my father is your name won’t ever escape these lips again.” (A/N: Fun fact: I actually said those exact words to my father, still haunts me) I slam the door shut, stumping up the stairs and into my room. There I start packing some clothes, such as a pair of jeans and a couple of t-shirts and some underwear. I then pull on my favourite hoodie, sneakers and my favourite beanie before putting my computer, pc charger and cell phone charger in the bag as well and then with my phone and headset in my hands I walk out of the room, ready to leave. Though when I reach the bottom of the stairs I’m met by a very angry couple; “What do you think you’re doing mister?” my mum asks, I just look at her "Going out, anywhere but here.” “You think your father and I are just gonna let you walk away like that? After what you just said to him, and you’ve got no where to go.” No reply.
“What, are you going to live on the street maybe, just because you’re too much of a baby to handle a lousy argument with your parents?” my fa- I mean, Geoff says, mockingly. I turn to look at him. “Firstly; it’s parent, not parents. I haven’t got a father anymore, remember? Secondly; yeah, maybe I am going to live on the street, it’s better than keeping this act up anyway. And thirdly; I’m not walking out because of ‘one lousy argument’. No, I’m leaving because of the constant fighting between us. I’m leaving because you obviously don’t care about me; you barely even remember me or acknowledge me, only if I do something that I’m not supposed to do!” I push through them and open the door, once I’m out I turn to yell the last words I’ll ever say to them “Consider it a breakup, or do as you normally do; pretend I don’t exist. For all you know I won’t, just give me a week or two.”
That was three weeks ago, the memory of it keeps haunting me. Whether I’m asleep, which is pretty rare, or if I’m awake I can’t stop thinking about it. Did I make the right choice? Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ll never know what would have happened if I chose to stay, but I imagine that not much would change. So if I die out here today I’m okay with that. I might do actually, die that is. I think I’m starting to get sick, I rarely ever sleep anymore, I’m constantly cold, I cough a lot, I haven’t gotten a shower since the day I left and I haven’t gotten a proper meal either. I’ve barely been drinking too, it’s awful! At least I was well fed at home … when I decided to eat. When I think of it, maybe this whole ‘no food’ thing isn’t so bad. I mean, I’m losing weight, something I’ve been trying to do for a really long time now, so when I think of it that’s really good. I’m happy with that.
I flinch as another truck drives by, splashing water all over me, though I’m already soaked so it’s not that noticeable. I wipe my face, looking up, spotting a gas station not to far away. I quicken my pace, feeling my legs burn. I’ve been walking all day with no more than three breaks to catch my breath. It’s exhausting! When I finally reach the gas station I reach a hand into my pocket to grab the little money I managed to get by begging. I guess it’s enough to get a bottle of fresh water, in stead of trying to catch some with my tongue whenever it’s raining. I walk in, enjoying the warmth on the inside. I take my time, walking around slowly, pretending to look for something as I try to get some warmth back into my body while drying my clothes just a tiny bit. Eventually though I grab some water and go to pay. When I get back out it’s still raining, fuc.king hell. Why did I have to be born in England?
“Hey, wait up!” someone’s yelling, but I just keep walking, if I’m lucky I’ll get into town before it gets dark and maybe I’ll find something to shelter me from the rain, seeing as it probably won’t stop anytime soon. “Hey, didn’t you hear me?” the same voice says, this time from beside me, while the person lays their hand on my shoulder. I turn to give him a surprised look. “Yeah, I just didn’t think you where talking to me.” My voice is hoarse and it hurts my throat to speak. “Oh well, I were. I’m Niall by the way, Niall Horan.” He grins, reaching his hand out. I give him a weak smile in return. “Liam Payne.” He nods, licking his lips.
