Bus Seat Girl | Niall

c. 1

The last thing Niall heard before he jumped out the window was his father telling his mother how, when and with who he would’ve liked to cheat on her with. It was rather disturbing, and the thought of having to spend the rest of the evening locked away in his room, listening to his parents ruining their marriage, made his stomach churn.

His feet hit the snow-covered grass in a silent thump, and then he was running – running as if his life depended on it. Maybe running away from screams and broken frames was what he needed.

The bus was always late, by precisely two minutes and six seconds. Niall had taken the bus enough times to count the precise late-ness of the big, blue, ugly bus. And yes, Niall preferred to make up words so they would make sense, rather than checking the translator he had on his phone.

To his own excitement, the bus rolled up to the stop just as Niall’s feet hit the pavement. He turned around, blue eyes focusing on the green, old, tiny building he called his home. For a second he thought about going back home, because he forgot his jacket and his shoes were nearly soaked, but then he remembered what Gregg told him before he left. Whenever you need a getaway from mum and dad, jump on the nearest bus and clear your head, ‘right? Then he made up his mind.

Al, the bus driver who just so happened to be an old friend of Gregg, honked and waited for Niall to get on.

“Uh,” Niall patted his pockets, praying his wallet did not lay on his desk. It seemed like whatever God he had reached first wanted him to suffer, because his wallet did indeed lay on his desk. “I don’t have any money.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Al jerked his head back towards all the empty bus seats. “On the wheels,” he said, voice laced with a thick, heavy Irish accent. A lazy smile lit up his face and he patted Niall’s shoulder.

Before Niall disappeared further into the bus, he thanked Al and asked him if he had heard from Gregg. He hadn’t. Niall dumped down on a seat, leaning his head against the window. Just as the bus began moving down the dark street, he pulled out his earplugs and popped them in before turning the volume on full.

Matt Healy from the 1975’s voice sang loudly in his ears, until the bus pulled up to the next stop. Then, while Niall looked at the old lady paying for her ticket, the music on his phone stopped playing. Instead of the familiar melody of Settle Down, Niall’s ears were filled with the sound of a radio sat on a channel that didn’t work. It almost sounded like a snowstorm on the TV.

Then, while Niall tried to figure out what was going on with his phone, a girl dressed in shorts and a The Eagles t-shirt walked down the aisle behind the old lady. In the middle of January. In Mullingar, Ireland. Was she crazy? Niall came to the conclusion that she was, indeed, crazy, the moment she sat down right next to him, surrounded by twenty empty seats.

She smelled like vanilla and strawberries. Niall hated vanilla and strawberries. Especially together.

She tapped her foot against the floor in an uneven beat. Niall hated people who tapped their feet against the floor in an uneven beat.

She had long, unruly brown hair. Niall loved girls with long, unruly brown hair.