The Fame

Chapter-21

The hours after recess are practice hours. Football, dance, music bands, Medical education and stuff. I won't wait for school to end to meet Niall. But I came with Ashton in the morning, and who's going to drop me to Niall's now? I so need a car, but dad thinks I will fly away to somewhere. He has always been that protective, or maybe old-fashioned. Maybe I can find a bus route to the street? Right, the buses. They are safe, and quick. I quickly collect my stuff from the locker, and walk out of the school. Luckily, no one known saw me coming out and the nearest bus station is too close. I walk to the station, and catch the bus to my area.

I should consider my luck that I and Niall live down the same street. Just as I get down the bus, I walk up to Niall's place directly. As i stand in front of the door, my head fills up with questions. What if he isn't here? His brother doesn't even know me, and I would look so shameless if I ended up on his door, in my school uniform. My face creased, but then a thought struck me too hard. I came here to talk to Niall, and I'm not returning without doing so. My impression on his brother wouldn't be any more important than my relations with Niall. I immediately knock the door, so that I do not get the time to re-think.

The door clicks open, and thankfully its Niall himself, and not his brother. His face creases in what I recognize as confusion. 

"I know I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." I raise my shoulders, and the words slip out just as I want them to. He looks at the ground, and shakes his head. 

"Neither me." He whispers, and tries to lead me in but I stay stuck at the door. Should I talk things out first, and fast too? 

"Come on in." His voice sounds low, and flat, and rumble. Nothing about him is showing that he wants to talk as desperately i want to. 

"I shouldn't have slapped you." The words fall out before I can alter them. This is the thing I should be apologizing for. I slapped him. Because of how he has his back against me, I can't even see his expression. Anger, carelessness, or frustration?

"I know I over-reacted, and I'm sorry. I couldn't...couldn't figure out what I was supposed to do." I break down in tears, though I treid hard not to. He turns around, as he hears a strange sound leaving my mouth, when I find my breath. 

The moment he turns around, he moves closer seeing me in tears. He moves his hands to my face, and rests his head on mine. This is the touch I've been longing for, since last night.

"You're not the one who should be sorry. Its me. I left, and that is killing me now." He whispers in a low and husky voice, and my heart acquires its normal speed. Finally. He is so close, just like it used to be. 

"I'm sorry." He speaks up again, and rubs his thumbs below my eyes, wiping off the tears. 

"But I swear, Stace needed help." He pushes the flicks of hair on my forehead, behind my ears. He never did that before, but it is so appealing.

"I know, she told me what happened last night." I say, as he moves his hand down to my shoulders. 

"And that doesn't make you mad at me?" He raises his eyebrow, and his voice sounds shocked. 

"But you were only helping a friend." I move my hands to his biceps, and he leads me to the couch. Not the same couch, though. Not as familiar, not even a percent of the warmth.

"I missed you, so bad." He rubs both of his palms on his thighs, and settles again, trying to receive a sense of comfort.

"Mmm hmm, me too." I simply say, staring at the ground. Its been a night only, but I love Niall enough to break myself apart in pieces.

"So,..are..we..?" He fails at finding words, but I know he is asking if we're back together. I can't stay away from him, neither do I want to lose him, ever.

"Always." He rubs my hand with his, and I rest my head on his shoulder. This is better. Better than earlier. At least, now, we trust each other. I've never been so relieved. We stay silent for a while, but silence has always been my weak point.

"Were you really sick?" I ask, rubbing his forearm. I am concerned, as his eyes still are bloodshot. He looks like one of those blonde guys, who only have one friend, alcohol.

"Yeah, actually." He takes his arm off my grip, and I feel embarrassed. But before I declare it to myself, he places the same hand on my shoulder. I love it when he makes me rest my back, against his sides. I shift forward on the couch, and he snakes his hand around my neck. My sides rest on his sides, and I feel butterflies. He is warm, and his body is heating up in fever.

"You're burning up, Niall!" I touch his free hand, then his neck. He certainly is covered up in fever and he looks tired.

"Go get some sleep." I tilt myself to face him, and run my fingers through his hair. I love the softness of his hair, and I love how his eyes display a childish delight when I touch his hair.

"Not without you." He laughs out, and I playfully pull his ear. I'm loving this. We are back, and I am tripping over my own feet.

"No, I'm serious!" I slap his thigh, and he pouts. His pout only makes me sweat.

"Well, I have to go back to school. I got dance practice to attend." I declare, and stand up, putting my hair behind my ear. If I skipped practices, I'm going to be blank for days, standing in the dance hall, without even moving my legs.

"Stay" he stands up, "I need you." His words melt me inside, but I have to go anyway. Nothing is going to convince me this time. 

"I can't help it." I explain him, and his eyes show clear disappointment.

"I've been lonely enough, already." His words are finally making me change my mind. Dance practices aren't as good as he is. Always go for the better one.

"Don't say that." I place my arms around his neck, running my fingers through his hair again. He grabs me by my waist, and his eyes look serious enough to order me to stay.

"Please. Your parents are returning today, right? We won't get any time together, then." He reminds me. I didn't even think of it. If Dad found out, that I have a boyfriend, who is from another country, he might stab me with a dagger. If i had to choose between Niall and Dad, I would choose Niall. Dad has always stopped me from doing things that I love.

"Alright, but I have to go back at 2, okay?" I warn him, and he rolls his eyes to the British wall clock. It sparkles and looks classy on the light painted wall.

"Stay in my room, I'll be there in a minute, okay?" His fingers point to the room upstairs, and he plants a small kiss on my forehead before i climb up the stairs. He disappears when I turn around, so I straight walk up to his room.

The room shines bright with the sunlight streaming in through a big window, with white curtains complementing it. All the walls are painted creamy white, matching perfectly to the softness of the white curtains, and the white bed sheet. The bed is soft, and big enough for both of us to fit in together. A photograph of Niall and Greg, stands at one of the bed-side tables, while my picture rests on the other. Really? Niall has a picture of me, on his bed-side table? This is serious.