Lay Down In My Arms - Niall Horan Fanfiction (Trilogy to If I'm Louder)

Chapter 27: Memories (Part VI)

In dedication to Directioner232677 and crystalreid123. You two give me constant support, from physically encouraging me to voting on all of my stories. Whether we've spoken or not, it means so much to me.

Loving Niall came easily to me. Much like breathing came easily to a newborn. Love was messy and destructive, uncalculated, and unpredictable. But that was the beauty of it.

Holding your heart out to someone, trusting them with it, confiding in them.

Niall was special. With a fragile heart and tight knuckles that turned white when he held back his emotions. He was everything, when I needed him and when I didn't. He was a curious thing that captivated my thoughts, from the way his tongue rolled in a thick accent to how he cut the corners off his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches only to eat them separate. He almost never pronounced his G's if they were to come at the end of his words. "Darlin" instead of "darling." "Comin'" instead of "coming." "Thin" instead of "thing."

His eyes changed colors sometimes. When he woke up first thing in the morning, they were clear, almost like glass or a tub full of water. After an argument, in all his glorious rage, his eyes were dark and stormy, almost gray. In the midst of lust, they were black almost and suggestive, but after his satisfaction and a relief of lust, his eyes were shimmering like the ocean. Like the waters of Figi or the Cayman Islands. Clear but more than blue, turquoise almost.

When we were alone, his eyes would run across my face and he would brush my hair out of my eyes, even though his was so much worse. He had a sort of crooked smile that pulled all of his good looks together, suiting him quite nicely.

Niall was everything.

And here he stood in front of me, smiling that crooked smile, brushing my hair from out in front of my eyes. "We've gotta get going, darlin."

"I still don't why we can't just spend the day inside." That was a lie. I knew why we couldn't and so did he, as subconsciously as that may be. Zayn didn't like when we were alone together, especially now that he knew we've had sex together.

"We've a reservation, I'll have you know, darlin." His eyes twinkled and his mouth pulled into a smirk. A naughty smirk that blushed over my face.

"Still, I just... I dunno. You promise it's a private table?"

I didn't like the paparazzi and he knew that. Everyone knew that. I also didn't like being poked and prodded, with everyone staring and whispering. It brought back bad memories.

Niall's suggestive smirk was taken over by a proud grin. He held his hand up, palm flat in the air. "Scout's honor," he promised and winked causing me to break into a grin.

Niall was calm like the ocean, but ever so often, just like the ocean, he was hit by a storm of anxiety. He had separation issues, which is to be expected having his parents divorce, rarely seeing his father, and then moving away from them at the young age of fifteen. Niall often worried of not seeing his loved ones, it was understandable. I often feared the same thing, a phobia that sat with me since the ripe age of eleven. Losing my mother wasn't fair. Niall chose to move away, to live his dream, but that didn't mean he didn't still fear losing everything.

His fingers are scorching, his skin was always so warm. Right now, laced into my own as he led me to the entrance of the restaurant. His skin is hard and callous there, on the pads of his fingers and the heel of his palm. The top of his hand, however, is soft. Soft as a child's skin. Soft as the smell of cinnamon and peppermint on Christmas day. Soft like the azul of his eyes.

When Niall laughs, he throws his head back and let's it fly. With a wide mouth and a loud, reveberating barotone​. His cheeks turn red and his eyes sparkle, even in the dim corner at the table we sat at, far from society's critical eyes, telling him to hush.

I am selfish. I know this.

I am sitting here, keeping this masterpiece to myself. This treasure to mankind, with no second thoughts.

I love staring at him when he laughs. I love to watch every movement. He is glorious and I'm soaking up all of the godly glory like a sponge.

He is everything. He is everything. He. Is. Everything.

I can never let him go.