Uptown Boy (Narry Storan)

45. Message

Time: 12:39 PM, Sunday
Time left before Niall leaves for Paris: 4 hours

HS

Hearing his voice, is all I need and it's all I want. Unfortunately, you can't always get what you want, can you?

I stare out of my window, the afternoon sun shining through. My eyes are burning with tiredness, my stomach is grumbling in hunger, but I somehow just can't bring myself to do anything about it.

The scene replays, over and over again in my head. His cold words, how he said he didn't love me, how he made me leave. How I walked away. And fucking Elijah Reynolds, and his stupid cocky face. But honestly, he can go stick a cactus up his crusty arsehole. Dickhead.

But what hurts even more wasn't the fact that I had to walk away. But it's the fact that he didn't even bother running after me.

I mean, isn't it absolutely terrifying? How you can go from someone being a complete stranger, to being completely in love with them and then suddenly, they're just not here, and they just don't care? And the scariest part of it all, is that you don't even know why.

Does he even know what he's doing to me?

I just want him out of my head now. Please and thank you.

Obviously, asking my mind nicely doesn't work. I push myself out of my study, heading down to my kitchen, peeking in through my wine cooler. The only way to rid of my thoughts of Niall, is by drinking. But I've learnt my lesson from two nights ago. I won't get pissed drunk. Just tipsy enough to remove this painful, aching feeling I feel inside.

Who the hell cares if it's midday?

I pop the bottle of wine open, reaching for a glass, pouring the deep red liquid into it. I raise the glass to sip, feeling the sweet burn on my tongue and throat. It was soft and comforting, therapeutic almost.

Just like Niall was.

Well, fuck Niall.

I took another sip. A larger one this time. Then another, and another, and another.

On my forth glass, I finally made some effort to put some food into my stomach besides simply filling myself up with wine. Pop tarts and left over chicken from a couple of nights ago. Weird combination, but I just really couldn't be arsed. After that pathetic lunch, I took another glass of wine. I was tempted to take another, but I stop myself because I'm just so exhausted. So fucking exhausted from all the fatigue and lethargy, and from Niall running through my mind all day.

I toss the glass and plates into the sink, and drag myself back up into my bedroom.

As I lay on my bed, my mind spins, and I'm flooded with blurred images of Niall. But I just.. don't feel anything. I know I'm mad and heartbroken and sad about Niall, but now, I just don't feel anything about it. I'm just numb and lost and empty. Like, I'm nothing but a shell.

And before my mind could process what was happening, the alcohol in me starts controlling my actions. I find myself pushing my body out of bed, and towards my drawer. I dig through my clothes, before pulling out a black hoodie. Niall's hoodie.

I bring the material up to my nose, inhaling deeply. I release a soft sigh, letting his fresh, musky scent invade my senses.

And with that simple whiff, it somehow, made every single raw emotion rush back to me. I grip the fabric tightly between my fingers, desperately trying to fight back the tears. Obviously, not working so well.

Why do I do this to myself?

You're such an idiot Harry. You knew jolly well that holding his hoodie would just make you feel even worse.