Second Snapshot (Picture This Sequel: Niall Horan)

-Nobody said it was easy...[Chapter 3]

CHAPTER THREE- Nobody said it was easy...

Morning invaded my room way too quickly. I woke up at five thirty but for the first time in a year or so I didn’t get up and go for a jog. I always did get up at five thirty and did the same old routine I used to do when I was still with Niall and never slipped out of it when I moved here. Even when I didn’t have to get up for work I still got up at that set time of five thirty, normal people would lie in, but I guess I’m just not normal anymore.

It was 6:54 and I was seriously considering not going to re-do this meeting. It would no doubt be awkward with just me and Niall there and Claire obviously hates me, I can safely say the feeling is mutual but I don’t really leap out of bed in the morning to go and see someone I hate. And I am even less motivated when they told me I had to leap out of bed at this time to see them. Hence why I am now burying myself further into the covers and tuning out the soft knocking coming at the door.

Hate is maybe a strong word, but so is Love and I played with that word in so many ways I didn’t want to when breaking up with Niall. Was I supposed to lie? Tell him I’d be better off without him when I was in fact and still am hopelessly in love with him. Was I really supposed to do that? They say everything happens for a reason, what reason was that? Was that my punishment for not standing up to my Mum or maybe just my realization of realising what I do or did have before it got too late?

Everybody has a dark side. Mine usually comes when it’s my time of the month or I’m being forced to do something I don’t want to do. Niall’s sure seen it a few times and I regret those few times greatly but if everybody really has then why haven’t I seen his? I mean the only times we argued it was for a reason, and both of which were not exactly his fault. So if everybody has a dark side and I knew him so well how come I have never seen his? Because surely he should have one. Or maybe he’s just that perfect. That perfect that he’s just an all-round innocent, sweet and adorable little angel. Why am I thinking like this still? I need to let go. But it’s so hard to let go when you’re still in love. I’m hopeless, hopeless at love, hopeless at friendship and family relationships, hopeless.

The door suddenly creaked open and there he stood himself. His hair was scruffy from just getting up and it looked so cute. He was wearing a white t-shirt and some grey sweats and had nothing on his feet but some white socks. And as I knew from the past would not be white by the end of the day, if they even made it that far. I had to refrain from smiling at this as I remembered his incapability to keep white things white for the whole day.

“We have to um, we have to go and see Claire.”

He reminded me timidly; I sat up slightly running a self-conscious hand through my hair that I could feel was a complete and utter disaster and I was pretty sure I probably looked awful as my eyes were most likely puffy from sleep. I also hadn’t bothered to wash all of my make-up properly last night. And to make matters even more worse: I realised that my underwear was on the floor and he was being the gentlemen that he is and not commenting. My life is so awkward.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be there in a bit…”

I said waving a hand dis-missively as I sunk back into the covers turning away from him, he just shrugged and left. I hate this, how we’re barely talking. It’s so infuriating how I have the person I’m in love with right there and we don’t even talk or shoot a glance each other’s way and I’m too damn scared and embarrassed to do anything about it. I hate this, of course I do. But I hate myself more for making this how it is, I made it like this, it’s my fault.

I rolled over throwing back the covers hastily stuffing my underwear into my suitcase in fear of anyone else coming in. I picked up the mug that was on the window sill and had about a quarter of now cold coffee in it that I had failed to drink last night. That always happened; I would never drink it all. Always leaving the small bits in the bottom to fend for themselves. Maybe that’s what I did to me and Niall, took myself away from him and leaving everything hanging but what we had un-spoken.