“Are you sure you don’t want to go out tonight?” I asked softly as I peered into our bedroom, seeing the lump in the bed.
“Yeah. Have fun.” Was Niall’s grim response.
I frowned. “Do you want me to stay home?”
It has been 3 weeks since Louis’ death, and Niall has been affected ultimately by it. Anyone could tell that he was depressed, and I couldn’t help him; I couldn’t imagine having my best friend commit suicide. I don’t know, it would’ve been one thing to have someone be killed, but to have them kill themself was a whole other thing.
I bit on my lower lip, crossing my arms over my chest as I awaited his response. I hated seeing him like this. I couldn’t remember the last time I’ve heard him laugh. I knew he deserved his mourning time, but I was really starting to wonder how long it was going to take before Niall got better.
I knew for sure that Louis wouldn’t have wanted Niall to live like this, cooped up in his room, drowning himself with alcohol and his destructive thoughts. But I never said that aloud, of course.
The hardest thing to do after someone dies was to go on living life. There would be times when you caught yourself laughing, and you would feel terrible because someone you were so close to was gone, and you would feel guilty for being happy. But I really did believe that Louis wouldn’t want Niall to feel like this; yes, Louis died, and he apparently did commit suicide, but I’ve never seen Niall drink so much alcohol before. It was really starting to scare me.
“No,” Niall whispered. “Go and have fun. I’ll just...be here.”
I walked into the room, pausing by the bed and seeing his head of blonde hair. I kissed him atop his head and whispered I love you and I promised him that I would be back later tonight before leaving.
---
There was a weight bearing on my shoulder.
All I could think about was Niall when Stacy and I arrived at the club. We sat at the bar to have a few drinks, trying to talk to each other over the loud music and failing half the time.
“Are you okay?” Stacy asked over the pounding music, her light blue eyes concerned.
I swallowed thickly, running my finger softly over the rim of the glass in front of me. “No, not really.”
“He’s still doing pretty bad, huh?”
I licked my lips, knowing fully well who she was referring to. Tears brimmed at my eyes as I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Maybe you should have him go see a therapist.”
“It’s only been 3 weeks. I think it just takes time to heal, you know?”
