Song for this chapter- Everything I Didn't Say: 5 Seconds Of Summer
Chapter 9:
He looks at me for a minute before answering, "Happiness."
I smile to myself and fold my hands in my lap, staring as my fingers hook around each other.
"Good luck with that one." I joke, looking back up at him.
"The only one holding you back is you." He says in a more serious tone. I wonder if I offended him. I never meant he couldn't make me happy, he's the only one who can.
"Honestly Niall, you making me happy is like breathing. It just happens." I tell him, "And anyways, how did you get so wise all of the sudden?" I ask. He seems to have developed more witty and smart lines since I left him last summer.
"I guess I've learnt a few things in my twenty one years on this planet." He shrugs with a grin. My mind catches on the words 'twenty one'.
"I've missed your birthday again!" I cry out. I did it last time by leaving and this time by being in a stupid coma.
"It's no big deal. I've had plenty and I'll have plenty more." He shrugs.
"No, no. That just won't do, I'm taking you our for once. I just got my memories back and I'm dying to use some of them to my advantage." I stand from the cold bench and reach my hand out to him.
"Seriously?" He laughs, taking my fingers in between his own.
"Yes, seriously. Now we've just got to stop by our house to- what? Why are you smirking?" I ask him, noting the stupid look that has appeared on his face.
"Nothing, you just said our house. I just don't think I've ever heard you call it yours." He beams. I roll my eyes at him and attempt to call us a taxi.
"Shut up." I smirk as a blush crawls onto my cheeks. I hate when he points things like that out.
The yellow cab pulls up to the curb in front of us and I hop inside before he can tease me about being embarrassed. He scoots in beside me and wraps a strong arm around my shoulder.
I tell the cab driver our, no, his...no, our address. We pull up after a short ride, I'll admit walking aimlessly is not the most efficient way to get places, and I run inside.
"Bottle blonde, you stay put. I'll be right back." I jump out of the seat. He yells at me for calling him bottle blonde as I run into the house, laughing at myself.
I double step up the stairs and search through my things to find cash for tonight. I'm doing this all on the fly so I really have no clue where I'm going with this. I accidentally knock my bag onto the floor and it's contents spill onto the carpet.
"Damn it." I mutter, shoving things back into my navy tote. My hand stops on the last item, my leather bound journal. I tenderly open my most loved possession and run my finger along one of the pages. It's a page of poems I wrote back in New York.
A Twisted Proof That You Are My Life:
At 3 a.m.
My life flashes before my eyes
One last drop of blood drips from my veins
Leaving myself a hollow shell of the girl I used to be
I am empty
Surrounded by bottles of pills and beer that I use to try to fulfill me
Yet, they never seem to do so
I tried everything to replace what I used to have
Which mostly means replacing you
Today, I wrote more poetry
Only I used a blade instead of a pen
It's quite magical really, you draw in silver and it comes out red
So as I lay on this cold tile floor
Now a victim of my vicious poem
One last drop of blood drips from my veins
My life flashes before my eyes
At 3 a.m.
And I see you
