11:11 - Niall Horan Fanfiction

Part 8

Part 8

You lay in bed, immersed in the darkness. Your eyes are glued open, it feels almost impossible to close them. You could barely blink. You have your covers pulled up to your chin, hair wet from your shower. You’d been trying to scrub every ounce of the smell of Niall off in the shower, without avail. You could hardly make a dent in his strong cologne no matter how hard you tried. You now lay in bed, exhausted and fed-up. You stare up at the blank ceiling and once in a while check the time on your digital clock that lays beside your bed. Time seemed to be moving unbelievably slow.

3:33am, the clock displays. You barely move. You feel absolutely numb. In less than 24 hours, Niall is leaving for America for who knows how long.

Summer had called you earlier, wondering how you were doing. It was hard to talk to anyone about how you felt, it was tough enough to explain it to Jill.

Slowly, you lift yourself from your bed and trail out of the bedroom in the darkness, heading towards the kitchen. You slide open the drawers and pull out a few granola bars, laying them on the counter but suddenly, finding your appetite disintegrate all at once. You shove them back in the drawer and slip onto the couch. You sit there for a moment, staring out at the window in front of you, that revealed England. You don’t dare move.

You can hear the clock ticking in the distance as you close your eyes slowly.

You feel yourself falling and quickly your eyes shoot open. It takes you a moment to realize you had only fallen off of the couch. You peer up at the clock from your place on the floor. 10:21. You groan, you hated Sundays. You get up leisurely, and drag yourself into the kitchen. You pull out eggs, oil and toast and a large frying pan. You twist on the stove and place the messily oiled pan on the element. You fiddle with the egg carton and pull out two eggs, placing them on the counter.

You wished Niall was beside you, criticizing you on how little you ate. You would laugh and complain about how much food you were wasting.

You sigh, and stop. You shut off the element and pull the pan off the stove, place both eggs back in the carton and shoving it back in the fridge. You swiftly trample to the door, pulling on your UGGS and coat and slamming the door behind you.

You arrive in a few minutes, hauling open the large wooden stained door and smelling the aromas inside. It smells so familiar. You walk up to the counter,

“hello, welcome to Nandos. Are you ready to order?” the woman asks me with a smile.

“Piri Piri.” is all you say, and she types in your order. You hand her five pounds and she tells you to wait for your order. You look around the restaurant that achingly reminded you an insane amount of Niall. You can barely stand it.

She hands you the small white paper bag and you turn to leave. You exit the restaurant and walk outside in the rain. The weather had been extremely dreary for the past couple of days. You twist open the bag and began chewing on a piece of chicken. It burns your tongue, but you keep chewing. You can almost feel Niall beside you. You tear open the door of your truck and get in unhurriedly, slamming it after you. You try to forget that in this very seat is where you had first met Niall.

Your day drags on slowly, you shop for a bit, eat, write in your journal, then sit in the park until your fingers are insanely numb and you can’t feel your toes, and finally you go home. You stand in the doorway, your head clouded. Your eyes blurred by tears. A box is left in front of your door, marked STUFF. You kneel down and open the first flap, recognizing the cologne that is left on the things immediately. Niall had returned the stuff you had left at his apartment. You rapidly shut the box and stand back up. You step over it and shut the door behind you, not bothering, or caring either to bring it inside.