My eyes blinked open and the colour blue danced across my vision, just behind the flutter of my eyelashes. It was the lightest blue my eyes had ever laid eyes on, a blue that shone in the bright sunlight that reflected off of them. The colour was intense, though I had never thought a colour could have a feeling. It was a mix of worry and pain, of love and understanding. There was so much mixed into that colour, so much I couldn't comprehend.
And then my mind cleared, my eyes widened from the slits they had been in, and I saw that the colour was set into a pair of wide eyes, and the feelings within them all made sense. Blonde lashes framed that beautiful colour, a mix of relief and worry filling their gaze as those eyes stared down at me. They tugged at the dark recesses of my brain, their depths something I had the feeling I had seen time and time before. But as much as I searched, I could not recall who these eyes belonged to.
The eyes backed up, and I unconsciously found myself reaching forward, trying to hold onto that gaze. But they didn't disappear. Instead, the eyes revealed a face. A round face with flushed cheeks, a shock of bright blonde hair perched messily on top. "Are you okay?"
The Irish accent came through his voice with clarity, and I jumped at the unexpected noise. Somehow, this boy knew me, though I had no recollection of him. "Whittney?" he asked, and I jumped again at the sound of my name, turning to find those crystal blue eyes again. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding a little too eagerly, my head aching with each bob of my head. "I'm fine."
He looked a little unsure, but offered me his hand anyway, and I took it, relishing in the smooth feel of his hand in mine. He pulled me up, and yet his hand remained in mine as we walked. I was still unsure of the boy, unsure of who he was and what he meant to me. And yet, throughout it all he was so familiar. And with each step, with each glance, came another tug at my memory, though nothing came to mind.
"What happened?" he asked. It was such a simple question, and yet I found myself stopping where I stood, ignoring the tug on my arm as he urged me forward again.
"I...I don't know." My voice came out in barely a whisper, tears filling my eyes. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing about what had happened, how I had ended up on the street, passed out. A single tear slipped out, gliding down my cheek, and his hand moved to brush it away.
Instead of letting it fall away though, he held it there, his hand cupping my cheek and his other hand reaching up to brush away a stray strand of hair. His eyes pierced mine, searching, looking for something. And I could see in his eyes that he hadn't found it. It didn't seem to faze him though. A hardness set over his gaze then, a determination that wasn't there before. And without hesitation he was leaning in, his lips meeting mine.
It wasn't small and sweet, like I had expected. He was a stranger after all. He kissed me with passion, his lips pushing deeper, kissing deeper, seeming to search for something. And I kissed him back, feeling the same passion he obviously had.
And the memories exploded.
"Niall," I muttered against his mouth. And it fit. Everything about this boy made sense. I could remember a million kisses just like this one, shared in private corners and always a secret.
"I don't want the world to wreck your life," he had told me when I asked why he always kept us a secret. "I won't do that to you."
And yet here we were, out in public, and even with my eyes closed I could feel the stares of people, hear the occasional gasp.
"It's Niall!" a shriek rang out, and yet we still stayed like that, plastered together, my hand now tangled up in his blond hair.
I remembered it all now. I remembered the day we met, stumbling upon each other in the dark, with no idea who the other was. I had been out in the park, taking a walk by myself, my headphones blasting in my ears when he had shown up out of the blue. He had bumped into me, and apologies had stumbled out of both of our mouths. In the end, we had ended up walking together, and as the street lamps finally revealed his face, I had just stared for a moment.
Though I loved One Direction, I had never imagined standing here, next to a boy that was normal, absolutely normal. A boy that was always reaching out his hand to hold mine, who loved to cuddle no matter the situation. And we would fall asleep like that, his head on top of mine, his arm holding me close, and I would wake up content.
Perfectly happy.
I felt no urge to scream around him, no urge to cry over the boy so famous. I think meeting him before knowing who he was helped with that. Otherwise, I may not be here today, his arms now wrapped around me, our lips still pressed together, the memories now rushing to the surface.
I remembered the private phone calls, kept secret from even the band for so long, and the secret meetings. It was a miracle we hadn't been caught, and it had been my biggest worry. I hadn't wanted my life set in the spotlight. I liked my privacy. And yet, standing here on the street, I wasn't afraid anymore. I couldn't be when I was with him.
He stepped back now, grinning at me, those blue eyes sparkling. "I love you," he murmered.
The words were not new to me. And yet, throughout all of our time together, I had always held back, never able to bring the words out in the open. I had once thought that I would have time to say it, but I realized now just how precious it was. At any second, he could be gone. And not just from my memories.
And so, with an equally big smile on my face, I pulled him close to me, wrapping my arms around him, loving the feel of him, something so familiar. And with my mouth pressed up his ear, I said the words I had been thinking so long.
"I love you too."
