HOW TO KILL A NIGHTINGALE

.two.

"Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart; of its constant hunger for what it is it wants. The way it starts and stops."

- Poe (Anne Decatur Danielewski)

(still) November 19th.

The heater was on but the air felt cold – frigid even. The hair on Niall's arms prickled as if electricity had zapped through them in a light current. Liam's cold eyes bore on him while his lips wore a smug smile. He's still devilishly handsome, as always, but Niall could see that Liam's irises lacked something that made them beautiful before...

It's as if he was staring through a soulless shell.

After another growl reverberated in Harry's throat, Niall decided that something will be inevitable. He was about to take a step forward when Zayn interjected, handing Liam his cup of coffee. "Your cappuccino...sir," said Zayn quietly.

"Thank you," purred Liam.

It was another quick glance, coupled with a smug expression, and then Liam was out the store in a dash. Like a vapor he disappeared and like the wake of a raging storm, the café was left silent.

"That fucking asshole!" hissed Harry.

And then, all of the sudden, Niall scrambled to go after him but Harry grabbed him by the arm. The curly haired lad's eyes burned into Niall's, questioning him for the reasons why he thought going after Liam was a good idea.

Niall returned his gaze with an apologetic smile.

"He's not worth it, Niall," said Harry.

"I won't get hurt," assured Niall. "I promise."

Harry let Niall go, though hesitantly. He knew something was up with Liam's unscheduled appearance and he wasn't going to let the bastard ruin his best friend's life again. Niall smiled gratefully and rushed out of the shop.

He's not worth it, whispered Harry once more in his head.

*** 

The morning sun was a ball of warmth amongst the grey autumn clouds that gathered up in the sky, heating the crispy, cold air that blew through the streets, swaying the phoenix lanterns and making the dried up leaves dance in nature's vernal pirouette. As the cold wind blasted onto his flushed cheeks, Niall wrapped his scarf around his neck, cocooning himself as he ran faster to keep up with the man in the leather jacket – his past whom he couldn't seem to let go.

"Liam!" Niall shouted at the top of his lungs.

It was just a leap of faith, a small glint of hoping, in Niall's heart but Liam did turn around. Niall slowed down, his elevated heart rate dropping as he caught his breath. He was at a loss of words at first but managed to huff out phrases. "Can...can...we talk?" asked Niall.

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm listening."

"Why are you here?"

"I should ask the same thing," hissed Liam. "Why are you here?"

"I live here," explained Niall. "My parents had a summer home here."

Liam's eyes grew colder, of hatred perhaps or even bitterness. He took a sip of his coffee and threw it into the trash bin by the street. "Give my compliments to your barista," he said. "At least one person got something right with me."

"Stop it!" Niall glared at Liam. He didn't know why he got mad – he just did. It was painful for Niall to let go but seeing Liam again was more unbearable than losing him. But then it slipped out: The reason for his sudden outburst of anger tumbled from his tongue with the guiltiest of tones. "Don't use that sarcasm on me! You know why I had to do that."