This Town || Niall Horan

Chapter 2

Niall Horan POV

The skies looked unforgiving as I drove on the N4 through Lucan. I was on my way to my hometown.

I hadn't been back in years. I hadn't been for four Christmases, any of the birthdays of my family nor had I been there on any St. Paddy's day. Driving down the familiar road leading to Mullingar was odd. Every passing mile, my nerves got worse. Why on earth did I believe it would be a good idea to go back here?

I had been in contact with them all, of course, but I had missed them. I was missing the normality, the anonymity. Not as if Mullingar would give me either; they all knew me too well, which therefore resulted in zero anonymity and normality.

At least the people were real, unlike most of Los Angeles where I'd been living for years now. I owned a house there, an apartment in East-London and also a big, big house in Ireland. Nothing beat good old Ireland, though. At least they'd tell me if I was being a knob.

My life had been mental; I'd been in a boyband called One Direction, with four, or actually three in the end, other English lads. Our life's changed extremely. There wasn't a city in the world they didn't know my name. We toured the entire world–saw places I'd only dreamt of. Who would've thought a simple Irish country-boy would take over the planet with four, or three, others? I simply hadn't.

We'd gone on hiatus a few months ago now to explore different genres and professions. Harry had gone into acting, Liam turned into a pop-R&B singer and Louis was writing as well. I had traveled Asia for three months, which was amazing. I'd only returned a week ago. It was at this fancy party with skimpy dressed girls with valley accents, the amount of booze and the very hands-on-girls lads, when I felt like I was suffocating in this world of fame and fakery. I packed my bags that night and booked a flight for the next day. And, here I was, back on Irish soil.

Would they be happy to see me? At first, maybe. But, how was I going to explain the missed phone calls, the little to none visits in the past years? I wasn't sure. I don't think I could.

My brother would probably be the only one making a fuss about it. He'd been vocal about it on twitter, replying to fans and stuff. I tried to talk to him about it, but he often declined my calls.

And then of course, there was a girl who'd once been my bestest mate, the one I confided with before One Direction. Mum had told me she'd gotten her PhD in art at NUI Galway like a year ago. I knew she'd moved back to Mullingar, but I wasn't sure if she still lived there.

Saoirse, a girl oblivious of her own astonishing beauty and wit. The friend I'd left to fend for herself–one of the bigger mistakes of my life. Way too often I'd forgot to ring her back. She changed numbers after a while and I'd never gotten hold of it again. It was my fault, of course. I'd been the douchebag friend, though I bet she didn't understand how busy my life was at that stage.

I wondered what she looked like nowadays. She'd always been a creative one. Back then she only had jeans stained with paint, as were her hands. There would always be a little paint left she forgot to scrub off. Her hair had been long and fairly messy from memory. And when summer came along, her face would be freckles galore.

I had a crush on her ever since she, her sister and her dad moved to our neighbourhood twenty years ago. They had lived in England prior to that, but after Saoirse's mother passed, Saoirse's dad, a Mullingar native, moved back to his old hometown with his two daughters. Despite the loss, she wasn't a sad little bird like most kids would be. No, she easily interacted with me. Though she had an East-London accent and we often mocked her, she didn't back down.

We played footy together, video games, music... She tried to teach me how to draw and paint, but those weren't my strongest points. We held sleepovers, watched every Harry Potter movie at least twenty times... And when I rose to fame, I left my best friend behind.

It took me an hour to reach the outskirts of Mullingar. The streets were as familiar to me as the back of my hand.

Odd, being back here. I had bought my own property here, but only went there twice since I bought it. I'd asked the cleaners to come around before I'd arrive. Hopefully they'd got the house sorted.

The house itself was on the other side of Mullingar, a few kilometres away from my old secondary school. I hadn't been back there since signing the One Direction contract. Perhaps I should go, someday.

My house was rather big, way too big for one single man at least. But, with my gained fame came a lot of unwanted guests. In order to live a peaceful life, I had decided upon a house with gates, like I had in Los Angeles. It was heavily guarded with cameras.

I was close now. I pressed a button on one of my key chains, which opened the gates for me so I didn't have to get out. I easily drove onto the driveway, the gates automatically closing behind me.

I quickly dropped off my bags into the hallway, which smelled fresh and looked clean. But fist things first: I had to go visit my dad. I turned back around and locked the door behind me with a deep sigh.