This Town || Niall Horan

Chapter 9

Niall Horan POV

Because I knew Greg had a day job, I went to his house after dinner. Going to his house was just as worse as running into Saoirse today. But, this had to be done. I needed him to know I wasn't his enemy, or whatever he might be thinking.

I'd only been to his house twice before, up in the Petiswood manor neighbourhood. Once when my little nephew was born and for his first birthday. They surely had done well for themselves. Being related to me had probably been a factor of their sudden wealth, too.

I parked the car on the parking lot across their house. "You've to face it someday, Horan," I muttered to myself as I stared at the house from my dark car. With a swift movement, I got out of the car. I wasn't sure whether my nephew was awake still, but I had come prepared and bought a few toys for the missed birthdays.

With the bag in hand, I crossed the distance between my car and their front door. I carefully got up the steps, careful not to trip and end up at the bottom again.

The cold air seeped through my open jacket and the hot air I breathed out was visible through small clouds. I'd forgotten how the winters up here were. I had to remember to buy a new coat tomorrow.

I rang the bell. It was an annoying one - an electric, buzz kind of bell. It took a few moments until the door opened.

It was my sister-in-law, thank God. Greg might've shut it right in my face, I knew.

Denise stared at me, not blinking. "Hi," I spoke as I tucked one of my hands in the pocket of my jacket. "Is Greg home?"

She nodded as she moved aside. "Come in," she said. Her voice was neutral, which I suppose was a good sign.

"Thank you," I said as I walked past her, into the hallway. "Make yourself at home," she said, pointing at the living room. "Thank you," I replied as I wiped my shoes on the doormat and walked into their living room.

I heard Denise go up the stairs. I looked around the living room. It was only the beginning of December, but Denise had wrapped everything in Christmas decor. It was tasteful, so it was. There were pictures of little Theo of all ages, mixed up with pictures of Greg and Denise together, as well. I also spotted a picture of dad with Theo. The picture that they'd put up here those years ago, was nowhere to be seen. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

The house felt really homely. Something I'd never really managed to get. Perhaps you needed a wife and a child for a house to feel like a home. I wouldn't know.

I heard heavy feet coming down the stairs. Thinking I'd barely heard Denise's, I knew it must've been Greg's.

"So at last he returns, the lost Horan son," Greg spoke monotone as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What makes you think you're welcome at my house?" His accent was as heavy as mine used to be. A life in London and Los Angeles surely had softened mine.

"I was wondering if we could talk," I said to him. "Privately." 

"Whatever you want to say, you can say it right here," he spoke, not caring for any privacy. Okay well.

I scratched my neck, sweating a bit in my jacket. The temperature had been set on high. "Okay," I nodded. "I'm sorry." 

"If that's all you can do, you might as well leave," Greg muttered. "Unlike you, I've responsibilities of my own, like a child and woman to take care of." He wanted to turn around.

"Okay, Jesus, wait," I blurted. "I'm sorry for not returning your calls, for ignoring your messages, tweets and whatever way you tried to contact me. I'm sorry for not being here as much as I had to be. I'm sorry for missing most of Theo's birthdays. I know I'm a douche."

"Yeah, all the while we were stuck in Ireland, while you were getting your daily tan at your L.A. mansion overlooking downtown."

"I don't tan," I spoke through my teeth. "Nor do I own a mansion overlooking downtown L.A."

Greg raised his arms in disbelief. "You know what I mean! You were seeing the world, living the life, hooking up with girls while you left us here to rot," he spat, pointing at my chest.

"Oh yeah, because you live in such a dumpster of a house, you do!" I replied, batting his pointing hand away. "I'm not saying you didn't work hard for it, but don't pretend my fame helped you out loads of times. 'Oh, you're Niall's brother aren't you? I'd love to do promotions for you! Here's a free fucking beer!'" I mocked some salesman. "Plus the modeling work Theo's doing? Probably not because of his last name, would it?"

"Oh shut up, you fecker or get the fuck out of my house," He hissed at me.

I sighed and turned around. Get your fucking shit together, Horan. "Look, I'm not here to fight or to point fingers," I said and turned back around. Greg had put his hands in his sides. "I've worked my ass off these past years and did some things I'm not proud of. But, most of the time I had no say in it, at all. So I'm sorry. Sorry for not being here, okay?"

Greg bit his lip. "I need a little more time to think of it," he spoke after a minute. 

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you need," I nodded. I looked at the bag at my feet. "Mind giving this to that rascal up there?" Greg just nodded once. 

"Well. I'll see you around, then," I said as I walked past him to the front door.

"Does Saoirse know you're back?" he asked me. It stopped me. "Yes," I breathed. 

"It surprises me she hasn't killed you yet," Greg muttered, as he sat down on the sofa. "I would've."