Niall Centric One-Shots

Butterflies .1.

Niall is very much like a butterfly, Michael decides.

Michael revisions his childhood of scraped palms and bruised knees from trying to catch the insects graced with beauty. He remembers keeping empty mason jars, only to fill them with colourful tenants bodied with wings that were delicate like whispers of love. Michael thinks of how fascinated he was with butterflies, and he pinpoints those interests on Niall.

Niall is all thin lips that are full with enthusiasm, shaggy dyed hair with threaded silkiness, cobalt eyes glazed with golden and turquoise, dilated pupils filled with love, animated voices and actions, pale skin with a blush radiating from it, squinted eyes of happiness, delicate body, a sugary sweet atmosphere, colourful personality; everything Michael found in the traces of butterflies.

Niall is excited, his hands painting vivid pictures in the air, eyes wide and emphasis on every syllable. He talks about how he's inherited the offer on a new project that he's been studying since year one of college; it's something he's always dreamed of. His smile is bright and pulled to its limits, almost as if it's painful, and his cheeks should be cramping, but he continues to quietly tell Michael every inch of information, careful not to leave anything out. Michael responds at the right time, enough enthusiasm in his voice to fuel Niall to keep talking.

Michael remembers that his jars never kept the true beauty of the butterflies that he'd see when they were free in the breeze. When they were confined in the tight spaces it limited their movement, but that didn't matter because the beauties were his, something he could keep.

Niall is mid-sentence about how he'll take Michael to a convention about the project when the bell on the door behind Michael chirps.

Niall's eyes grow wider, a new light reverberating in them. His blush grows deeper, and Michael doesn't need to turn around to know that Louis has walked in.

Niall's smile softens when Louis walks over, voice hushed and kiss even quieter.

All Michael can remember is how he once tripped over the root of a tree, sending his jar occupied with the loveliest butterfly he'd ever see across the sidewalk. He's left to watch the colour bleed through the sky, and the image of the butterfly to glimmer on the fragments of glass.

Niall is very much like a butterfly, Michael concludes.

Out of reach and beautiful.

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A.N: sorry for the short Drabble, but I'm thinking of maybe continuing this in another one-shot; I don't know yet, but I'll try to keep you posted on this and my other works!