Light On {Niam Love Story}

Twelve- [Part One]

A/N: I split this chapter, which is dedicated to '1Dneedisaymore' for leaving humoress, insightful comments, into two because...I can? I didn't want to have it been unnecessarily long - but I will be working on Part Two soon after this, because I CAN'T WAIT OKAY. The song is Breathe Me by Sia because I watched just got done watching Cyberbully for the millionth time, and my feels are still out of control. Plus, I find it fitting. I do hope you comment, but that makes me sound pushy, so you should just enjoy. x

"Yeah, I think that I might break. I've lost myself and I feel unsafe."

Zayn and Niall spent the entire night in a club.

Niall had a full glass of frosty beer in his hand, and Zayn was inhaling smoke from the cigarette in his hand. Of course, the club allowed smoking - good thing, too. The concert, of course, had been canceled. The lads had all decided that much together, even if it was only mentally. Between the drama, the tension, and the heartbreak, none of them felt quite up to it. They had told the fans that Liam had come down with a stomach bug, as they would never tell them the real reason they canceled, but thoroughly apologized and even gave refunds.

 Not much talking was done. Niall didn't have much to say - he never had before, and he didn't now. Actually, that was a lie. So many words were rushing through his head. He wanted, so badly, to spill all his feelings. If there was anyone in the band he could trust, it was Zayn. He was smart, gave good advice, too. He wouldn't yell at him, like Liam. He wouldn't try to shove his tongue down Niall's throat, like Harry. He wouldn't make a joke of it, like Louis. 

He would take it seriously.

Even so, Niall still felt like he was about to purge. He hadn't been drinking much, hardly a sip, and there was barely any food in his stomach. His chest was hurting, and his throat felt like it was swollen. His nose stung - just as it always did when he felt like he was about to cry.

He didn't know what was happening around him - everything that wasn't blurry to him was just a red haze. He was cold - like his body was going completely numb. A cool sweat was forming - and shivers continued to run up and down his spine; shivers as painstakingly numb as dull razors. He was sure he had goosebumps, even though his arms were covered by the long, deep green sleeves of his old cross country jacket. He felt himself twitch, but continued to stare strictly at the ground - if Zayn saw him like this...

He bit down on his lower lip - a habit he could not seem to shake, nor did he want to. He could feel his body tembling, and wondered briefly if Zayn could notice it as well. He tried to still himself, only to result in shaking impossibly harder.

"Niall? Are you okay?"

Zayn was so close, but his voice was eerily distant. Niall's thoughts were racing through his mind so fast, he couldn't process anything with failure. He couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't move - he could only sit there, twitching and ready to hyperventilate. No, he was not okay - he was pale, nauesous, and everything in between.

"Niall? Niall, bro - do you need to, like, piss or something?"

Niall threw up.

All over the floor - emptying the small bites of muffin he had eaten earlier, the majority of the Sprite, and the small bit of alcohol. But, mostly, it came up as bile. 

It wasn't much of a big deal, given the circumstances. A loud dubstep song was blaring, blocking out the hasty sounds coming from his throat as he spewed. Besides, people retched in the club all the time - from beer for the most part.

"Ew! He splurged!" a high-pitched voice cried.

One hand placed firmly on Niall's back, Zayn turned to the direction of the voice. It was a girl - blond, wearing heavy shades of blue gray make up. She wore a tight tank top - the words, Get On Your Knees, printed in a neon scrawl - and a short, black skirt. She also had on inch-thick black heels. Zayn secretly hoped she would trip and break her ankle in them the way she called Niall out like that. She was obviously high, and was hanging onto the arm of a boy who was glassy-eyed and too skinny to be healthy.