All Those Missing Pieces; Niam & Larry *Completed*

Chapter twelve

Chapter 12

~Girl Liam~

I had been born in the Bronx, New York. I lived in the side of town mangled with graffiti and violence and gang sings. With guns and alcohol. I had been born with less than perfect hearing. No one knew why I had lost it, figured it was a defect and it was something that I’d never get back. I lost the majority of my vision in my third grade year. Panic attacks started about 6 months after I moved to Queens. It was three months after my mom was thrown in prison for shooting Heroine.

Queens has a lot of beetles fans, swooping haircuts, and beaded doorways. If you wanted to get high, climb up the stairs in a shabby Queens apartment building and you’ll be messed up on dope smoke so bad when you finally get to the top floor. You’ll be lucky if you can open the door to your own house.

It was a bitter cold night in Ireland. It was quiet, like a thick blanket had fallen atop the quaint town and muffled all sounds. I was pretty sure that it was going to snow soon. The clouds were full and dark overhead, and only small glimpses of the moon could be seen between the menacing night time clouds. The street I was walking down, I presumed it was somewhere between the floral shop and the soup shelter, was illuminated only periodically by small pools of yellowish lights, spilling from the lamp posts that hung over head. My glasses made them reflect weirdly, and as I slipped in and out of the shadows I looked up at them. I bent my neck, looking up at the silver painted street-lamps, some with tacked and stapled on posters, and others shiny or with random blotches of white powder. To me they resembled hands, arms reaching out after me to pull me down.

I was barefoot, and the small, curvaceous dress I had slipped on was not the warmest thing. I was actually, wishing, I hadn’t tried to look so cool and thrown my shoes and sweater on the ground. That decision was really coming to bite me in the butt, with the biting chill. My cheeks were flushed from the snippy air, and in wondered where I was going. Home? Was I going home? I guess when I left, however much it takes from me to admit this, something inside of me had hoped Louis and Zayn would come chasing after me. They sweep me off my feet and I’d be okay, and I’d live in a mansion with them. I’d quit smoking and start puffing those flavored, fake cigarettes, and I’d sit out on the porch in the moonlight in a satin robe with Zayn and he’d tell me all about riding the roller coaster that is life. I had a lot of stupid imaginary, day-dreams like that one. With a growl of frustration I sink to my knees on the ground, wrapping my skinny, cut-up arms around my knees. I set my chin on my knee caps, in then end up burying my face in my legs and leaning my back against the slightly elevated concrete of a curb. I reside in the middle of the shallow of light, and trying to push down a swelling depression I struggle against the main instincts to shut down.

To pull down the iron curtain, walk home and let my father and his friends do as they please. Have this nonchalance face when I don’t show up to school on Monday, and pull up my hood when I snake my way down another ghetto alley. I could imagine it all, cycling through my life like I have a time-table. And just waiting for the day when my walls come crashing down and I cut to deep, or swallow too many pills. When the anti-depressants don’t work and I jump off a bridge.

Would that make me a coward? To stand on the edge of a concrete bridge and let my toes peek over the edge? To go limp, like a rock, and slip into the ocean or a stream and never come back up? To plug my nose, or swallow great big lungfuls’ of water on purpose? So many people think it takes so much courage to commit suicide.

But it does not. If you take nothing away from this tale of a half-deaf, half-blind, messed up and screwed over girl take away the fact that it takes no courage at all. Suicide is the ultimate of simple escapes. No more pain, or tears, or terror if you tip your palm back, or press your razor a little harder into your skin. It is so dang simple. It is cowardly. It is what I’ve craved to do so many times I couldn’t tell you how many-even if I wanted too.

It’s what I want to do now, as I stand and shiver in the crisp, cold, pre-snow wind with small raindrops beginning to hit my body like daggers. Stumbling along, with my knees clinking together I leave the pool of yellowish light and slip into the shadows once again as I stagger, drunkenly along down the dank, empty, dark streets in Mullingar. It feels like the shadows are enveloping me, swallowing me up in the darkness and their strength. They are everything I am not, concealing me from the pain and the hurt and the struggles. Strong, steady, unstoppable. I manage to keep myself some-what balanced as my own salty tears blind me and for a few pathetic moments I drown in my own self pity.

I wish that Louis would come, with my sweater and shoes. He’d slip them on my feet and I’d go riding off into the sunset as One Directions’ number one fan. I’d be happy.

But I am pretty happy now. I pronounced Liam and Niall as senior prom kings and I put tiaras on their heads. I did something no other girl could say they did.

SO just as the rain starts to pound down on me with so much force I am forced to bend over in an awkward 90% angle, I hear something. Something beside the pitter-patter of the rain and the steady ring of my sobs. My quiff flattened, my hearing aid buzzing from misuse in my ear, and my glasses smudged Louis and Zayn come spinning, at  a flat out sprint from behind another set of buildings. Louis wraps his arms around me; thanking the lord in a semi-prayer that I hadn’t had time to commit suicide yet. In then he smiled a warm, tear mingled smile at me.

And it was dazzling.

But then, I passed out.

~…~

Liam tugged on Niall’s hand, laughing loudly and happily as they splashed out the doors and into the rain. Grinning, Liam scooped Niall up in his arms and jogged him steadily out into the middle of the parking lot. All the boys could be sure of was the warmth radiating off of one another, their ragged breaths, and the steady pounding of rain on their muscular bodies. With a great, heave of his body the blond boy twisted his head and sneezed loudly. His whole body shook with the power of the sneeze and Liam laughed. He set the smaller boy on his own two feet, softly. Making sure to keep a hand on his waist steadily so his leg wouldn’t be strained. In then, with his right hand on Niall’s left hip, Liam lifted his hand and cupped one of his lover’s cheeks. Their breathing was ragged, their warm breath fogging up the air as Niall’s soggy hair flattened on his head. Water dripping down both of their bodies, and Liam discarding all thoughts of his rented tux, the boy leaned in and sealed the perfect night with the perfect kiss in the rain.

Niall giggled sweetly when Liam pulled away, his cheeks flushed a pink, embarrassed tinge. Leaning forward once again Liam breathed flutteringly on the Irish Lads face, smiling so dumb and so wide he feared his face might split in two.

“I thought Haz was the one who wanted a kiss in the rain,” Niall said softly, running his fingers lightly over the brunette boys face. He smiled when Liam shivered under his touch and traced the boys’ mouth with his thumb nail.

“Oh, baby, I love you.” In then, breathless, and dumbfounded Liam stopped. His heart seemed to thud painfully in his chest, and Niall just stared in a sort of amused horror. In then Liam sneezed and Niall said….

“I love you too,”