Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

23 | red, orange, yellow

❝The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.❞ ▬ David Bowie

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

On the twenty-seventh of August, I slip into my prettiest dress. I haven't worn it in a long time -- my dad bought it for me, and it always felt wrong wearing it without him there to see it, like I was breaking some unspoken rule -- but tonight it feels like the perfect choice, and it's been hanging untouched in my wardrobe for so long that I almost cried this morning, feeling so sorry for it, before pulling it out and laying it on the bed all ready for mine and Niall's date. And now, the time has finally come. The dress is pale and blue and made of a gorgeous lace; it still fits, because all the heartache has left me as slim as I was back then, hugging my body before flowing out at my hips. I honestly feel like a fairy princess in it, like some Disney character who's finally found her prince. I look at myself in the bedroom mirror and smile, wondering if Niall will like it. But then I chuckle to myself, because I shouldn't even wonder. He'll love it. (He's so damn predictable, but quite honestly, I like him that way).

Before heading downstairs, I cast a glance at my thick black tights and trusty black jacket, which are also laid out on my bed. I really should put them on, because my arms and legs are still littered with scars, and I don't exactly want the entire city to see them; I still haven't hurt myself, haven't even thought about it, since the night before I met Niall, but scars take a long time to fade. Some of the deeper ones might never. Yet there's something stopping me from hiding them away tonight. It's just... I look out the window, at the glorious blue sky and beaming sun, and sigh. It's just such beautiful warm weather, and, the truth is, I'm finally comfortable with who I am. My scars are a part of me, and yeah, they may remind me of all I've been through -- but they also remind me of how much I've grown, and I can look at them and smile in the knowledge that I'll never sink that low again.

It's 6:58 PM. I'm sitting on the squashy sofa in the lounge with Mum, waiting for the doorbell to go. I can't seem to stop my knees from knocking together, nor can I settle the erratic beat of my heart. Even now, he still makes me nervous -- but, of course, in the best kind of way. It's like the thrill you get before the drop on a rollercoaster. You know you're about to have the best time of your life, but you still can't help but wonder if you're about to plunge to your death.

"You look beautiful," Mum comments, sipping her coffee. I frown, annoyed with myself for rejecting her offer of a cup for myself. I didn't want coffee-breath -- incidentally, I'm currently chewing on a mint -- but now I'm realising that perhaps a cup of warm coffee would have calmed my nerves. I imagine my fingers wrapped around a hot mug. Then I imagine them intertwined with Niall's, and I don't feel so cold anymore.

"Thanks," I say in response, glancing at her before returning my gaze to my lap. I stare at my fingers, wondering if my perfectly-matched light blue nail varnish, and my collection of sparkly silver rings, is all a bit too much. Niall will probably turn up wearing his t-shirt and jeans, and I can't blame him for that, but I hope people won't think we're weird or that I've expected too much out of whatever Niall has planned for tonight. I guess I just want everything to be perfect. Or just normal.

The doorbell rings. The sound makes me jump, even though it's what I'd been expecting. I slowly, shakily, get to my feet, my legs trembling like I'm a baby deer on ice. "Well, bye," I say to Mum, awkwardly straightening out my dress and not quite meeting her eye.

"Anna," Mum says. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I don't know," I say truthfully, shrugging. Because I really, really don't. I stare at my feet. "I just feel like this is an important night for us."