from the streets // liam centric
- Reads 72,639
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- Parts 9
Ongoing1h 32m
Last published Thu, Apr 9, 2015
"How about we make you a deal, yeah?" Niall suggested, kneeling down beside Harry to meet my smaller frame as well. "You let us bring you to our house for at least a week. You'll let us feed you, clean you...just genuinely take care of you."
I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion; they want to take care of me?
"And after that week, if you really want to go back on the streets, we'll let you." Blondie finished, making my head shoot towards him in shock.
"You'll let me?"
He nodded, "Yup. We promise to not try and take you to an orphanage or anything, we'll just let you go on your own if that's what you really want."
I bit my lip in thought of his proposition.
"And you'll never talk to me again after that?" I asked curiously, just to make sure I wasn't going to get into something I had no way out of.
"Nope." Niall shrugged, "So what do you say, Liam? Do we have a deal?" He stuck his hand out for me to shake. I was hesitant, examining his hand carefully for some unknown reason.
I bit my lip, raising a small shaky hand and sliding it into his glove covered one, "W-We have a deal..."
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zianourry fanfiction // liam centric
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πππππππ, niall horan
β π©π¦πͺπ’π―π’π«π π’ /Λπ©ΙͺπͺΙπ―Ιπ«π°/ ππ‘π§π’π π±π¦π³π’: π π£π’π³π’π―π’π‘ π°π±ππ±π’ π¬π£ πͺπ¦π«π‘ ππ¬π―π« π¬π£ π―π¬πͺππ«π±π¦π π£π¦π΅ππ±π¦π¬π«; πͺππ―π¨π’π‘ ππΆ π¬ππ°π’π°π°π¦π³π’ π±π₯π¬π²π€π₯π±π°, π©π¬π«π€π¦π«π€ π£π¬π― π’πͺπ¬π±π¦π¬π«ππ© π―π’π π¦ππ―π¬π π¦π±πΆ, ππ«π‘ ππ« ππ π₯π¦π«π€ π‘π’ππ’π«π‘π’π«π πΆ; β΄ π‘π’π³π¬π±π¦π¬π« π‘π―π’π°π°π’π‘ π¦π« π‘π’π©π²π°π¦π¬π« β "Then tell me," I rasp. "Tell me and I'll deal with it. I'll handle it. Just-don't shut me out." "I can't," she says again, voice breaking. "I can't tell you. I can't be with you. And I can't stand here and watch you break and know that I'm the reason." She swallows hard, her throat moving. "Please don't make me explain it. Please just... stop." I take a step toward her anyway, rain dripping from my eyelashes, my chest hollow. "I don't care if it kills me," I say, and it's not bravado; it's a man with nothing left to barter. "If that's the price, fine. At least then I get to be with you before it ends." She makes a small sound, half sob, half laugh, and it's the most human thing I've ever heard from her. "Don't say that," she whispers, almost fierce. "Don't ever say that." She holds my eyes for one last beat, lips parted like she might say something else - something that could undo all of this, something that could make the rain stop mattering. But she doesn't. Instead, she exhales, low and unsteady, and shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says again, softer now, like a confession. Then she turns. And that's it.
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