Drunk

Torn, that's what I could feel from him.

He was drunk, real drunk.

I had to do something. I couldn't just leave him and let him wander around the streets being this drunk.

"Here we are." Being told where he lived and driving him there was quite a task but we eventually made it.

I knocked on the door, seeing that there was somebody home, his guardian maybe.

But I got a shock of my life from the person who now stood in front of me.

Was this some kind of sick joke?

Or else why would Niall Horan of One Direction be standing in front of me, in some unknown guy's house?