Falling for Naill Horan

Falling for Naill Horan

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 51m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Mar 2, 2014
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Fanfic
1Direction
I paced back in forth in the small room. I calmed down enough to know that it was empty. Completely bare.Every slight movement I made whether it was a deep breathe, or a heart beat, the floor creaked in pain and the walls seemed to bend slightly in unison.There was a wood flooring and the walls were a maroon slightly orange. So far I've counted One-thousand,two-hundred and seventy-three steps. I turned around once more and started walking towards the opposite wall. Zayn refused to let me out. Its only been an hour but I'm going crazy in this solitary confinement. At least he let me have my guitar. I Glared at the wooden polished instrument that gleamed in the dull room. It was about 3 hours till sunset. I needed air. I slumped in a heap against the wall staring at the guitar. "What are you looking at?" I scowled at the damn thing. great, now I'm talking to things that don't even have a soul. Yay me. I get up walked to it. I wonder how she is. What if shes still in pain. Is she even in pain? is she even still breathing..? I threw my weak throbbing fist at the weak walls again. I couldn't live without her. Its only been what... two days? a week? Since Iv met her? I let my hand slide down the wall slowly. I looked at the guitar again. Its polished finish gleamed for hope that I would pick it up. I slide down the wall beside it and pulled it into my arms. I just picked at the strings for minutes on end. I didn't wanna play, I wanted Kristy. I remember the song I was writing for her When we were in my room before it all happened. She was so curious about it.. I played a chord and let the hollow sound fill the room and then played it once more. "this could never start" The words slipped out of my mouth with out me even thinking. I griped the guitar strings tighter as I let the rest of my sentence tumble out with the rhythm. She was the one thing worth living for, and Im losing it
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† 𝔩𝔦π”ͺ𝔒𝔯𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔒 /Λˆπ”©Ιͺπ”ͺə𝔯ə𝔫𝔰/ π”žπ”‘π”§π”’π” π”±π”¦π”³π”’: π”ž 𝔣𝔒𝔳𝔒𝔯𝔒𝔑 π”°π”±π”žπ”±π”’ 𝔬𝔣 π”ͺ𝔦𝔫𝔑 π”Ÿπ”¬π”―π”« 𝔬𝔣 𝔯𝔬π”ͺπ”žπ”«π”±π”¦π”  π”£π”¦π”΅π”žπ”±π”¦π”¬π”«; π”ͺπ”žπ”―π”¨π”’π”‘ π”Ÿπ”Ά π”¬π”Ÿπ”°π”’π”°π”°π”¦π”³π”’ 𝔱π”₯𝔬𝔲𝔀π”₯𝔱𝔰, 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔀𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔒π”ͺπ”¬π”±π”¦π”¬π”«π”žπ”© 𝔯𝔒𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔢, π”žπ”«π”‘ π”žπ”« π”žπ” π”₯𝔦𝔫𝔀 𝔑𝔒𝔭𝔒𝔫𝔑𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢; ∴ 𝔑𝔒𝔳𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔑𝔯𝔒𝔰𝔰𝔒𝔑 𝔦𝔫 𝔑𝔒𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 † "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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