"I'm tired of picking that bone, and I can't be bothered to fight it no more."
- BeFoUr by Zayn
Niall Horan
"So the nightmares are back?"
She was the stereotypical shrink, sitting cross-legged in black slacks, paired with a royal blue blouse tucked in at the waist. Her hair was a dark auburn color, with a few noticeable grey strands peeking through. The thin, copper, wire-framed glasses that she wore on the bridge of her nose never seemed to slide enough for her to push them up constantly. Probably because she never moved her gaze past the paper pad in her hands. Occasionally, however, she would flick her eyes up as she leaned back into her brown leather chair.
Her pen clicked between each question, either signaling she was going to make note of something she needed to add to her grocery list or to write an additional concern about him.
Niall despised that sound.
"It was just the one a few days ago," He muttered, "I haven't had that many. Just the one."
He didn't dare look at her, so he resorted to picking at the cuticles of his nails. Surprisingly enough, he hated being watched.
At least, in a private setting, he did.
In front of an audience, he thrived. The sound of cheering and cries of admiration that came from the fans pumped the adrenaline through his veins like no other. But in this private setting, Niall didn't just feel completely compromised being watched so closely; Niall felt helpless.
Vulnerable.
Despite his many protests, he had to attend these monthly appointments under the order of his label. In the beginning, he really did attempt to put effort into the sessions with a glimmer of hope that they might actually help, in addition to maintaining his cover. But in reality, this was the last place Niall wanted to be.
This did, however, allow Niall to be completely honest with at least one person about who he actually was. Therapy was an exclusively confidential space where he could speak about anything he wanted without compromising his work. Niall's label wasn't allowed to ask for any details during their sessions. As long as he showed positive "improvement ", they would be off his back for the time being.
"And what do you think caused this reoccurrence?" She asked, which only caused Niall to scoff.
Click.
He slightly flinched at the sound before composing himself once more.
"Aren't you supposed to be the one to tell me the answer to that?"
"Not unless you describe exactly what happened in that nightmare of yours," she insisted, clicking her pen once more.
Niall let out a frustrated sigh, hunched forward with his fingers gripping at the roots of his hair. He didn't understand why he had to tell her anything. Niall knew that this appointment would end with her telling him the same thing she always told him at the end of every other session.
He didn't need a therapist to tell him that he was fucked in the head.
He let out a dry laugh, "Ya' know, asking me to relive it over and over again isn't exactly helping me. It's not going to free me of the burden or whatever the fuck you consider it. I have to live with what happened for the rest of my life," Niall snapped.
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Vulnerable ✧ NH
Fanfiction"What do you have to lose?" He let out a breathy laugh, but she could only look him dead in the eyes with a gaze he couldn't quite transcribe. "Nothing," she whispered. However, that was a lie. She had nothing to lose, but at the end of the day she...
