little do you know // niall horan au

chapter 19; broken frames

Mona had a very, very bad feeling about something.

It had lodged itself into her chest and wouldn't go away, causing her to toss and turn all night long.

She was exhausted. Her body was telling her to get some sleep, but her mind was wide awake, flipping though the day's events constantly. She couldn't stop thinking of what went wrong. Why couldn't she get to Niall in time? Why didn't he wait a little longer? Why didn't he hear her calling for him? Why why why why why?

It didn't help that there was this restlessness hammering around in her bones. Being in her room was starting to feel suffocating, especially when she knew that things weren't right between her and Niall, especially when she was so painfully aware that he was just across the hallway, probably in his own bedroom, and she could just go and talk to him so he would at least know that she hadn't stood him up after all.

Except he didn't want to talk to her. He'd made that abundantly clear. He didn't want to speak to anyone actually. He had Liam turning away anyone that knocked at their apartment door.

It didn't take long for the others to figure out that something was wrong. After all, when Mona walked into her apartment sopping wet from the rain, they were all there, binge watching some new show on Netflix in her living room. Harlow had taken one look at her and knew that she wasn't okay, and when she scurried towards her to grab Mona's shoulders and turn her around to face her, something in her expression was horrified. Mona wondered what she had looked like to her. Dead, empty eyes? Pale, blotchy skin? She wondered if she looked like how she felt, a bit zombielike.

"Mona," Harlow had breathed out, warm hands pressing to Mona's cold face as she gestured for Zayn to grab a towel for her. Harry had already made his way over at the sudden change in Harlow's voice, green eyes widened in concern as he took one look at Mona. "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

Zayn was draping a warm towel over her shoulders. Maybe it was because he knew her more than anyone else at the moment, but he turned her to face him, hands a strong weight on her arms. "Hey," he murmured, and when she met his eyes, there was this sort of understanding there. Like he knew exactly what the cause of her pain was. And she realized distantly that he probably did. "What happened? Talk to me."

Talk to me. That simple statement had a slew of memories flashing rapidly in her mind. Memories of Niall in the cabin, in her bedroom, in the library. Memories of bright blue eyes and light brown eyebrows etched in concern. Memories of those very words bubbling out of soft, peachy lips, of fingers tangling within her own, of her sweet, wonderful sunshine boy and how he was always begging her for one thing. Talk to me.

She sucked in a breath, feeling lightheaded again. It was too much. Her mind was constantly buzzing and she just wanted it to stop, otherwise she felt as if she'd go crazy.

"I ruined everything, Zayn," she croaked out, voice barely above a whisper. It was so quiet in the room that she could hear the drip drip drip of the water from her soaking wet clothes creating a puddle at her feet. Everyone watched her so carefully, so frozen in their spots, that she wondered if they were even breathing. "I ruined everything."

Perhaps it was the shock of her appearance and the broken way her words came out, but no one protested when she numbly made her way to her room and locked the door behind her. Before the door shut completely, she heard Harry whisper, "You don't think that has anything to do with Niall, right?"

As Mona stripped off her clothes and crawled into her bed, wet skin and dripping hair and all, she could imagine what they did next. They probably hurried over to see what Niall was up to only to be stopped by Liam—ever so loyal Liam—at the doorway. She imagined their hushed conversation in the middle of the hallway, their suspicions being confirmed.