Better Than Words

Bandages

Niall's perspective

That's it then.

Christ, what have I done?

Every last piece of me shatters with the slam of the door, as loud as the thunder outside.

As soon as she walks out, the same feeling of dread I had almost a year ago settles into my stomach. I fucked this up so beyond incredibly bad, and I don't know how I can even begin to fix it.

I run my fists through my hair and try to keep my breathing steady as I feel my chest tighten. My phone rings and I answer with my eyes still closed.

"Hello?" My voice is thick.

"Is Ali still there?" asks Marina accusingly.

"No, she just... she just left," I say, trying to keep the break out of my voice.

"Good," she snaps and hangs up.

Fuck.

I stand in the living room for a good while, fighting the urge to throw something. Instead I just go to my bedroom and shut the door too hard behind me. I pick up the poster Ali gave me last week; I haven't even actually read the letter on the back yet. Her neat, loopy writing covers the back in black ink.

My Dearest Niall--

MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS!!! Thank you for such an amazing few months so far, babe. You mean more to me than I could have ever imagined was possible. I don't know how it happened, but you've rooted yourself into my life and there's no hope of me ever removing you--so, you're stuck with me, sorry. I know I'm a handful sometimes, that I'm too irritable on my period, that I'm sexually frustrated, that I'm a little needy (or maybe a lot needy), and that I constantly require food to stay happy. But the fact that you're willing to stick with me through all of it has taught me that I don't need to be insecure, or afraid, or skeptical of your love or anyone's. I've been so blessed to have someone love me like you do, and I am so thankful to have a man like you in my life. I love you, Niall, with all my heart, and I can't wait for all of the Christmases to come.

Love, Ali.

By the end of it, teardrops drip steadily from my chin onto the poster, smudging the ink from the letter. I quickly dab it with my shirtsleeve to preserve it as best as possible and put it to the side. Look at me, she was right to tell me I needed to grow up. I'm sitting in my room crying over something I messed up, over the fact that I got in trouble for a mistake that I made. It's fucking pathetic.

I think about calling Liam, but I'm sure he's in the midst of the female tornado Ali must be right now... When he came over last week he properly tore into me. I don't know why I didn't listen the first time, or even the night that it happened. He told me he thought Melissa would try something, he told me I should stay away from her because I was too drunk, but look at what's happened now. I made the same mistake I did the first time, all because I thought she was a challenge. Some challenge, she practically threw herself at me when the ball dropped.

Fucking hell, there I go again. It's no excuse... I've just lost the one thing I love because I justify this shit in my head. It's one kiss, it's New Year's, she wanted me to, whatever. And I'm a right fucking hypocrite because as soon as she mentioned that Luke guy's name, something started to flare deep down inside me. Even the mere thought of her being with him, whoever he is, brought out a rage like I've never known. This is seriously fucked up and it's all my fault.

I reach over into my dresser to grab the bottle of melatonin I have leftover from this summer. I didn't sleep well, not knowing where Ali was or how she was doing, and this stuff made it easier to get some shuteye without dreaming of her--most nights. I wash a handful of the small white tablets down with an old water bottle from my night stand despite it only being 8 o'clock. Not enough to do any harm, of course, I'm too much of a coward for that; just enough to let me sleep the rest of tonight, and probably most of tomorrow, without thinking about this. I let my head fall to the pillow, not bothering to change out of my jeans and t-shirt, and I hear the usual Friday night sirens somewhere in the distance.