Daytona Baby [N.H]

49

Niall Horan

It's been nine days, two hours and thirty-seven minutes since Liv left. Quarter to twelve she walked out the door; by noon I was wasted. I don't think I've had a sober moment since.

I've taken to laying on the floor of my hotel room with my guitar resting on top of me while I plucked the strings carelessly. I couldn't quite recall the entirety of the evening before, but I knew I'd made myself at home on the cold, hard floor long before I passed out. It was two hours ago now that I woke up and I haven't attempted to move yet. I don't have the strength. I've been running on alcohol and cocaine, only eating bits of food Louis would shove at me occasionally.

"You look like death," he told me yesterday during soundcheck. It's probably true. I feel like death. It's obvious to everyone that I've been in rough shape since Liv left. I just have to keep reminding myself that we did the right thing.

She has no idea how close she came to losing her life—literally and metaphorically. I'll never let that happen to her. Not at the hands of Oliver, or anyone else. She's better off far away from here. From me.

The band is my main focus now, along with staying on Malikai's good side, but it hasn't been as simple as that. My mind keeps running back to her. Thinking about our night in San Francisco, replaying it over and over until I get to the part where everything went south; where Oliver showed up, threatening to tell her about everything. And I don't doubt for a second that he would if it'll cause more harm to me than to him.

My main concern upon finding out that Oliver had been hanging around Liv was that I have no way of knowing what he's been reporting back to Malikai. He could know all about her. He could've had his eye on her this whole time and I'd never know. Or maybe Oliver took an interest in her for personal reasons, a possibility I equally detest. Either way, it was a risk I wasn't willing to take. Neither was Liam. We did the right thing.

Then why do I feel like I did the exact opposite?

I'd been fighting with the logical side of my brain for weeks, letting my heart dictate my actions more often than not. And look where that got me. All it did was make it hurt even more to say goodbye. Fuck, that was the hardest thing I've ever done.

"We had our fun but it's over now."

"There's only one outcome and it's you walking out that door."

"I lied."

The cruelty of my own words haunt me.

The way I stood there and lied to her face, convincing her that she never knew me at all. That I never loved her. I couldn't even look her in the eyes or I'd take it all back and explain everything. I really wanted to. I hate being the cause of her pain.

I had to start drinking, start forgetting, before it was even over. It hurt too much to see her hold back tears and try to be strong when I know she felt anything but.

She's better off without me. I'll repeat that until I believe it.

So, for the time being, I drink myself into oblivion, do enough coke before our shows to get me through it, and try to write music so the suffering won't be for nothing.

I've been inattentively strumming the same succession of chords repeatedly. It's the only thing keeping me somewhat sane; keeping me from drowning myself in whiskey for as long as I can resist, which may not be long.

I close my eyes to take a break from staring at the ceiling, and start humming a random tune. It sounds kind of nice. I should get up and write this down but I can't be bothered. I just kept humming along with my guitar, waiting for the words to come.