Pretty Venom |N.H|

85

Niall Horan

September 13.

It's my birthday today.

I wish I could say that it sucks knowing I won't be getting any messages from my family today, but this is birthday number four without a word from them, so that's undeniably unexpected and a waste of hope. I've learned after the first three that there's no point in waiting around for something you're not going to get, and hoping for it will only make it hurt worse when nothing ends up happening.

Back in London, Harry's mother always tried to pull out all the stocks for my birthday. She would treat me like I was her own, meaning that she would come into my room with a cupcake decorated with candles, as soon as she got home from work. It was the only time I didn't hate having people come into my room unannounced, because I knew she would have a great dinner waiting for me in the other room.

While this effort was sweet and more than she needed to do, it was about as much as I would allow myself to accept.

It was just another trip around the sun, and that's all it will ever be.

This one makes twenty-one.

Yet I'm still me, so what's the point in celebrating?

We have a show in Denver tonight, which works out nicely, I suppose. It forms as a celebration, and it is something that will keep me positive.

I pull myself out of bed, trying to remind myself that this day is just like any other in my life – a trip somewhere new, then a show that night, then somewhere new again.

A birthday feels like nothing.

When I face myself in the bathroom mirror, my black eye is completely gone, along with the cuts on my face. My fingers are still broken, obviously taking a longer time to heal than everything else considering the severity of the injury. They usually feel fine. Sometimes I have to take some painkillers to be sure I won't feel something during a show when I'm playing.

I brush my teeth and wash my face before peeling off the tape that holds my fingers together. I wash my hands next before drying them gently, going back out to my bag in the bedroom so I can get more tape for it. I wrap them together carefully before tearing it off with my teeth, trying to wiggle them after to see how bad the pain is, hoping for an indicator that they're getting better and healing properly.

I lay back in bed after this, picking up my phone and seeing the messages from my band for my birthday. They all insisted on being the first to say something to me, especially since they haven't seen me yet. We all went straight to our rooms and crashed after we got into the hotel last night. I didn't see a point in staying up until midnight to celebrate like Liam did, and even then, look how that turned out.

My notifications on social media are more than usual because of them, where they have tagged me in numerous photos with captions all wishing me good things for today.

prettyvenomlouis: Happy birthday to the right side of the stage, from the guy on the left! Hope it's a good one.

prettyvenomliam: It's Niall's day today! Let's make tonight's show the best yet! Can't wait to celebrate with you, mate.

prettyvenomharry: It's the guitarist's birthday! Happy 21st to the person who is pretty much my brother at this point. Very happy to stand next to you on that stage.

zayn: The big 21! Welcome to the club, Niall. Happy to have you here.

I start to smile at these before there's two knocks at my door, pulling me out of my bed with a groan. "I'm coming."