Intrepid » n.h. au

Chapter 44

Leanne's POV

After knocking for the third time — and getting no answer at all — I decide to give walking in a chance. I'm not the one to invade someone's privacy, but the words "come over to the party, we'll mess around" made me think I'd at least see him tonight. I had to try this after sitting downstairs for an hour, thinking he hadn't left his apartment yet, only to fun into Seth and have him tell me he's up im his room. Life savior, that giant is.

I push the door open, instantly coming into contact with an awfully familiar smell, which the room absolutely reeked of. Bringing a hand to my face while closing the door, I also decide this is why he wasn't waiting for me in the enormous living room, or in front of the house, like he always does.

"Niall?" I call, by now mastering the ability to recognize him when he's in a lying position in the pitch dark. Sure enough, he's lying on his back in his bed, with something that my naïve self thought was a cigarette until a few months ago in his hand. "Are you... awake?"

"Mhm." Of course he's fucking awake, you idiot. "Come over here."

I smile sheepishly at his request, smoothing my skirt out as I walk around the bed. I know how this goes, I sit on his bed, we have a deep conversation during which he sounds suicidal and I try to make him feel better about himself, and then he makes the first move. That's the drill whenever he's drunk, I doubt it's any different when he's high. Or getting there.

"Hey," I smile again, this time more genuinely as I watch him, taking his appearance in. Half-unbuttoned white shirt, skinny jeans that he'd been wearing a lot lately, and not to mention the blunt in his right hand that's hanging off the bed while he peacefully stares at the ceiling. I can practically feel him saying something deep any moment now.

"Hi," He greets me back, lifting his busy hand in my direction. "Want a smoke? I know how much you love it."

Well, this certainly isn't any of the deep things I thought he'd say. "What?" I mumble, with as frown as I laugh lightly at his absurd assumption. "No I don't."

"Sure you do," He turns his head to me, frowning too but more in confusion. "But don't worry, I'm not a cop. I don't care. In a legal way."

I can't help shaking my head at him; he's either gotten me confused with someone or he's really high. "What're you listening to?" I decide to change the subject, hearing soft music playing from the end table on his side. The song has changed, but the voice, evidently female, is the same so I'm assuming he has one artist on shuffle.

"Uh... she goes by the name Halsey," He replies slowly, turning his head to his phone for a second, and then to me. "Have you heard of her? You'd love her. She kinda sounds like The 1975. The accent and the music and the slow singing. You'd love her."

At first I narrow my eyes at him — he definitely has me confused with someone. Wouldn't be weird, I've read that marijuana is a hallucinogen. God knows what I look like to him now. "I don't listen to The 1975 either, Niall," I chuckle again, pointing the fact out to see if he could become embarrassed in this state too.

"Of course you do," He insists, turning on his side so his body is facing mine, and I just shake my head. "Remember when we danced to their song in your old apartment? A few days before I got put into a coma."

Now I widen my eyes, completely baffled and a little freaked out; he's not just imagining things, he has me mistaken for an actual person. And the thought of who that person likely is is already making me nauseous. "We'd just started speaking again, after the thing with your name," He continues, his words making me gulp, "And we talked about everything. And then we danced. And we were so happy. And I was so in love with you."