Capture My Heart (BK3: Niall Horan)

-Ch 26: Sympathetic or Pathetic?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Sympathetic or Pathetic?

 I just stood in the doorway, leaning against it and chewing on my lower lip. I normally did that when I was nervous, but this time it was in a kind of warm, satisfactory, pleasure. No matter what Niall had done to me, said to me, in the past few weeks, I didn’t love him any less at all. Stood here right now watching him when he was oblivious to it, was special. I wondered if he did this to me sometimes. It was nice; to watch someone who didn’t think they were being watched in their natural environment, not acting for anyone, just for themselves.

A smile spread over my lips as I watched him. He was led on his side on the floor, a plain white t-shirt adorning his torso, joggers his lower half, and a sharpie in his hand as he gradually worked through a pile of posters, signing his name by his picture each time. His phone was by his elbow, buzzing for his attention. He sighed, capping the pen and placing it on top of the current poster, bringing the phone into his palms I watched as he slid his thumb across the screen, then put it to his ear.

“Hello?” He said, in that same, thick accent that was really like music to my ears, and half the time, it literally was. I wondered who he was speaking to, and now I was feeling guilty for eavesdropping, and wondered if I should leave and return in ten minutes or so. But I was drawn in, drawn in by the mystery that he had been smothered in lately. We used to share everything though, and I think that now, we don’t even have the time to do that if we wanted to. He rocked on his hipbone, his fingers tracing patterns in the carpet as he listened to his caller’s voice.

“No,” he said. “Look, I’m sorry to have to cancel this late, but I can’t make it tomorrow.” I furrowed my brow, the only reason he told me he couldn’t come to the theatre tomorrow was that he was working. Why would he be ‘cancelling’ if he had the time off anyway?

“I know, it’s late and I’m sorry, but I can’t get out of it…No, it’s not like that mate, I haven’t seen her properly in ages anyway, it’s not like I don’t want to go, I do. Just, sorry.

He chuckled slightly, it sounded nervous though, “Awr shut up, you’d love her too if she was your girlfriend, what? No! Yeah, whatever.

“Mate, I don’t know. I don’t like lying to her; I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up for. It’s not fair.

“What? Nar, you don’t understand. I’m not good at lying; it’s the guilt factor, alright? I’m weak, I can’t handle it, sue me.

“Yeah, yeah whatever…Alright then, I’ll text you the address. Okay? Alright, bye.” He concluded, his tone dropping on his final word. He sighed as he dropped his phone onto the crème of the carpet, rolling back onto his hipbone. He exhaled heavily before running a heavy hand through his hair. For a moment he just stared at the carpet, transfixed by every little detail that was encased on it. His mind was elsewhere, deep in thought, and you could tell by the way his eyes were wide, but not blinking as his thoughts collided inside of his head. After a minute of this, he shook his head, shaking himself out of the trance. I continued to watch him; almost certain he wasn’t going to notice me. He uncapped the sharpie again, and started to write his name against his picture, as he had done so many times prior. But instead his head seemed to wander up mid sign, I followed his gaze to the canvas that hung above our bed, it was a picture from a few years ago, the first time I had been to Ireland with him. It was so long ago, that I could hardly remember smiling for the camera like that. It seemed weird how much I had changed, when I thought I hadn’t really at all. He continued to study it for a while longer, before shuffling in his position, and going back to signing each and every poster.

I took this as my opportunity to make an entrance, one that went noticed. After surveying the scene for a minute or so, I crept slowly forward, crouching onto the floor behind him, moulding my body to the same position as his own, surprisingly without him noticing. I smiled to myself as I carefully pressed my front against his back, my arms slipping around his waist he capped his sharpie again, placing it on the floor.