Two

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If I remember correctly, Niall's parents were decently kind people

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If I remember correctly, Niall's parents were decently kind people. I know for sure that they were fond of me, for Niall and I were always spending time together when we were younger. His mom would consistently give me these sugar cookies that she loved to make and I loved to eat them. I miss those sugar cookies more than anything, but I stopped receiving those once I entered middle school and started becoming distant with Niall. 

By now, I've forgotten what they tasted like, along with the faces of his parents.

Niall won't admit it, but I know his parents have always troubled something deep inside of him. He's mad at them—resentful that they up and abandoned him at such a young age, but I'm positive that above all the indignant madness, he misses them. He just won't say it. 

Niall's largely the type of person who learns to hide his negative emotions so he won't worry people around him. I wish he didn't do that, because it results in him bottling everything up and smiling like nothing's wrong when in reality, there's everything.

His folks call every now and then to check up on him, puts money in his bank account to make certain that he's living comfortably. Except that's not enough. They're not here to be the supporting adults that Niall needs. 

His house is wistfully empty and desolate, built for a whole family but only being settled by one person. It's why Niall's regularly over at my place—my mom doesn't mind, she loves Niall like he's her own; I don't mind either, since he's my boyfriend and I love spending all the time in the world with him. 

However, the thought of him being alone in terms of family still bothers me.

Anyway, Niall's parents left once high school started, flying far and away to Australia, which was more than thousands of miles away. The pair were some sort of accountants or other, and they were requested well paid jobs in the distant country. 

I don't know enough details to get into the matter. Niall doesn't ever like to talk about it, which is why it surprises me when he brings the topic up one evening.

"It really sucks, you know, that my parents aren't here." Niall says, his voice replete with affliction. "I want them to meet you. As my girlfriend, I mean."

Niall's living room TV flickers a soccer game, the sounds of the crowd cheering faint as our voices overlay their shouting. His sofa is long and wide enough to lay and cuddle on cozily. I can't help but close my eyes as Niall caresses my brown hair, slowly ample to make me want to drift to sleep.

"That's sweet," I respond. "But they already know me, remember? I was their favorite when we were younger."

Niall laughs. He knows I'm kidding. "I mean like... they don't know you as my girlfriend. I could call them and tell them, but it's just not the same. It's like when you know you're serious with someone you love and you want to introduce that special person to your folks. That's why it sucks."

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