Lights (Niall Horan)

forty-seven

Harry Styles

I look from him to her, noting any signs of sadness or regret.

Nothing but a tired expression from Niall.

Anna just bites her lip and constantly picks at her fingernail.

Either they're experts at pretending or there really is nothing between them anymore.

Anna Holden

My walls feel like they're disintegrating, one by one.

The walls, my four reasons of existing, walk towards us, in slow strides.

Now that I've finally made up my mind, time moves slower than it should.

Of course, now that I've decided that I want this awkward greeting over as soon as possible, not to drag it out.

But how long can it possibly take for four boys to take a quick walk across the lobby?

I stumble a bit, caught up in my own anxiety. I trip on the heels Harry coincidentally had in his bag, catapulting straight into him.

"Sorry." I mutter, slightly embarrassed. I try to regain my balance, but Harry's arms wrap around me soon enough.

"I should be apoligizing to you, to be honest." Harry shrugs, lifting me back upon my feet in one swift motion.

Even with the additional height, Harry still towers over me, enough that he could sweep me back onto my feet quickly and without extra exaggeration.

"It's not your fault I can't walk in heels. I feel like such a klutz." I whisper, nervously chuckling.

"Have you ever worn them before?" He arches an eyebrow.

"No, and there's a reason for that."

"True. I only know what they are because of Gemma." Harry shrugs. "But they look like torture devices."

"They are." I wince.

"You can ditch them when we get up to my room." Harry promises, a small smile playing at his features.

I only redden.

I hadn't even thought of how that would mull over.

Hopefully I can slip by Harry and stay in Louis's room for the rest of the trip instead of camping out in Harry's.

That could potentially avoid conflict or confusion, especially for... Niall.

He pays no attention to me or Harry, just the luggage cart in front of him. He heaves his luggage onto it with no care or concern for the items inside, reaching inside his coat pocket for his cell phone.

There are bags under Niall's eyes, noticeable even under the thick shades. His figure is slouched, somewhat uneven, although he is slightly taller than Louis now.

His eyes remain glued to the ground, refusing to even look at Harry or I still.

I gulp.

Even his clothing choices are drab, the grays and blacks mixing together like sleet and rain.

He looks so different from the person I first met, let alone dated.

Even the other boys seem depressed, walking towards Harry and I with much less confidence.

This surely is a rarity for the five boisterious boys of One Direction.

Either their entire reputation just went down the drain or they are completely infatuated with Niall's somber attitute.