linger // niall horan

five // a cúig

gus's pov

"Stupid," I grumble to myself as I wipe a few stray tears from my cheek. My chest burns with anger.

I told myself I'd never shed another tear over Niall Horan. I'd done that enough when I was sixteen. And I didn't really have reason this time around. He didn't do anything. Maybe that's why I was so upset. He didn't do anything.

Back when I was in my pity party stage of grief, I use to fantasize that when Niall returned, he'd show up to my house with a grand romantic gesture saying that he missed me like crazy. And as I got older, my fantasies got more and more rational: like, he'd show up and at least apologize.

Nothing.

Instead he thought I owed him some sort of explanation for how I was living my life. He thought that he had any say whatsoever over what or who I'm doing.

As I wipe yet another unwanted tear, I remember words Shay had told me years ago; words that have haunted me ever since.

If he truly regretted leaving us behind, he would have apologized by now.

Why did I think I was so deserving of an apology? What, did I think I actually meant something to him? I was just the a girl to pass the time with. Sure, we were good mates growing up but then he kissed me and...

Groaning, I lean forward, cranking the volume up, hoping to drown out my thoughts with some music.

"I can't wait to get away from you,
And surprisingly you hate me too.
We only communicate when we need to fight,
But we are best friends, right?"

Amy Winehouse's tragically beautiful voice croons over my speakers causing my entire chest to tighten. The lyrics bring Niall's face, all twisted with anger, to mind. The sight of him angry over Shay and I was hardly as satisfying as I had hoped it would be.

I slump my head against the headrest of my car seat. Tears - of anger or sadness I'm not sure - fog up my vision as I take familiar turns, bringing me deep into the heart of Mullingar, a few blocks away from the apartment Tierney and I were subleasing, but more importantly, far away from my childhood home.

"You are too good at pretending you don't care
There's enough resentment in the air.
Now you don't want me in the flat
When you are home at night
But we are best friends, right?"

"Fuck this," I turn the music completely off, leaving me to drive in silence.

I'm not sure if I'm more irritated with myself for letting this all get to me, or if I'm more irritated that Niall was making it hard to listen to my favorite Amy Winehouse songs, once again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I pull my sweater tight around my body as I walk the few blocks to the small brick flat at the corner of Main and Mary St. I never can find parking around Shay's flat and it only made my piss poor mood worse.

Even when Shay and I are broken up, I still have a key to his place and he mine. It's times like these that I appreciate our dysfunctional relationship.

I knew he didn't want to hear about my night more than I really wanted to talk to him about it, but I didn't want to go anywhere else. I hadn't really put much thought into it, I just found myself driving over here. It's exactly how we ended up dating in the first place. Whenever either of us were upset or feeling down - which is a lot when you're sixteen - we'd drive to the other's house.

I shove the key in the door, unlocking it. Though the lights were off, I saw Shay's keys hanging up by his door, letting me know he was home. I slip out of my sandals and throw my purse on the table, making myself at home.