anobrain // narry au

it's

T H I S B O O K G E T S P O P U L A R B Y T H E D A Y -- all because of you guys. thanks so much.

-

-

-

chapter forty-six. nothing to fear but fear itself.

-

I DON'T GO SEE Harry, though. I don't listen to my mother's words as I shouldn't have since that was barely a discussion, without my input. Instead I decided to take a walk around a local park to clear my thoughts and my jumbled mind — the fresh air was entirely necessary. Plus it was good for me, I earned some peace of mind afterwards.

I see Harry at school the following day when I decide it's best to receive an education. I see him with his best friend Zayn walking towards a content looking Liam; the three musketeers.

I remember when I use to be the third one.

According to Zayn, however, most of my childhood was feigning an obliging pet dog to the two boys.

I probably still was as we continued to physically grow up.

In the schoolyard I read They Cage the Animals at Night as a cigarette hangs from my mouth whilst I smoke the drug. It lessens everything bad going for me right about now — my thoughts, the stress, pessimism, nihilism, it all. The nicotine flows through my bloodstream as the smoke burns my lungs simultaneously. It feels fatally amazing.

The feeling stays with me as I wait for my Psychology class to start.

THE WHITE STRIPE'S SEVEN Nation Army plays within the Colourful Sandwiches' walls as I supply my customer with the right amount of change she needs back from her purchase. Politely I tell her to enjoy the rest of the day as she reciprocates the social etiquette back amiably. With a faux smile that soon dissipates when I come face to face with Zayn.

I haven't spoke to Zayn since last year, literally.

Another fake smile plasters itself across my face as I fake politeness. "Hello, welcome to Colourful Sandwiches. How may I help you?" the words are on a repeat as I've said them continuously for nearly an entire day.

Zayn doesn't return a smile nor does he cooperate with me. "Can I speak to you for a few minutes?" he asks me instead.

I'm faced with an ultimatum. I can either comply to Zayn and speak to him after the harsh words we've departed with a literal year ago. The words that couldn't rekindle a longterm friendship nor whatever Zayn has to say to me can rekindle anything between us, because what's done is done. I have a choice to listen or avoid,

As if Zayn can sense the questionable look upon my face, he adds, "It's about Harry."

Back in primary school I had this girlfriend who was about two or three years older than me, one of Cara's childhood friends actually. She went by the name of Marina. I was certain I liked her but the feelings weren't precisely reciprocated. Marina didn't like me at all.

Marina liked the cookies I'd bring to school every Thursday to eat during lunch with the typical turkey and cheese sandwich my mum would make for me. Marina would always ignore me, but every Thursday she'd come around and join me at our lunch table because of the homemade cookies. The rest of the days she'd disappear.

But Harry remained by my side everyday of the school week at lunch. Lesson being Harry has, physically, always been by my side through the most simplest and extreme conflicts I've been involved in. Which makes me feel like utter shite for not being by Harry's through a big decision for him like this -- like deciding on a part of his future. I am shite.

Zayn lights a cigarette. He offers me his stick but I decline. Nonchalantly he shrugs before exhaling the addictive drug as I start to grow impatient. Zayn has always been a procrastinator since we were young lads —

I develop an internal rhythm whilst tapping against the concrete with my matte black coloured boots. It almost has a similar riff to Arctic Monkey's Do I Wanna Know?

It's a mental accomplishment for me.

"What about Harry do you need to tell me about?" I build up the courage to ask.

Realisation washes over Zayn because he mutters the word oh before informing me about the same situation regarding Harry. "He's taking the modelling deal. Gonna sign a contract shortly."

Carelessly I shrug at the boy with the captivating chocolate coloured eyes. My facade makes a reappearance which causes Zayn to tut at me. "I know you care, Niall, a lot," he says to me. "We may not be friends now but I've known you long enough to know the real Niall."

Those words from Zayn -- those words that barely begin to describe me are enough to make me snap. Snap about Zayn and snap about myself not knowing the supposed Zayn Malik himself.

"The only view I've got of you, Zayn Malik, is a cheating, disgusting human."

Zayn doesn't look phased at all. Instead he smiles widely at me as he says, promises me. "You don't even deserve Harry. I wish him well if he decides to take on Tenerife."

The bitter tone stings a bit. The tone of Zayn's voice and his large eyes watching me intensively. He exhales a puff of smoke when I, venomously, eye Zayn up wearily. Inwardly desiring for him to disappear from my eyesight and existence.

Tension between the both of us fill up the atmosphere like a toxic case of Carbon Monoxide. Deadly and fatal and dangerous for the both of us.

It makes me laugh. Who would've guessed Zayn and I of all would be in the position that we're currently in. But we are, and it's unbelievably surreal.

"Well Lou's in America," I shoot back. "He's sure to succeed without carry dead weight around on his shoulders."

Zayn departs with my words swirling through his mind, I'm sure of it. There's more I wanted to say, scream, announce but I don't. I don't because it isn't healthy to give Zayn that benefit that he'll most likely take as a compliment, me slowly losing my mind.

There's a faint profanity that describes I and Zayn's relationship as he leaves, though the horrid word doesn't, at all, anger me. It enters then exits my mind easily because Harry taking on Tenerife circles through my questions and concerns instantaneously.

Harry is going to take up professional modelling. He's flying to Spain to sign, seal, and deliver his soul is to the busiest career to ever be created. And I'm excluded from it all.

-

-

-

-

thoughts on the chapter. this story is coming to an end soon. in, maybe, about fifteen or less chapters.

Q U E S T I O N Q U E S T I O N : does anyone want me to write an epilogue? i was thinking i'd write several to show what happens between narry after the last chapter. if you want that comment 'eye.'

if you don't want an epilogue and you're besotted with the suspense then comment 'aye.' i'll tally the comments up afterwards then decide which would be best for me as an author and satisfaction for you as a reader.