Near To You (One Direction Fan Fiction)

Chapter One

Near to You

01

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Travelling the road, last known, is where I want to be.

Travelling – Paper Lions

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            I hated it here.

            Tucking my hands into my pockets I shuffled across the street before the light turned again, trapping me in the bitterly cold wind for another five minutes. Once I was on the opposite side of the street I allowed my pace to slow slightly as I wandered on, uncertain of where I was going, but not really caring either.

            It had been two weeks now, two long weeks and the heartache that had consumed my chest had yet to leave. I missed home. I missed the sporadic weather and the food that was too salty for my own good. I needed to be here, however, and no matter how much I wished I could be in Toronto, curled up under a blanket reading, I was stuck halfway across the world for a few more months.

            My phone began to ring but I ignored it. I had been ignoring it for days now. Every time a friend called I would have to rush myself to the nearest bathroom and lock myself away so the entirety of London wouldn’t see me burst into an inconsolable mess. I was tired of crying, and with that mentality, I had set out to discover the city on my final day off before I began schooling here.

            As the final bars played and the caller went to voicemail—another thing I refused to check—I paused in front of a stationary store. My fingers began to itch in my pocket. I had a bad habit of buying too many journals, as well as pens. I especially loved the gel ones; they flew easily under my grasp.

            Finally I decided to duck inside, just for a moment, but I wouldn’t buy anything. I couldn’t anyway; I was surprisingly poor with all my money in the wretched savings account my father insisted upon years ago. I barely had enough pocket money week by week, let enough to actually spend some of it on frivolous things like a new notebook.

            The smell of fresh paper greeted me as the door swung shut, emitting a cheery jingling sound. I felt more relaxed here than I had the past fortnight. Pulling my hands from my pockets, I ran my fingers over the stacks of books. They were everywhere, some the generic college-ruled paper, others with old and yellowing leaves. Those were my favourite kind.

            “May I help you?”

            I glanced up at the elderly man who stood behind the counter who smiled warmly back at me.

            “Just looking,” I lied. I would be buying something now; there was no doubt about it. It was my one weakness.

            There were also paperback books, some recent, some older classics. I was tempted to buy some, to replenish my severely lacking library in the dormitory, but I placed each one back where I found it with a heavy heart.

            Behind Closed Doors stared up at me from one shelf and I couldn’t help but frown a little. It would be made into a movie soon—or rather it had been filmed and would soon be released. I wasn’t certain how I felt about it yet.

I became entranced by one particular book. It had a velvety dark cover, and the pages were a lineless, pristine white.

            “Two pounds.”

            “Only?” I was surprised. Everything here was so much more expensive than back home.

            “A special deal for a pretty girl.” The man winked and I couldn’t help but grin. Two pounds I could do. Pulling my purse from the satchel that was slung around my shoulders I passed the money to him, silently promising myself that I would continue to come here.