Be My Boyfriend (ft. Narry)

won't

6. My Friend

Niall Horan's Point of View

These stars are beautiful. This evening is lovely. This night is perfect. And as I sit outside the small stairs toward the front door of our home, I admire the silence that floats through the street of this American house suburbia. I smile at myself, pulling out my MP3 player and plugging in the earphones in my ear, letting Simple Plan sing their 'Perfect'. I hold onto the small bar beside the staircase and mesmerise the glimmering night.

I have a personal belief that I must take independence to myself because trust isn't something you can fetch out from Forever 21. Indeed, being dependent on someone is a gamble, because this someone you're depending on can either betray you or fulfil your glorious dreams and wishes. I have yet to find someone who can give me the latter, yet I pray for them. Mother Dear says that if you're patient on waiting for brilliance, then brilliance is patient to be given to you. Like I've said, it's simply gamble-like. You can either situate yourself in success and glee or failure and misery.

Beforehand, I had a thought that the dinner that occurred this evening would be treacherous. How can you even give me the blame? Inviting the loveliest Harry over for dinner is candidly perfidious. I say this because of my melodramatic brother that, although I love very much, always has an assumption that everyone that isn't familiar to the family is a complete stranger that has a discreet plan to take me as a hostage. Somehow, Greg's ferocious mind is leading to ridiculousness that I just remain to shake my head at his histrionic ideas.

I sigh and sing along the song, "Did you know you used to be my hero?"

"I always think that you have a good voice," Greg speaks, footsteps creaking against the wooden floor as he sits beside me.

I look up to him and smile, "Thank you. Singing would be a fantastic career but I don't prefer it for myself. I like being artistic more. Paintbrush and canvas seem to be more sophisticated for me than microphones and retro speakers."

Greg sighs. "You know, Niall, I'm happy you found that Harry guy. He's a keeper."

I smile. "Of course."

And, of course, I can predict the next words Greg says. So when he adds, "But be careful", I just shake my head.

"I shall be absolutely cautious," I nod. "But seriously, Greg darling, Harry is a delicate man, isn't he? He and a friend of his are the only people who are willing to converse with me. How wonderful."

"I don't know if I should be happy that someone is talking to you or be mad that they're only two," Greg says.

"I recommend joy rather than tears," I say.

"And I surely don't know who made you swallow a dictionary when you were a kid," Greg adds.

"I maintain that detail in secrecy," I laugh.

"Niall?"

"Yes, Brother?" I inquire, staring at his pink-tinted cheeks that must have been stung by the cold of the night.

"Theo is worried about you. He said he didn't want to make you sad so he warned that Harry kid not to hurt you. He doesn't want to revive what happened before. We don't want to revive what happened before," he says.

I frown. "The past is the past. Sometimes they latch onto you, but all you have to do is not look back."

Greg exhales and releases an inaudible huff before asking, "You and Harry aren't really together, are you?"

"Pardon?"

"You and Harry aren't a couple, Niall. And don't go liar to me. Bullocks! I see a couple when I see it. You two aren't a couple," Greg tells me. "Not yet, at least."