"The Ice Cream Truck"

Chapter 13

NIALL'S POV

Opening the wooden door, I make my way over to the cabinets, grabbing a thick blue towel.

I throw it over the shower wall, running hot water.

I feel the hot water run down my back, washing the cluttering thoughts building on my shoulders.

I try not to care, but for me it's completely impossible.

She is the center of my life, the light of my day, and all the things making life worth living.

The feeling of falling in love with her, heavies out the feelings I had when I first became famous.

I smile at the warm memories with her, pushing back into mind.

I close my eyes, watching the times we had together like a movie worth seeing, and simply enjoying.

If only things didn't have to take a twist like this...

Drained in the warmth of the shower, Liam barges in, bursting my bubble.

"Niall, Where did you place the remote?" get your lazy ass out and find it yourself..

"I left it under a pillow on the couch." trying to ignore his further questions.

"Niall.. Did you hear me?"

"Do I want to?!" I burst from all my storming emotions.

Leaving him in complete shock, Zayn joins in the bathroom.

"What's all the screaming?" Liam is quick to open his mouth.

"Well, if you can see, Niall is having another tantrum." I picture myself, wrapping my Irish knuckles over Liam's neck.

"Niall, your tantrums are waking me up.." shut the fuck up,' vain-mirror-breaking-Zayn.'

"Really? Then tell 'Liam Baby Boo' how to play , 'Seek for the remote."

He shakes his head, furthering a mumble.

"Idiots.." he silences, backing out of the bathroom.

"Okay so Niall, when your smile returns in just awhile, follow each and every tile, to stop your tantrums and bile." I hear him mumbling under his breath, trying to find a fitted word to his dumb ass, unofficial poem.

"That was shit Liam." I rinse the remains of soap patches, spread across my body.

Without a response, I am left with a loud shut, slamming the door into place.

I can't remember why I ever agreed to join a boring boy-band.

It's all shit. It used to be fun, as we would be able to joke around one another and play Fifa all night.

I remember that old life, and so badly want it back.

The days where I could wear whatever I want.

The times where I never associated into relationships.

Each and every day I would wake up, feeling like myself.

I still forever and always remain thankful for creating musical world records and a retrieve of many devoted fans.

But now as I think of each year adding up to this, I feel as if I am comprehending bigger amounts of reality.

Thinking negatively, I could stand here, creating a huge variety of conflicts going on in my life right now.

As I follow behind the clouds of steam disinigrating through open waves of cool air, I wrap my towel around my waist.

I use the palm of my hand to shape and fill in a clear circle on the fogged mirror.

Staring at all my recently fixed imperfections, I barely recognize my reflection.

I don't take the time or care to see pictures of me globally, I still struggle with a light fear of not blending/fitting in.

In the beginning, I had help with anxiety and overwhelming doubts.

It made a positive impact on my performances and publicity paparazzi.

I was great for three years, now it's worse than it's ever been.

My reasoning is crazy but, out of all the millions of fan girls dying to marry me,

I only care more of what this one girl thinks of me, than of all the opinions in the world added up.

Every time she gave me an unknown look, my heart sank further and further into my chest.

I always will regret that brutal love-killing night.

It's my fault, no matter what anyone says, trying to be sympathetic with me or not.

It's all my fault, I ruined all of her life hood memories, and ruined who she was.

I know almost for sure, she won't get a single memory back.

I try to think of the remaining five percent, but it's obvious what will happen.

I throw on a pair of baggy grey sweats, and a white sleeveless shirt.