Something About You

Ten. April, 2010.

Niall's having a bad morning.

It's 9am and he hasn't done anything yet, which is the problem. He hasn't touched any of his homework for the day, hasn't studied for his maths exam this afternoon, still hasn't managed to scrape together enough cash to buy the French textbook he so desperately needs, and hasn't even begun thinking about his end of term project for Irish history. If he gets one more D coach will sit him out of football until he gets his marks up and, on top of it all, he feels like he hasn't slept in days. He's most creative late at night, he finds, and his songwriting is starting to take precedence over everything else. If he's up until 5am writing most nights, it's for the best. At least that's what he tells himself.

Still, it doesn't feel like it's for the best at 9am when he's leaning up against Mully's locker, running on three hours' sleep and two Red Bulls. He feels nauseous with exhaustion and anxiety over having to face teachers all day, having to explain why he's got nothing to hand in and nothing useful to say in class discussion. Mully won't shut up about Easter holidays, either—he wants to go see The Script in Dublin and Niall has no idea how to tell him that he can't even afford a fucking French textbook right now, let alone a ticket to see The Script at Croker.

He's just about to walk away, tell Mully he needs a wee or something, anything, to get him out of the conversation and get him to a place where he can close his eyes, when Mully stops mid-sentence to say something else. It's a tone of voice Niall would recognize anywhere.

'Hey, Boynie! Where's Mia?' A smile stretches across Mully's face as he looks over Niall's shoulder, waving. When Niall turns around he smiles too and, for a second, he feels his exhaustion dissipating. It's hard to imagine there could ever be a better sight than Isla walking toward him, even when everything else has gone to shit.

'I just got here. Haven't seen her yet,' Isla sounds a little out of breath as she reaches them, immediately leaning in to Niall for a kiss. She smells sweet, strawberries and coconut and the familiar scent of her fresh laundry, and Niall cups her face to drag the kiss out for a second longer, to keep her close. He waits for Mully to say 'ew' before he pulls away, giving Isla a private wink as he does.

'Have you two read the paper this morning?' Isla asks, and, for the first time in his life, Niall looks at her like she's crazy. Across from him, Mully does the same.

'Why the fuck would we have done that?' Mully asks. Niall almost tells him off for his tone, but Isla's talking again before he gets the chance.

'It is good for you to keep up with current affairs, you know, Sean. Anyway, my da left it out on the kitchen table this morning, and I saw it while I was packing my rucksack,' she reaches into her bag to fish out a copy of The Irish Times, folded over to the right page. 'Look, Niall.'

Together, he and Mully lean over the paper.

It takes Niall's tired eyes a little longer than it should to focus, but his heartbeat immediately picks up once they do. Isla's circled the bit she wants him to see but he would've spotted it from a mile off, anyway, the headline: THE X FACTOR TO HOST FIRST-EVER IRISH AUDITIONS AT CROKE PARK THIS MONTH.

'Sick,' says Mully, while Niall is still reeling. 'Do you think we'll see Katy Perry in town?'

'Niall,' Isla ignores Mully, reaching out to touch Niall's arm. 'You should audition.'

'Oh my God, yeah,' Mully catches on, eyes blowing wide. 'You totally should, mate. That would be sick.'

'I dunno...' Niall's too tired to think about this, too exhausted to unpack every possibility. His head is all over the place and he tries to focus on Isla, on her hand on his bicep, her eyes on his own.

'I read the whole thing,' she's saying, because of course she did. She has all the information, all the answers, everything Niall needs, because that's what Isla does. That's who Isla is. She glanced at the newspaper on the kitchen table this morning and read a headline and she thought about Niall first thing, because that's the kind of person she is. She picked up the newspaper, read the whole stupid article, circled the bits she wanted Niall to look at, and packed it safely in her bag for him, because that's the kind of person she is. And when she got here this morning she came straight to Niall to tell him, instead of meeting up with Emilia like she does most mornings, because that's the kind of person Isla is. She's more than Niall will ever deserve. 'It says you have to have three songs prepared for the judges. You're so brilliant, Niall, and if you pick three songs now you have two whole weeks to practice them until they're totally perfect.'

'You should do Wonderwall,' says Mully. Isla's still ignoring him.

'Isla,' Niall cards a hand through his hair, anxiety bubbling over in his stomach. 'There'll be a million people auditioning for this.'

'Make it a million and one, then,' she says. She touches his elbow and tugs gently, until Niall drops his hand to grab hers. 'I really think you should give it a go. What's the worst that could happen?'

'Famous last words, them.'

'Sean,' Isla turns around quickly, 'can you go bother someone else?'

'This is my locker, actually, Boyne.'

'Fuck's sake,' Isla turns back to Niall, rolling her eyes, biting back a smile, and Niall feels one growing on his face too. He feels like he's waking up—to the day, and to Isla's idea. Worst case scenario, they tell him no, and no one ever has to know it happened. But the best case scenario? Niall thinks about concerts at Croke Park, about Isla by his side as they walk a red carpet. Suddenly, his stomach swoops over itself in excitement and he can't even think about it, can't let himself get carried away.

But he can't not try, either.