Something About You

Isla's POV - April, 2015.

Isla is already awake when her phone rings.

It's four in the morning and she's staring at the ceiling while Jack sleeps soundlessly next to her, his chest rising and falling in a relaxed rhythm, quiet, gentle mumbles occasionally falling from his lips as he dreams. He's like a dream come true next to her: a gentle giant, warm, soft, one arm open across the mattress for her to cuddle into. She should do exactly that, she knows: turn into his warmth and shut her eyes and never look back, let him carry her into the future the way he wants to, let him protect her, provide for her, keep her away from anything that could ever hurt her.

But her phone is ringing. And the image on the caller ID is enough of a stab in the chest for Isla to know that there's at least one thing no one can keep her away from.

'Niall?' She answers, sliding out of bed gently, so as not to wake Jack. 'Are you okay? What's going on?'

It's a second before Niall answers, his voice slightly slurred. 'Happy birthday,' he tells her, and Isla feels a pang of annoyance, swift and irrepressible.

'My birthday is in January,' as quietly as she can, Isla opens the bedroom door and lets herself out into the rest of the flat. 'It's April.'

As Isla pads toward the kitchen in the dark, one hand out against the wall so she doesn't bump into anything, Niall carries on. 'Yeah, well, I didn't call you then so I figured I'd tell you now.'

For just a second, Isla leans back against the kitchen counter, squeezes her eyes shut, and tries not to cry. As if she needed a reminder that he'd forgotten her birthday. Deep breath in, deep breath out, she opens her eyes and runs the kettle under the faucet. 'Are you drunk?'

'A bit,' a pause, wherever Niall is. 'A lot.'

Without trying to hide her annoyance, Isla says, 'I can tell,' and flips on the electric kettle. 'Thank you for the birthday wishes,' she shuts her eyes and leans back against the counter again. She doesn't want to say it. 'But we probably shouldn't be doing this.'

'Why not?' Isla can hear bed sheets rustling on Niall's side of the world. It makes her chest ache for something she hasn't had in so long.

'Well,' Isla pushes herself up off the counter and does a lap around her kitchen, trying to ward off the jealousy stirring in her stomach. 'For starters, it's four in the morning in London. And,' she carries on, unable to stop herself as the rest of the sentence forces its way out of her throat, 'and my boyfriend is sleeping, so.'

There's a pause on Niall's end, long enough for Isla to start pacing again. The knot in her stomach worms its way up to her throat while she waits and walks, her skin prickling with sweat, her heartbeat picking up. It's ridiculous, she tries to tell herself, the way he still gets to her like this.

'Right,' Niall says finally, his voice slurring a little. 'Sorry to wake him.'

'It's not like that,' Isla shakes her head, as if Niall can see her, then sighs. 'Sorry I said it like that. That was shitty of me.'

'S'alright,' Niall is so, so far away. 'You're not wrong.'

'Where are you?' Isla asks, desperate for the conversation to carry on. She doesn't want to let him go just yet. 'You sound a mess, are you somewhere safe?'

'Yeah, Dubai. I'm in my hotel room.'

The kettle clicks off, and as she pours herself a single mug of tea Isla does the math quickly in her head, despite the exhaustion fogging her brain. 'Is it not, like, seven in the morning in Dubai? Why are you drunk at seven in the morning?'

On the other side of the world, Niall yawns. His voice is thick and sleepy when he answers, 'Not gone to sleep yet. Went out last night.'

In London, in the middle of the night, Isla pads over to her couch and curls in on herself, warm mug pressed against her chest. Still, she feels cold. 'It was a good night, then?' She asks Niall, watching the steam from her tea curl and dissipate into the dark of her flat.