Niall Horan Imagines

Happy Ending

*Niall's POV*

I groaned in frustration as the shouting voices next door grew louder. Do people have any respect for their neighbors anymore?!  I dropped my pencil on the flat surface of my desktop and pushed myself to my feet, angrily storming toward the window. I wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I had an important essay due the next day, and with all the noise next door, I couldn't focus long enough to even get a good start. The curtains covering my window were shut, because for some reason, I figured that shutting them might drown out some of the noise, which had now been going on for nearly two hours. I opened the curtains by just a sliver and peeked out at the house next door. My bedroom window faced the bedroom window of the girl next door. I didn't know much about her, as I'd only ever seen her on a few occasions - coming home while she was going out, or if we ended up checking the mail at the same time. She never said more than a few words each time, but she always flashed her smile at me before excusing herself. But I knew enough about her to be concerned about her. She had a somewhat dysfunctional family. Living next door, I either heard or saw every single fight that went down in that house. And, believe me, there were a quite a few of them. She seemed alright with her mom, but I'd seen her argue with her dad on countless occasions. I'd seen her shout at him and then walk out to let off some steam. I'd seen her parents fighting, too. Sometimes I'd catch the shadow of a dish being chucked across the room, followed by the shattering sound it made once it crashed to the floor. 

So it was no surprise to me, this time, when I peeked out and saw her arguing with someone. She tossed her hands in the air and I watched her mouth move as she shouted an insult at the young guy in front of her. It was a guy I didn't recognize. Certainly wasn't her father. I watched as he simply shook his head at her and turned away from her. She crossed her arms over her chest and she was silent while the guy got his jab at her. His rant went on for quite some time before it must have escalated again. Because after that, he whipped around and slapped his hand across her face, causing her to stumble back a bit. She held her face, breathing heavily, while the guy continued to rage at her. I saw her eyes avert in my direction for only a second, and she must have seen me watching, because she did a double-take, and this time, stared at me for more than a second. It was the look in her eyes, the pain in them, that broke me apart. She looked desperate. She almost had a pleading expression on her face, as if begging for my help. I quickly pushed the curtains together again, blocking my view of her. I didn't want to see any more. I already felt stupid for getting caught.

I slumped back into my chair and lifted my pencil again, letting out a sigh as I stared at the blank piece of loose leaf paper in front of me. I couldn't even remember what I was supposed to be writing about anymore. I had this image of her pained face stamped in my mind. And I couldn't shake it away. The noise died down rather quickly, and the last thing I heard was the slamming of her front door. I rushed to my widow and peeked out again, to see that the guy had left. I watched him shove himself into his car and slam the door before taking off at an angry speed. Closing the curtains again, I grabbed my keys from my desk and made my way next door. 

The knock I left on her door was quiet and weak sounding. I cleared my throat and extended my hand to land a heavier knock on the wooden door, hoping she'd hear it this time. Although, I wasn't really sure who would answer the door. I was praying to the lord above that neither of her parents would answer, because I had no idea how I'd explain myself. It was a relief when the door hesitantly opened and her tear-stained face peered out from behind it. "Can I - can I help you?" She asked in a cracked, dry voice. It was like she was trying to hide the fact that she knew what I'd just seen.