Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

05 | summer's in the air

❝Red, white, blue is in the sky, summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes.❞ ▬ National Anthem, Lana Del Rey.

CHAPTER FIVE

I toss and turn for the first half of the night, but eventually fall into a dream-filled sleep. At first I'm looking into my father's eyes, but then I blink and realise that they're not his eyes at all; they're Niall's, and he's smiling and telling me that everything's okay. I know deep down that it's not okay, but hearing him say it in that accent of his, which is even more beautiful in my dreams, reassures me somewhat.

I wake feeling fresh and content. I made it through yesterday, the worst day of the year. I didn't cut and I didn't kill myself (though I came close), and that fact makes me feel strong. If I can make it through the anniversary of my father's death, I can easily make it through the rest of the year. I just have to keep pushing forward.

Life, I find, is like taking a long walk. Sometimes it rains and you don't have an umbrella with you. Sometimes, you get tired and feel like sitting down for a while. Sometimes you want to stop altogether because you have no idea where you're headed. And sometimes, you realise that you have to keep on going no matter what, because you're bound to end up somewhere beautiful -- or at least somewhere different.

In realising all of this, I have acquired a newfound purpose. A purpose to live. I know that this may wear off soon, and even the slightest memory of my father or sad song leaping into my head may lead to me throwing this whole positive attitude away, but for now, I'm okay. I repeat the words over and over in my head, liking the way they feel: I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay.

I shrug on my dressing gown, pull up my knee-length socks, and poke my head around Mum's bedroom door. To my surprise, she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe she woke with the same optimism as me and decided to get out of bed and set off for work without the aid of her teenage daughter. If this is the case, I'm proud of her.

I take a long shower, scrubbing my scarred body all over, wincing multiple times but determinedly fighting through the pain. I wash my hair with a gorgeous strawberry shampoo and let hot water dribble down my face; it drops onto the wet floor beneath my feet and I like the sound it makes. I even shave, taking great care with my legs, ignoring the fact that the razor contains a blade similar to the one I use to self-harm.

I dry myself off and dress in clean clothes. I refrain from putting on my cutest dress and settle instead for black skin-tight jeans, a slouchy white vest, and my favourite denim jacket. After all, tonight isn't a date. Just an outing with a new friend.

Wanting to look my best for Niall (because I've already decided that I have a crush on him, even if I'd rather not admit it), I pluck my eyebrows, blow-dry my hair, and straighten it. In terms of make-up, I go for a natural look. Nonetheless, by the time I'm finished, it's twelve o'clock. Seven hours to go.

I guess you could say that I'm a typical girl. Sadness never changed that about me. I never wanted to shut people out; it just happened, and I ended up alone. However, that doesn't change the fact that the thought of going on a date -- okay, an outing -- with Niall makes my heart flutter. Maybe I'm so excited because I've been alone for so long. Or maybe it's just because it's Niall.

I pull my phone from the pocket of my jeans and check the time. 12.03. Six hours and fifty-seven minutes before I'm scheduled to meet Niall. I guess I have some time to kill.

●

Slowly, the day slips by. I decide against a trip to the cemetery; after last night's discussion, it would feel all wrong. Instead, I spend my time engaging in other activities: I bake cookies for Mum to apologise for my request last night; I make a playlist full of songs that solely remind me of Niall's eyes; I go for a long walk through the city streets; I drag a brush through my hair a hundred times until the drag becomes an effortless movement of the arm; I dance around my bedroom to the latest Arctic Monkeys album; I close my eyes and think about things. And, before long, the time is half-six.