My story was neither a comedy, nor a tragedy. It is simply one that involved him. Seems cliché, doesn’t it? A boy and a girl who fall in love and have either two ways out: Number one; stay together and love each other or Number two; unwillingly separate due to unfavourable conditions. Typical. Mine, was a mixture of one and two, sprinkled with pixie dust and fame. It was one of compassion, benevolence, attachment, greed, selfishness and dignity- one that left me craving for more.
I was insecure. It was rather obvious that he deserved everything he had- the fans, the faith, the love- he was truly overwhelming. He loved me, and he made it a point to make sure I was fully aware of that. Of course, I loved him too. I had loved him for years, much before he was on the verge of fame- even before he had auditioned. Niall James Horan.
He was my man. He was my man. He was my man. Looking at it now, I can barely decide where I would stress more; the ‘he’, ‘was’ or ‘my’. The memories of us are faint, just as thin as our friendship now. He was famous, and I was not. Differences, decisions and misunderstandings. “Babe, don’t let them get to you. You were and will always be above them. You, my love, are incomparable.” He’d say to me in his beautiful Irish accent as he caressed my cheek, and I would simply flash him a small smile.
I tried. I really did. It was hard enough with the girls stealing his attention and adding to it was forcing me to love someone I had forgotten how to love.
* * *
“Niall, I love you. I do. But you have to understand how miserable I feel when I wait all day for a comforting hug and I’m greeted by a call saying you can’t make it. I get it, you want this. You want to win X Factor, and you can do it. That, I am sure of. What I am not sure of, is us. I’d be the worst girlfriend if I left you hanging just when you need me the most. But please understand, Niall. I honestly can’t take it anymore-” I mumbled as I saw the shocked look on his face through my blurred vision, trying to hold back my tears. To my utter astonishment, tears overflowed from my eyes without warning, gushing down my pale face. I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight embrace, sobbing into his shoulder. I then pulled back for a second to look with tear-filled eyes at Niall’s anxious face, dim in the darkness. His eyes radiated confusion and unreasonable grief.
“Listen to me, babe.” He said in an almost inaudible whisper as he gripped me tightly. Niall ached from inside, I could tell. I felt his muscles tighten as he held me in his grasp. “No, Niall. Let me finish. We shouldn’t do this anymore. You and I have been together for years; I don’t want to be a distraction. Pursue your dream, babe. Do what you love. Henceforth I will never come your way, or tell you what is right and what is not. Go out there, show them who Niall Horan is and live your life. I’m sorry babe, but we’re over...” I finished, unable to contain the sob that broke in my voice.
That was definitely the most abrupt ending to our lives that had intertwined so beautifully together.
It wasn’t easy freeing myself from the one part that had defined me- Niall’s arms. It wasn’t easy letting go of the one I loved, but it was to be done in order for us to lead our own lives. It took me just about a minute to disappear from his sight; my heart pounding against my petite chest as I constantly flipped my head to notice if he was following me. He stood idle in the same position, refusing to look away from the confines of the floor. Niall looked so breakable- so fragile. I urged to run back and bury my face in his chest but I knew it was impossible. I had to be strong, for the both of us.
‘No, Iris.’ I told myself as each second that ticked felt like eternity. I walked away, my feet giving up with every step as left my most prized possession behind…as I left my Niall behind.
* * *
Years had gone by and I was still the same: one afraid to change. Niall and I lost contact, and I didn’t blame him for not trying. It was my fault he was infuriated. It was my fault he was heartbroken. In all honestly, I don’t regret leaving. He is now a sensation- girls from every continent would faint if he’d pecked a simple kiss on their cheek. Whereas, I would die even if he wasn’t as famous as he is today. In a way, I’m glad I left. He achieved everything he ever dreamed of; everything he deserved. Niall James Horan was an established singer and I wouldn’t want to seem selfish saying this, but I think I might have played a minute role.