Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

08 | demons

❝Don't get too close, it's dark inside; it's where my demons hide.❞ ▬ Demons, Imagine Dragons.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sometimes, in life, it's important -- and necessary, really, if you want to keep from going insane -- to take a step back and simply breathe, saving a few minutes to decide whether something's really worth worrying about. A lot of the time, you'll surprise yourself: what may seem like a huge dilemma will often turn out to be irrelevant; any problem you may have now is unlikely to affect your future or general happiness in five or ten years time. 

Obviously, when my father died, I knew instantly that my whole world had changed for the worse. I didn't even have to think about it; I knew immediately that, because of that deadly knife, ripping through his skin and puncturing his heart, my whole future would turn out differently to how I'd originally pictured it. For example, I no longer had visions of my father walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, ready to give me away to the man of my dreams. Instead, all I saw was darkness.

As Harry and Niall compete over who can down a pint of beer the quickest -- my bet's on the latter -- I wonder if the small factor of how Harry and I know each other is really worth fretting over. I eventually decide on no. After all, Harry hasn't even mentioned it, and I sure won't. As far as Niall's concerned, nothing ever happened. 

Besides, even if Harry did bring it up, would it even make a difference to the present? It happened two whole years ago. We were different people back then. Besides, it was meaningless. I hadn't developed feelings for Harry; I was drunk and emotional, and sex makes you feel desired, if only for a short while. That's all I wanted: to feel desired and wanted and loved. 

I guess, the truth is, I don't want Niall to think I have feelings for Harry. Because, really, I have feelings for him. 

I watch him now as he slams his pint glass to the table, using the back of his hand to wipe excess liquid from the area surrounding his mouth. His chapped lips are curved into a grin, his eyes half-closed because he's smiling so wide, laughter pouring from his mouth as he cheers and shouts in victory. "I am the champion!" He yells in that Irish accent I've grown to love.

Seconds later, the blonde waitress I saw earlier appears at our table. At first, I think she's going to tell us -- well, Niall, specifically -- to try and be a bit more quiet. Instead, she flashes the Irish lad a grin, and says in an accent to match his, "Hi there!"

"Um, hey," Niall says, smiling.

"I couldn't help but notice your accent," the woman says, and that's when I realise that she's holding a piece of paper. "You know, we're looking for more young, Irish people to work here. Are you currently searching for a job?" 

Both Harry and I turn to Niall, and he glances my way as if seeking advice. I nod, grinning, and mouth, go for it! Niall beams and turns back to the waitress. "I am, actually," he says nonchalantly.  

"Well, if you're interested, here's a form you can fill out to apply for an interview." She hands him the piece of paper. "Good luck," she says, flashing us all a pearly grin and walking off, her blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders. 

Niall's jaw drops. "Woah. Did that really just happen?" He asks in disbelief, staring at the form in his hands. 

"I reckon she fancies you, mate," Harry says, and this annoys me somewhat. 

"Nah," Niall shrugs. "She looks like she's in her late twenties."

"That wouldn't stop me," Harry replies with a wink.