Hot Mess | N.H. (discontinued)

f i v e [ 5 ]

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Hot Mess:

c h a p t e r : f i v e [ 5 ]

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Niall Horan (@NiallOfficial) via Twitter: "So many lazy and shit rumours flying around! get a grip !"

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Niall

My finger absentmindedly slams down onto the Tweet button and my angry thoughts get sent out to basically everyone—hopefully the writer is able to get the message—almost instantaneously getting much feedback.

Ignoring it all, as well as the occasional hate-comments, I lock my phone and shove it deep down into the pocket of my jeans. Trudging towards the front door, I randomly grab one of my jackets hanging behind it and call out, "I am going out for a bit."

"Niall," I hear my mum's soft voice say just as my hand is twisting the door knob. Sighing, I turn around and find her standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Yeah?" I ask, fixing the hood of my army-green jacket whilst getting slightly fidgety and impatient.

"Where are you going?" she questions me, resting a dish towel between her forearm and upper arm with a slightly worried expression on her face. It seems as if she was actually worried about me right now; like she doesn't trust me.

"Out," I reply flatly, not having the patience right now to deal with anyone.

"Where?"

"Jesus, mum—just out," I growl, my nose scrunching in anger. I know I shouldn't be one to yell at my mum; I can't even count on my fingers and toes everything she's done for me. But today just isn't my day, and any form of sociableness isn't making it any better for me.

She looks somewhat gobsmacked by my sudden outburst, but I couldn't blame her. I would be, too, if my son had suddenly snapped.

But it's not like it's anything new to them, either.

The night I had got here I had been in an extremely pissed-off mood. In fact, when my father had come in my room where I was sheltered under the covers of my bed, I had practically screamed at him for a good five minutes.

Needless to say, I have not been in the best mood these past few days.

"Niall," my mum breathes out, taking a few slow steps in my direction, "are you alright, son?"

I let out a shaky breathe and run a hand through my tangled mess of hair. "Yes, mum, I'm fine," I reassure her, reaching toward and planting a small kiss on her cheek. She smiles slightly at my sincere gesture, but I can easily tell that that's not enough to convince her by the look on her face.

"You sure? 'Cause you never even told us why you're here in the first place, and it must be something big 'cause you weren't supposed to be here for a few more months and your all over the magazines and—"

"Yes, mum, I am just fine," I repeat, cutting her off and placing my hands gently on her shoulders. "I am just going out for some fresh air, is all." She opens her mouth to speak before hesitating, shutting it closed, let's out a deep breathe, then nods her head.

"You're right," she replies. "I mean, I shouldn't be worried about my lovely boy who's traveled all the way across the world before."

Smiling, I nod my head in response at her attempt to lighten the mood. "I will be back in an hour or so—and if anyone calls asking for me, just tell then I'm not here. Better yet, don't even answer the phone until I get back."