Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

19 | niall horan's twisted past

❝In the dark of this place, there's the glow of your face, there's the dust on the screen, of this broken machine.❞ ▬ Ya Hey, Vampire Weekend.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The next few moments are an absolute blur. I leap upwards -- which is difficult, as I'm still sitting cross-legged on the floor -- just as Niall collapses in my direction; thankfully, I manage to catch him, but his weight causes me to stumble back onto the picnic blanket. In doing so, I bump into Liam and cause him to drop his freshly poured cup of Pepsi, which spills down his shirt in a fizzy brown mess. "Agh, fuck!" Niall shouts meanwhile, hand stretched across his eye as he steadies himself; I help him to do so by pushing him forwards, unable to hold his weight despite the fact that he's the skinniest and therefore lightest teenager I know (I've always been a bit on the weak side, I guess). Harry, ever the cool-and-collected kind of guy, absolutely loses it; he begins to curse, getting to his feet and stepping over Niall to give the guy a shove, spitting "What the hell did you do that for?" in his face.

I barely catch a glimspe of Tyler's response. I'm too focused on Niall. Luckily, he isn't bleeding; the punch was clearly aimed at his nose, but his eye was hit instead -- drunken people have shitty aim, I guess -- and now it's simply a little watery. "Are you okay?" I ask Niall as he blinks, rubbing his eye. He nods, breathless, looking up at me. From upside down, because his head is in my lap, I can see the tears in his eyes. And I don't blame him -- for all I know, he's done nothing wrong. He didn't deserve this. 

After being one-hundred percent certain that he's alright, and that the punch hasn't rendered him blind in his right eye, I turn to watch as Harry yells at the attacker. Tyler ignores him; he locks his gaze on Niall, and without really thinking about what I'm doing, I get up and step between them. "Don't you dare touch him again," I say, hearing Niall quickly stumble to his feet behind me. 

"What are you gonna do about it?" The boy slurs. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, utterly careless. "Dumb bitch." And with that, he puffs the smoke in my direction. It goes past my gritted teeth and fills my lungs, but I manage not to choke. 

Niall steps forward, clenching his fists. "Say one more word about her, and you won't be the only one throwing punches." Surprisingly calm, he plucks the cigarette from the guy's mouth and drops it on the floor, stamping it beneath his foot. "You know, you shouldn't smoke." 

The boy laughs. "You think I'm gonna take advice from you? You're a piece of shit, you know that? You stole my place in the band. It should've been me up there, not you. You can't even sing. You're worthless," he spits. 

Niall stares at him, frowning. Slowly, he folds his arms across his chest, doing that familiar thing where he tucks his fingers beneath each armpit. He once told me that singing and playing guitar is the only thing he's any good at; this insult is the ultimate knock to his confidence. 

But here's the thing: he doesn't seem to care. That's one of the things I've grown to love about Niall: he doesn't let the small stuff affect him. I wish I had such a carefree attitude; the rude boy's 'dumb bitch' comment has put a lump in my throat, despite everything. I guess old habits -- like being extremely insecure about the way I'm perceived -- die hard. 

"Tyler," Harry interjects, "you were already out of the band. I mean, sure, I knew I had Niall as a back-up option, and so obviously he influenced my decision to kick you out, but no matter what, you were never going to perform in the competition. Never. I wouldn't allow it." 

Tyler grits his teeth in a truly terrifying -- not -- scowl. "Who even is this guy? Someone you dragged off the street?" 

"He's a good friend of mine," Harry informs him.