Chapter IV part III; its you, part II

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Niall wandered around in the big hospital, this was were he needed to be, right? 
The same patterns was spread over the floor of the in tire hospital, so Niall couldn't tell if he had been there before and that was what got him lost. 
He was looking for the section 'addictions' , and could't believe it actually gotten to that point, he could remember how he strongly disagreed when he was told to. 

A bottle in his hand to drown his sorrow, Niall gulped the liquid down greedily as he just wanted to forget and drown in the burn. So he did, and before he knew he drank down three bottles, four and even five. It wouldn't stop, the smell was surrounding him as he fell to the ground, sitting there wrecked sobs coming from his numb lips (what you could call sobs, they were more like whining notes.) as he was nearly passing out, his head spinning with pictures of Sophia when suddenly the door burst open, the light blinded him as he groaned, his numb arms trying to get it away as he sniffled. 
'Niall!' Paul had screamed, and Niall recognized the voice but his mind didn't made the link as his hoarse voice shouted 'Get away!' 
Shocked was a understatement for Paul, because the boy he hoped would change in his months in Wolverhampton turned out to be crying on the floor, multiply bottles next to him. Something had wrecked him, something Paul had been afraid of. God, why did they leave him alone? That must have been the stupidest thing in history, as Paul got on his level and looked into his eyes he was sure, something was gone. 

That was how Niall ended up in this hospital, after Paul had put him in bed to sleep he panicked, he wanted to kick the in tire modest department for doing this to Niall, he almost cried when he remembered how innocent and happy Niall used to be. Now he was tripping over clothes and beer bottles, and that was a sign of that Niall gotten to the point of not even caring about either his looks and/or health anymore. 
Paul felt, for the first time in forever, out of control of something, because he always used to have control and was good at taking it, even when Harry and Zayn were cycling backstage three minutes before they had to go, he got it under control. He would lift (feather light) Zayn up over his shoulder, and Harry would follow  because he was scared by Paul easily, Niall would chuckle and shake his head, walking behind the three of them as he let his smile drop secretly, no one could see that. 
Afterwards, Paul could see everything, it clicked. The way Niall always only had fun when he had a girl with him, and how he lost it all when he woke up in the morning. His single bed (They had checked his bed after he left looking for anything...Unusual.), his books full with poems.
It now was so easy for him to recognize that Niall was gay, and it was so wrong that he hid it for himself. He was to scared to admit it to himself for sure, but Paul was determined that out there their was a boy that was right for him. 

Niall was going the right way for sure now, because the signs obviously started saying he was going the right way (Therapy), where after he realized he wasn't near done yet.
There were loads of different ways of therapy, loads of reasons to go there too.
He had been at therapy before, and remembered those uncomfortable stools which where leaned back in such way that when you sat down your were practically laying.
The flowers that may or may not have been fake, a model of a brain (Niall was stunned and scared for anyone who knew all those names out of his head.) , a book that seemed to be as heavy as Niall was, the awkward shoe's squeaking on the wood floor. 
That was all Niall remembered actually, because he somehow the liquid blurred away everything he said, just the way he liked it. 
Anyways, their where loads of reasons to be in therapy, some were worst then others, like being raped and giving your trust to someone who trows it away, Niall thought that was way worse then the fact he was scared of being alone.
Niall didn't deserved to be here, these others did.  

His feet were getting cramped by the amount of walking he did on these shoes, and if he could choose he wouldn't be walking at all. 
He picked up pace through, the way he was.
Such a stubborn person that he would deny what his body felt. If he would get trough these couple steps his feet would do the rest for sure, through. 
He remembered he and his aunt always used to walk with her dogs, two brown once's that were twins. And they used to walk past the river, and Niall would run to the surface and tried to fish the hats floating in there out of the water, his aunt saying 'cmon silly!' and Niall would giggle and run back to her, as they walked for hours.
As his feet would begin to hurt, she would sing a song to him 'so its going good, that way its going better, another kilometre!' 
From then on, he always murmured that to himself when he was walking, as he was now. 

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