Belong To The World

~ FIFTEEN ~

| C R U S H E D |

Niall was used to the hungover feeling, days upon days of endless drinking, the alcohol was nothing to his immune system, only a slight buzz through his body.

He learned to not stumble, able to walk in a straight, clean line down the sidewalk, he tried to keep his eyes trained in front of him, his body stiff from trying desperately not to shake, but nothing was working the way he wanted to, not with the nagging, disgusting feeling at the back of his head.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he repeated to himself in his head, how could he do this? Just slip back into his past self once again? So naive, so stupid, so slutty.

At the words he used against himself, he shook his head, blinking his eyes rapidly, he looked like a maniac, he was happy no one was walking this early in the morning.

He saw the apartment, carefully walking up the steps, not before looking across the road, to where the run-down hotel was, where the three other ex-boyfriends rested. He was tempted to walk over there, rush into the hotel room, he still memorized where it was. He could easily bombard into the room, yell at them, taunt them by saying how Harry fucked him, cheated on them.

But no, the number one priority was getting out of this city, country, continent. He couldn't live anywhere near this place, England was a big ball of bad memories.

But Nick, he would be the hardest, to sneak out without the man noticing, he would probably be urged to know the money Niall collected last night, and Niall couldn't imagine the rage that he will be staring at if Nick found out he didn't do his job, plus, moving out.

His pace went a little more faster as he went up the steps, his heart beat bumping heavily against his chest, sweat was slowly forming at his forehead, down his back, he needed out, even if he just grabbed a couple clothes and enough money to last him a week, he just needed to go away. This was his past now, too painful.

He couldn't stand more pain, but he knew, he did this to himself. Stupid.

He got to the door, shakily twisting the knob and opening it, only Nick had a key, but it really didn't matter, no one ever locked it, and there was nothing valuable in the apartment, just a floor filled with beer bottles, beer stains, and forgotten cigarette buds.

He slowly walked through the apartment, carefully stepping over beer cans, almost slipping on a powdery substance, which was probably cocaine.

He got to the bedroom, wincing at the creek of the door, but he sighed in relief, a weight lifted from his lungs as he saw the bed empty, he felt it, cold. Nick probably went out for the night, and hadn't come back.

He took advantage of that, rushing around the bedroom, grabbing a duffle bag, and just stuffing shirts and pants and underwear in it, his makeup, and nude concealer for the bruises that still stained his pale skin.

Tears were running down his cheeks as he zipped up his bag, grabbing a bottle of wine and stuffing it into his bag also, and then a pack of cigarettes only half full. But he'll get more.

The money was easy to find, hidden in a secret part at the bottom of the dresser drawer, he grabbed five hundred pounds and stuffing it into the side of his bag, quickly closing it and rushing down the hallway, he was fine, he was leaving.

-x-x-x-

Walking down the street, he grabbed a cigarette from his bag, lighting it with the lighter that was in the back of his pocket and smoking it happily. It calmed him down, after the stressful night and morning, he needed time to wind down, and find out where he'll be going.