For the First Time | n.h.

Chapter Thirty-Five

I don’t like goodbyes. I never have. Then again, does anyone actually enjoy saying goodbye to someone they love? Even if it is only for a few days—or hours—it’s hard. The only thing that keeps you going is the understanding that you’ll see them again tomorrow, or after work. But saying goodbye to Niall was different. It was like waking up, saying goodbye, and having no idea what time he was getting off of work; it could be tonight or tomorrow or maybe next week. That’s what scared me; the not knowing. What if another year scurried by before I saw the boy’s face again? What on earth would I do until then?

                It did clue in to me, eventually, that Niall did not formulate my being. He was a part of me, like a link or a puzzle piece, but I convinced myself that he was not as essential as air or water or the necessities of life. He was a luxury that I was fortunate enough to experience, and a curse that I had welcomed to poison my life.

                I didn’t know what to do about Niall, so I said goodbye.

                I didn’t give him my number or address and he didn’t ask. He helped me pack my belongings into that overcrowded suitcase and lugged it down the stairs. There was time to spare, however, and he took my hand in his and led me to his room. I followed like a curious puppy and watched the blonde boy crawl onto his bed and collapse like he had just had the longest day of his life. My body was quickly next to his in my allotted space. Blue eyes met green in a stare so intense I thought maybe the colours would mix with each other and create a new colour, unique on its own.

                Callused fingers smoothed red hair from my face and traced across my temple before, ultimately, dropping in the distance between us. I held Niall’s hand then; he was warm and soft just like I remembered him being and I wouldn’t have traded a single second of being with him for any number of days on my own. We stayed like that for a long while before it was time for me to go home.

                Home is a relative word, I realized; one that was often casually thrust upon a singular section of land that, really, belongs to no one, in the end. I wondered if it really was as easy as owning something. Just because something was yours, did it truly make it special? But there was a difference between something belonging to you and something being yours. When something, or someone, is finally yours, they have a little piece of your heart reserved solely for them. You don’t make room in your heart for a simple belonging, you make room for what matters.

                The point of this thinking was that, whether Niall was mine or not, I had reserved a space for him. No one else could fill it, no matter how hard they tried. I could ignore it the way I had been for the past year, but that didn’t make the empty space go away. It yearned to be filled and finally ridden of this wretched emptiness it had been suffering from for so long now...

                I suppose it would have to learn to adjust.

*

It was nearing eleven p.m. when I finally walked through the door of my tiny, crammed apartment. I was aware of the presence waiting for me before I even saw him or heard him speak for that matter. Tyler had texted me at least five times on the drive home, simply to ask where I was at that exact moment in time. I answered him twice before giving up on the idea and giving the typical excuse of my phone dying. I appreciated the attempt of concern, but it was simply unnecessary. I wasn’t feeling particularly...attached to Tyler on the drive home, or when I walked into my apartment for that matter.

                “Megan,” he said excitedly, big brown eyes and pink lips smiling, “You’re finally home.”

                I grinned half-heartedly, “Finally.”