In Other Words (Niall Fanfic)

Chapter Sixty-Three

Niall’s POV

The ball hit against the side of the garage with a thud and bounced off, flying over my head. I pushed off the balls of my feet, the spikes of my boots digging into the sod as I ran after it. The air was as damp as the soil, the weather having finally broke.  Eventually I’d need to see about having someone come out and put a proper pitch in, but for now I kicked the ball around the uneven grass, using the fence line to gauge distance.

 I tugged the sleeves of my long shirt back down over my forearms as I jogged, my breathing heavier than it ought to be, probably due to being cooped up inside all fucking winter.  Although, it was a particularly good winter to be cooped up. It was going to really be something to be able to come straight out my front door and have the room to mess about, maybe even organize a match or two with the lads. It’s now that I realize how much I had missed the openness; the few years spent in my flat offering no such amenity.

I’ll be needing a landscaper though; I’ve got no patience for that sort of thing.  I needed to remember to scour the listings. Or even better, find out who Louis uses; that’d be less leg-work.

The sun poked through the heavy clouds, warming the back of my neck just slightly as I slowed the ball with my heel and popped it up, bouncing it atop my knee as I looked back at the house. She was in there, missing out on the sounds of birds in the nearby trees, missing out on seeing the first hints of green in the grass we had only known to be brown, or snow-covered.

It had been four days since she lost her job. She shuffled through the door that evening, shoulders slumped, but having kept herself together to finish out the day, enduring the car ride home and finally letting go as she sat down beside me on the couch. The tears began to fall and I tucked her against my chest, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.

 I was used to failure. I knew how to bounce back from it. Roxy had never failed at a single thing in her whole life. The things that she did, she did well. The things she did not, she wouldn’t attempt.

Obviously, I suspected something had been going on at work, since she’d been spending long hours and coming home completely exhausted.  But, she never wanted to talk about it, and I didn’t press her. Even on the weekends, she seemed a little distant, as if her brain were still on the clock; searching.  Now I know that her company had been outbid, the entire staff having to pack up their offices and turn in their keys. 

We stayed there on that couch, and I was silent for hours, listening to her as she talked, and as she didn’t talk. Her dress was terribly creased and my shirt was stained from her mascara. I knew I would be giving a pep talk at some point, but not then.  She eventually cried herself to sleep, and I carefully arranged our bodies on the cushions, tucking the blanket underneath my leg so it would serve as a sort of net to keep us from slipping off as we slept there until morning.

I tucked the ball back under my arm and headed back toward the house, kicking my muddy boots off on the porch and tossing the ball on one of the wrought iron chairs before heading inside. The door clicked closed behind me, and I caught a look at myself in the mirror over the table, my cheeks flush from a mix of the chilled air and my elevated heart rate.  My nose was running a bit, and I swiped at it with the back of my sleeve before heading into the living room toward the sound of the tele.

She was curled up in the chair, still wearing yesterday’s outfit of choice: my old purple hoodie and a pair of my joggers. Her body was swimming in them, and I wondered if she was even wearing any underwear.  To be honest, she looked a mess. Her hair was piled on top of her head, but slipping off to one side. Her fingernail polish had been picked and peeled, the jagged ends on display as she gripped the remote and pressed the up button, the channels flipping so rapidly that there was no way she could even be trying to select one to stay on.