Little Peanut (Niall)

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No. This can’t be happening. This isn’t supposed to happen. I was lying on the bathroom floor, counting backwards in my head and trying not to freak out and throw up again.

                “(y/n)?” Niall called through the door before knocking.

                “I’ll be out in a minute,” I said weakly.

                “You okay?” he asked.

                My stomach churned again and I quickly sat up, loudly expelling the contents of my stomach into the toilet for the second time. Niall immediately opened the door and I cursed myself for not locking it.

                “Sweetheart, are you sick?” he asked worriedly, crouching behind me to hold my hair back.

                “That Korean food from last night is not agreeing with me,” I lied.

                “My poor baby,” he said sympathetically, rubbing my back. I threw up once more and flushed the toilet. Niall stepped back and I laid back down, letting the cool tile soothe me. “I’m going to call out today,” he said.

                I shook my head. “No, you have a rehearsal for the tour. I’ll be fine,” I told him.

                “(y/n), you’re not feeling well. Let me take care of you,” he argued.

                “Niall, seriously. I’m going to be fine. It’s just a little bit of food poisoning so there’s nothing you can do. Just go to work and I’ll most likely be better by the time you get home,” I said with finality.

                Niall sighed. “Okay, I’ll go in, but if you start feeling any worse, you call me and I will be home before you know it,” he said seriously.

                “I will. I promise,” I swore.

                Niall kissed me on the forehead and went to get me a glass of water before heading off to set. He stared at me worrily, and I just smiled at him pretending everything is alright while everything bad was crossing my mind.Stop it. You don’t even know if you’re really pregnant. Oh, who am I kidding. I’m late, I feel off, I’m having strange cravings, and I can’t stop vomiting. Stop it, (y/n). This could be just some strangely glorified version of PMS because you’re so late. I laid on the bathroom floor for the next fifteen minutes arguing with myself until my stomach felt okay enough for me to get up.

                “Ugh,” I groaned, seeing how awful I looked in the mirror. I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth, and put my hair up in a ponytail. I needed to find out today if I really was pregnant. “Time to go buy a million tests,” I mumbled to myself. I went into the bedroom and stripped off my pajamas, staring at myself in the mirror. I turned to the side and stared at my completely flat stomach, looking for any sort of bump, but there was none. I looked full on at myself and saw that my breasts were fuller, my nipples a darker pink than normal. Of course Niall had noticed the night before, but I told him I was probably just gaining some weight and it was going to my boobs.

                “I’m the worst liar ever,” I chastised myself. After examining my entire body for any more signs that I was knocked up, I threw on a sundress, grabbed my keys and sunglasses, and headed out the door. I drove to the nearest pharmacy and prayed that I wouldn’t be recognized or photographed buying a pregnancy test. The press knew exactly who I was and there were quite a few pictures of Niall and I hanging out.

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