Somewhere In Between // Niall Horan

Chapter 20: Forget Them All

❝ Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never, never have to worry about grown up things again. ❞

~~~

March 16, 2013

London

    Niall knew he shouldn’t have agreed to do another talk show.

   Here he was in front of a large TV audience, squished to death on a tiny red sofa that people never seemed to notice was too small for five grown boys.  Everyone’s eyes were on him and he was getting fed up with the stupidity of the interviewer.  Seriously, though.  The band had given a million interviews ever since Niall agreed to the first one.  Every single one of those million interviews was about Niall’s coma and nothing else.

    Every.

    Single.

    Fucking.

    One.

    It made him want to rip his precious blonde hair out.

   Niall thought he was prepared for the bombarding of coma questions, but he never expected himself to be so irritated by them.  The reporters all asked such boring and unoriginal questions.  “What happened that night?”  “Do you remember anything from your coma?”  “Was it strange?”  “What was it like waking up?”  He was sure that 99.8% of them already knew the answers, but alas, every news source wanted a quote from Niall Horan himself.  Quite frankly, he was tired of everyone pretending that  they had absolutely no knowledge of the event.  Niall wanted to sit them down and remind them that they could just do a quick internet search so they didn’t have to annoy the hell out of him.

    But he couldn’t, and this was a regular procedure that came along with being in the public eye, so he was stuck on yet another morning show, explaining for the millionth time about the time he got in a car crash and fell into a state of perpetual unconsciousness.  The interviewer this time was a pretty brunette lady who made the boys discreetly elbow each other, but for all her worth, Niall still found her completely irritating.

    Come to think of it, his newfound hatred of endless questions must’ve developed during his time in Neverland.  He wasn’t like this before the coma.  Neverland did strange things to a person.

    “So, Niall,” the interviewer (Cassandra, her name was) began, tapping her ridiculously long fingernails on the cue cards on her lap,  “you just recovered from a coma, correct?”

    No way!  How’d you know?

    “Yep,” he responded, stifling a sigh.  “Well, sorta.  It’s been a few weeks.”

    Cassandra’s eyes sparkled with interest.  She leaned forward in her chair as if it would goad him to reveal more about his comatose state.  “And tell me, what was that like?  You know, waking up and finding out you were in a coma all that time?”