Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

11 | walking on sunshine

"Woah," I can't help but whisper, lifting the duvet to stare down at the arm, which undoubtedly belongs to Niall. So it wasn't all some crazy dream, I think, glee washing into every corner of my body; but what if it had been? I'd be waking up alone, for starters, just like every other day. I recall Niall tugging me back into bed last night, refusing to let me sleep on the floor, and have to bite back an embarrassingly girlish squeal. 

I carefully roll onto my other side, simultaneously allowing Niall's arm to slip from my body. It lands with a soft thud on the mattress between us. One side of my face pressed to the warm, sun-kissed pillow, I drink in the sight of a sleeping Niall. He looks truly at peace: his eyes closed; thick blonde hair disheveled; thin, chapped lips sitting in a perfect pout as they emit a soft sound that's a lot like a snore. When I lift the covers to take a quick peek at his torso, I once again have to chew my lip to stop from squealing at the sight of his exposed stomach, his black boxer-briefs. I drop the duvet and simply smile, unable to believe my own luck. 

We remain like this for a while; Niall snoozing softly, me staring at him in a mixture of wonder, awe, and utter disbelief. Right here, right now, nothing else matters. I still miss my dad but not as much. I still wish my mother was a better one but at the same time, I can understand why she's the way she is (especially after last night's realisation that she could be a lot worse). Falling in love and having your soul mate taken from you... well, I can't even begin to process how utterly horrible that must be. Which is why, unfortunately, I must try my hardest not to fall for Niall. Because, after all, nothing lasts forever. 

But it's so damn difficult when his handsome face is inches from mine, his breath tickling my cheeks, his bare skin sending electricity through the air between us and causing shivers to dance up my bones and back again. 

After about fifteen minutes, Niall's eyes flutter open. He seems a little startled at first to find me staring at him -- I quickly glance away, but he's already caught me -- but after mere seconds, he snuggles down into his pillow and greets me with a blissful smile. "Morning, beautiful," he says, and if it were possible to blush oneself into flames, I'd be a pile of smoking ash right now. 

"I'm not beautiful," I say, my voice raspy with sleep. 

"You are," Niall says, and his is just as husky. He lets out a yawn, turning over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as he says: "If a person's first thought when they wake up is damn, that girl's beautiful, then you know it must be true."

I roll my eyes, because a part of me still believes that there's no way in hell Niall could ever consider me to be beautiful, but also because he's just so damn smooth. "I bet you say that to all the girls," I counter. 

"Wrong," Niall replies. "And I don't say it to guys, either, before you start."

I laugh, but the sound soon fades when I remember Mum. I reach over to my bedside table, grabbing my phone to check the time. It's a few minutes past ten, so she must have left for work already. 

As if reading my thoughts, Niall asks, "Is your Mum in?"

"Nah," I reply. "She's gone to work."

"Good," Niall says, "because I'm bursting for a piss." He throws me a cheeky, rakish grin before leaping out of bed and dashing out of the room, clutching his crotch in a way that sends laughter coursing through my entire body. It's risky, of course, because I can't be one-hundred percent certain that my mother has actually gone to work, but for once, I simply don't care. So what if she finds out that Niall stayed the night? I'm nineteen years old and she can't control me anymore. 

Still chuckling, I climb out of bed and head out the room. "I'm gonna make some tea," I call to Niall. "You want some?"

"Sure!" Niall shouts from behind the closed bathroom door.