Broken Strings || Niall Horan [AU]

14 | playing on broken keys

❝'Ah, music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do here!'❞ ▬ JK Rowling, Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next two and a half weeks go by in a crazy blur of seemingly endless rehearsals, which slip into one like each lazy summer day. 

I watch, bewildered, as Niall transforms before my eyes; he goes from nervous and uneasy, with shaking fingers fumbling awkwardly at the strings of the electric guitar Harry has provided him with, to some kind of musical sensation. Before long, he has learnt all the chords to Midnight Memories -- an upbeat song penned by the lads, which I soon memorize myself due to the amount of times they go over it -- and quickly begins work on remembering the words. This, for Niall, is easy, and by the day that marks the one-week anniversary of the two of us knowing each other, all he needs to work on is putting instrument and voice together. 

Harry is beyond impressed, and so are the other boys. During their rehearsals, I fall into the routine of sitting on the stairs with a novel or notebook, either losing myself in fiction or neatly jotting down my thoughts on lined paper. But every so often, I glance up, and I catch something that makes me grin: whether it be Niall and Zayn sharing a small smile; he and Liam going over lyrics together; Louis and the Irish lad teasing and joking around; or Harry simply shaking his head and beaming as if he can't quite believe his luck -- well, it makes me feel as if the jigsaw puzzle is finally slotting into place. 

However, on the seventh day of rehearsals, I decide I'm bored of simply sitting on the stairs and observing things; I decide that I want to explore. So I get to my feet, brush the dust off the back of my jeans, and head upstairs. 

I've been up here once before, but never alone; alone, it seems emptier, creepier. The hallways are longer, the rooms larger. The upper corners of each room are laced with delicate spider webs, the floorboards creaking eerily beneath my feet as I pace slowly into and out of each room. The last time I came up here, it was raining, but today it's clear, and out of the cracked bedroom window I can see the ocean and pale blue sky, stretched before me. 

In another empty room, I find that there's a Niall-sized shape rubbed into the dust on the floor, as if the Irish boy has lain here, the dust transferring from the floorboards to his clothing. I tiptoe over to the shape and carefully lower myself down, placing my arms and legs in the correct positions, my head where Niall's head would be. And I realise why Niall would lie here. Looking up at the peeling, off-white ceiling overhead, a sense of peace and serenity washes over me. I could lie here for hours; when I turn my head, however, I notice a black spider scuttling down a crack in the floor, and wincing, I quickly scramble to my feet. Evidently, I close the door behind me. 

I find myself wondering what happened to the people who lived here before. A horrible thought pulls at my mind, making my stomach churn -- maybe they died here? Maybe they're still in here somewhere? -- before I remember what Niall told me when we first met: the people simply moved away, taking all their furniture with them and leaving nothing but emptiness. 

Maybe that's not true; they did leave one thing, I remember with a grin. The piano, downstairs. My fingers ache to touch those cracked ivory keys and remember what it's like to simply play. I tiptoe downstairs. Luckily, the boys are halfway through their billionth performance of Midnight Memories and don't seem to notice me. 

In the corridor just off the main hall area, I shove the correct door but, to my dismay, it won't budge. So, I take a step back and, newly determined, run at it full-pelt, smacking one entire side of my body into the door, as I recall Niall doing; the whole house quakes and pain shoots through every part of me, but sure enough, the door surrenders and swings open. As I rub my arm and curse beneath my breath, I wonder why the hell Niall doesn't just leave the door open. Or better yet, take it off its hinges and throw it over the nearby cliffs.