Never Good Enough \\ n.h. au

Eighteen

Everything felt tense around me for the next week and a half, all leading up to the last day of school and the last soccer game of the season. As usual, I was invited and went along with Niall, playing the part for only a little longer. I wasn't sure at that point how I felt about him and all of it.

Yes, I would go back to being at the bottom of the food chain when we 'broke up.' Was that a bad thing? I couldn't decide. It would be nice to be left alone, but at the same time, not being picked on was quite the perk to the charade I performed day-by-day.

His stupid attitude was driving me nuts; he was keeping it up for longer than I could handle. The yelling and scolding made me feel like crap, and I didn't know why he kept doing it. I kept thinking back to how my hair was starting to grow out, and the brown was coming in, but something told me it was much more than that.

The plan was for me to stay over after the game once again, probably to put on a show for friends that would come over like last time. Sometimes I felt famous; that was how ridiculous it all was. 

Sadly, the outcome of the game was not good; they lost, and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. In his voice, however, well, he might as well have been breathing fire.

"Do you want some water?" his mom asked him as she unlocked the car.

"Do I look like I want water?" he spat, glaring at her before thrusting the car door open and plopping down into the passenger's seat. I sighed, hoping he wouldn't hear the annoyance that came with it. 

His mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I gave her a sympathetic look. I quickly replayed something that happened only about a week before, but I tried to push out of my mind.

Niall wanted some help on a school project -- well, his mom invited me -- so I 'happily' agreed. When I was apparently 'of no use' to Niall anymore, I had trudged down the stairs at his house, alone.

"Melanie?" I heard his mom call. I walked into the kitchen, knowing she was probably waiting there for me with snacks. I rounded the corner, but she wasn't in there. 

"In the living room, honey," she told me. I walked through the kitchen and under the archway that led straight to the living room, seeing a worried face waiting for me. 

"Is everything alright?" I wondered, seeing her gesture for me to sit next to her and complying. She sighed out, long and quiet.

"Mrs. Horan?" I called, gripping a patch of fabric on my jeans. Her lips parted to speak, and I didn't know I would be hit with what I was.

"Do you think that Niall is strange?" My first reaction was to laugh, which I did, but she did not. I then got confused, still chuckling lightly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, shaking my head at her. She sighed once more, rubbing her palms across her thighs. 

"He's always yelling at you, and he's rude, and I frankly don't find it normal," she shrugged, staring at me like I should have been agreeing and nodding.

"Normal?" I repeated, and I watched her rack her mind for the right words. Her silence slightly scared me.

"Ever since his dad left when he was seven, he's been. . .different," she said softly. I remembered all the things he had said about his dad, beginning to understand the pain behind his words. I knew I could never really, though.

"How so?" I pressed, completely interested. Did she think there was something causing him to be the way he was?

"I've thought of a lot of things; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, but none of them really add up," she frowned, seeming deeply troubled. I had never thought of it that way before. I just knew that Niall was Niall and that was the way he was.