Stockholm Syndrome (Ziall Horlik) AU

Chapter 4

Niall's POV

          It's been 6 days since I've seen Zayn and 9 days since I've been in this basement. I hear him when he gets home and turns on the water to things, but he hasn't come down here in days. I haven't even gotten food. Good thing he left snacks in the cabinets, so I've been eating crackers and bread for the past days.

            I don't think what I said caused him to be this mad but then again, I did say I wanted him to leave. I just hated going this long without any human communication. I hated going 10 minutes without anyone talking to me.

           I was just sitting on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. I didn't want to be alone anymore. My heart was hurting from missing the way things were just days ago. I wanted my mum and I wanted my bed and my guitar. I wanted Harry and our junk food. I even wanted to go run three miles with coach yelling at me, saying I run like a girl. I just wanted everything back to the way it was. This isn't how I planned on living my life. Not being held captive by a crazy 23 year old man, that makes me confused on my sexuality and my whole feelings of protecting myself.

          The worst part of all of this was I actually missed Zayn. Even in the three days I saw him and talked to him, he just did something in me. It was like I felt bad for him, but also I knew he was my only way of survival. I guess my mind immediately told me to depend on him. But not only that, I liked the way he seemed so happy around me. No one gets that way around me. I would say something and he would smile and listen. Normally people yell at me to shut up or not even acknowledge I'm talking. Not allot of people like me and make sure to show it.

          Whether it's telling me to kill myself on Twitter or tripping me in the halls. Most people don't like me because I'm happy all the time and never listen to anything they say. My happiness annoys people, but they don't know I'm not really happy. Only Harry knows this.

           When my family moved from Ireland to Doncaster, I fell into a depression. I just wanted to go home and be with all my friends again, but my dad's job moved us here. I didn't have any friends until I made the football team, but that still didn't make me happy. It was such a big change that mentaly and emotionally couldn't handle it. I felt like sleeping all the time, I rarely ate, I went to school and practice then come home and cried until I passed out. Things were hard and I didn't deal with them in a healthy way. I blamed it on my dad and hated both my parents for doing this to me. Then Harry came along.

          He didn't ask questions about anything, he already felt knew and understood. He just tried making me happy and included me with his friend group. He helped me get girls and sometimes just be the person there that would hold me when I was alone. People thought we had a weird relationship because we were always touching or cuddling. We didn't care though, he helped me out of that dark time and still helps me even now with people giving me hate.

          Just thinking about him made tears well up in my eyes. I missed him so much. His warm green eys, those huge hands that could hold me close and comfort me when I needed it most. Everything about my best friend was perfect. I loved him and wished he could come find me soon.

           The tears were sliding down my face as I hugged my knees closer to me, wishing I could have some human contact. Up stairs I heard a door slam and something being shuffled over. I stood up and went to the bottom of the stairs. I heard the door being unlocked, then saw Zayn as he opened the door.

          He looked different though. His dark hair was a mess and his eyes had a gloss over them. He started stumbling down the stairs and I saw he had a glass bottle in one of his hands. I realized what was wrong with him. Zayn was drunk.

          "I missed you so much." He slurred and stumbled off the last step. I reached my arms out to catch him and he fell into them. He looked at me in the eyes and smiled sadly. Our faces were inches apart. I felt his breath on my lips, leaving the sent of alcohol in my nose. "You're so perfect. I wished I looked like you. I'm an ugly pice of shit." He said sadly. I just started helping him over to the couch, ignoring his comment. He's the definition of perfect, he needs to see that. I'm the definition of potato. I look like one and that's why no girls ever date me.

           Once he was sitting, he took a long gulp of vodka from the bottle. His face scrunched up then he coughed from the burn of the liquid. I reached out and took the bottle and going to the small bathroom. I put it on the counter then went back to see Zayn crying into his hands.

          "Hey, what's wrong?" I asked sitting next to him and rubbing his back.

          "I'm horrible! I didn't come to see you in days and now you hate me! I want to die!" He screamed in pain. My heart broke because of his last words spoken. I remember feeling like that. No one should want that or feel like that's the only option.

          "No, I don't hate you. You shouldn't want to die." He looked up at me in the eyes. I reached out and wiped the tears falling with the pads of my thumbs. "You're alright."

           "You're perfect." He said in awe of me. I don't know what his drunk mind is thinking, but it's seriously wrong. I shook my head and smiled at him. My hands were still on both sides of his face. I looked at his brown eyes and saw so much sadness and pain, that I could feel it too. His eyes darted down to my lips then back to my eyes. I felt my heart start to pound in my chest. He leaned foward and my breath hitched. I've never been kissed before and I really don't want it to be with a drunk guy. And a guy at that. I'm straight... well kind of.

          "Zayn?" I asked. He was centimeters away from my lips. "I've never been kissed before." I told him and he backed away.

          "Oh okay well, ehm, sorry. I just want to try it with you. You're so cute." He slurred out. He looked like he was literally going to pass out any second, so I laid him back on the couch. I got up to go find the one blanket I have, but was stopped my him grabbing my hand. "Stay with me?" He whispered out. I nodded, then laid beside him.

          Zayn wrapped one arm around my waste, spooning me from behind. I moved closer back against him and felt his warmth. In that moment I felt so... complete. I wasn't alone, I had someone holding me close that actually cared about what I had to say or think. Someone who appreciated me.

          I felt a soft kiss on the back of my neck and shivered. I've never felt anything like it before. It felt so good. "Goodnight Niall."

          "Night Zayn." I whispered back, closing my eyes and cuddling back into him more. I felt sleep come over me and loneliness leave me. Maybe this wasn't so bad...

A/N: are you all seeing Niall's reasons for liking Zayn? Comment/Vote! Thanks to those of you that are!
                         -Bri;)