So if y'all's thinking that this story is Crap and it's gonna do anything, just watch. You frickin watch XD like I don't wanna rush this or anything, I wanna make the relationships build and everything. Trust me I know what I'm doing....sorta...😁😁
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Nialls POV
We arrive at the town hall, which wasn't that crowded, because of all the men missing on the first draft.
Harry and I sit down at our usual spots, our friend Nick joining us. He's Harry's friend, I don't know him too well but he seems alright....
"Bro, I have no idea what's going on but I don't like it." Nick jokes, trying to lighten up the mood. "Haha wait okay, Niall this is dedicated to you. An Irish guy walks into a bar...." Nick finishes his little banter that I don't even bother to listen to. I'm so scared, I can't do this. I can't. I barely passed maths, how the hell do they expect me to fight in a war?!
Granted those things have no correlation but still!
Harry senses my anxiousness and throws an arm over my shoulder, "Ni, everything's going to be okay. Don't worry." He reassures me. I weakly smile at him, appreciative for the lie. It gives me a false sense of security.
"Hey, what numbers do you guys have? I'm number 130." Nick suddenly announces, waving his paper in the air.
"90." Harry says, disappointment dripping in his voice. They both look at me expectantly as a slowly unroll my paper.
"50" I whisper in shock. I'm going to die. We all sit there in silence, this may be the last I'll ever see them. Harry pulls me into a bear hug holding me there for an eternity. I didn't even realize I was crying until Nick handed me a tissue. I thanked him and wiped my cheeks.
"May we have all 1-80 brave soldiers come to the stage. It's you're lucky day! You're now going to represent this country in war. Good luck." The same lady from the radio spoke, in such a sickening sweet voice. I trudged over to the tables getting ready to sign in, not before Harry kissed my forehead. The last kiss I'll get from him.
"Name?" The man asked, he has white hair and a long beard.
"Niall Horan..." I awkwardly choke out. He nods his head and checks over his files on the desk.
"Niall....DPD?" He asks, shaking his head in disapproval. I solemnly nod, Dependent Personality Disorder. "Looks like we have to move you to the medical station." He aggressively stamps the files and I'm dragged towards a different table with a women. She's not too old, maybe 45 at Max.
"Name?" She asks in a monotone voice.
"Niall Horan" I repeat. She writes something down and looks me over a couple of times.
She types into her keyboard to try and recover some files. I turn around and my eyes meet Harry's. Shooting him a weak smile and a thumbs up, i turn around.
"You're going to be a battle Field nurse. Congrats."
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i love fried chicken my dudes.
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Prisoner
Fanfiction_________________________ "Who you with?" The man in front of me demands with broken English, scowling at me through squinted brown eyes. "I won't tell a word." I spat back at him, trying my best not to sink into the chair with his harsh looks. "I...
