Leanne's POV
After knocking for the third time — and getting no answer at all — I decide to give walking in a chance. I'm not the one to invade someone's privacy, but the words "come over to the party, we'll mess around" made me think I'd at least see him tonight. I had to try this after sitting downstairs for an hour, thinking he hadn't left his apartment yet, only to fun into Seth and have him tell me he's up im his room. Life savior, that giant is.
I push the door open, instantly coming into contact with an awfully familiar smell, which the room absolutely reeked of. Bringing a hand to my face while closing the door, I also decide this is why he wasn't waiting for me in the enormous living room, or in front of the house, like he always does.
"Niall?" I call, by now mastering the ability to recognize him when he's in a lying position in the pitch dark. Sure enough, he's lying on his back in his bed, with something that my naïve self thought was a cigarette until a few months ago in his hand. "Are you... awake?"
"Mhm." Of course he's fucking awake, you idiot. "Come over here."
I smile sheepishly at his request, smoothing my skirt out as I walk around the bed. I know how this goes, I sit on his bed, we have a deep conversation during which he sounds suicidal and I try to make him feel better about himself, and then he makes the first move. That's the drill whenever he's drunk, I doubt it's any different when he's high. Or getting there.
"Hey," I smile again, this time more genuinely as I watch him, taking his appearance in. Half-unbuttoned white shirt, skinny jeans that he'd been wearing a lot lately, and not to mention the blunt in his right hand that's hanging off the bed while he peacefully stares at the ceiling. I can practically feel him saying something deep any moment now.
"Hi," He greets me back, lifting his busy hand in my direction. "Want a smoke? I know how much you love it."
Well, this certainly isn't any of the deep things I thought he'd say. "What?" I mumble, with as frown as I laugh lightly at his absurd assumption. "No I don't."
"Sure you do," He turns his head to me, frowning too but more in confusion. "But don't worry, I'm not a cop. I don't care. In a legal way."
I can't help shaking my head at him; he's either gotten me confused with someone or he's really high. "What're you listening to?" I decide to change the subject, hearing soft music playing from the end table on his side. The song has changed, but the voice, evidently female, is the same so I'm assuming he has one artist on shuffle.
"Uh... she goes by the name Halsey," He replies slowly, turning his head to his phone for a second, and then to me. "Have you heard of her? You'd love her. She kinda sounds like The 1975. The accent and the music and the slow singing. You'd love her."
At first I narrow my eyes at him — he definitely has me confused with someone. Wouldn't be weird, I've read that marijuana is a hallucinogen. God knows what I look like to him now. "I don't listen to The 1975 either, Niall," I chuckle again, pointing the fact out to see if he could become embarrassed in this state too.
"Of course you do," He insists, turning on his side so his body is facing mine, and I just shake my head. "Remember when we danced to their song in your old apartment? A few days before I got put into a coma."
Now I widen my eyes, completely baffled and a little freaked out; he's not just imagining things, he has me mistaken for an actual person. And the thought of who that person likely is is already making me nauseous. "We'd just started speaking again, after the thing with your name," He continues, his words making me gulp, "And we talked about everything. And then we danced. And we were so happy. And I was so in love with you."
My breathing becomes heavy when he places his hand on my waist to pull himself closer to me, slowly lying his head on my stomach. I don't believe this. I refuse to believe he thinks I'm his ex. How is that even possible? I have straight blonde hair and brown eyes and I'm almost as pale as Niall. Whereas his ex girlfriend has dark, curly hair and blue eyes nearly identical to his, and she looks like she'd just walked out of a solarium. And a gym.
"And I remember that was one of the rare times you didn't smoke pot around me," He continues, and at this point I'm just begging the lord to make him stop. "Because you always smoke pot. First you have have a joint, and then you brush your teeth in the morning. I know because we lived together. And there wasn't one morning where my apartment didn't smell like it."
I don't know if I should be more shocked about his girlfriend's apparent addiction or the fact that they fucking lived together. How long have they even known each other? When did they have the time to move in together?!
"First there was the night we met each other," He keeps talking about the same thing, and I'm-I'm hopeless. He's got his arms tightly around my waist and the music isn't loud enough to block out his words. I have no choice but to listen to him. "When I thought you were smoking a cigarette, so you walked over to me and blew the smoke in my face. And I thought you were going to kiss me. God, was I naïve."
Okay, I should at least try to focus on the music rather than him. I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies- yeah, I probably should switch to bad guys, since the good ones mistake me for their exes.
"And then- when we first kissed. And ended up in your bedroom. You weren't smoking, but the whole apartment smelled like weed. I got high just from being in there."
I glance down, feeling him draw circles on my bare skin. On another note, this so unreal; he's lying halfway on top of me and he's convinced that I'm someone else. As a Psychology major, I'm shocked that I'm shocked by this.
"And then when I met you in front of the club. First you pissed me off that night, then had green tea, and then you didn't let me kiss you when I drove you home. Your usual thing for a while. And then- oh my God, that night in my apartment."
He unexpectedly rolls off of me, giggling as he lays next to me and hugs his legs to his chest. "I once again got high from your joint, and I tried kissing you, and you slapped the life out of me. At first I was angry, then tried turning it into a joke, then I didn't really care."
That last sentence is a surprise. Given the situation we're in right now. "Well, at least I tried not to care. There's something about you, I swear, it's like- it's like you're my air."
I don't think he'd be able to come up with a rhyme like that if he were sane. "I always come back to you. It should be the other way around, I should be the toxic one, I should be the one that won't let you go, but you've always had the upper hand. In our relationship, I mean. I always let you have your way. That didn't really turn out to be a good thing, if I may."
At this point I have a feeling that he's rhyming on purpose. I could legitimately write a song with the words he'd spoken so far. "And then," He says for the fiftieth time, gripping my waist all of a sudden and setting his head on my stomach again. "Then when you called me over. We talked about your best friend, and my dad, and how they died."
I didn't know his dad was dead.
"And that was kinda depressing, so you lit up a joint, of course. One for the both of us. And then we danced to Bon Jovi. And I found out you're Jewish. And you kissed me for the second time ever. And even then, I was so in love with you. Jesus, I'm so in love with you, this isn't even funny anymore."
He nuzzles his head into my stomach, his hair tickling my skin, and I nod at his words. Because that's all I can do. Listen. And hope this doesn't damage me permanently. "Then the first time you gave me a blowjob."
Alright, this is most definitely going to damage me permanently. "When I came home you were smoking again. And the morning after. And you also smoked on your brother's party, but you had a cigarette back then. The only time I ever saw you smoking a cigarette. And a while after that we had that fight because you went to the strip club again-"
Strip club?
"-and I gave you another chance, but you kept lying to me. You kept fucking up. That's the bad thing about you. You're sweet, but you're fucked up."
Now I'm starting to see why he doesn't like me. He has a thing for 'bad girls'. She doesn't just look like one, she apparently is one. That's okay, I guess. I can live with that.
"And I was so pissed I threw you out, and you went home, and a couple days later your brother came to tell me I should give you time, and space. So you could be with your family, that you haven't seen in so long. So you could become okay again. And you did. You're okay. And now you're here too."
That last bit made me sadder than everything else he'd told me. I almost wish I was her so he'd be happy.
He shifts so he's in a half sitting position, and pushes his left hand under my back and throws his other one over my waist, so he's giving me an actual hug while we're lying in bed. I'd say what he's doing now and what he said earlier is cute, but it's more sad than anything. Because I'm not her. I'm physically not her and that's so sad.
"And I'm never letting you go again," He sighs, "You're okay and I'll make sure we don't do anything to change that. I'll make sure we're nothing but happy for as long as we're together."
I purse my lips and bring my hand to his hair to lightly scratch his scalp, and he tightens his hold around me at the feeling. "I love you so much, Freya. So much. So fucking much."
Freya. That's her name. Freya. Freya.
Despite my thoughts I nod, cracking a smile and continuing to play with his hair. I'm not sad or upset anymore, nor am I numb. I've come to peace with the fact that I'll never be someone he loves. And the fact that there's someone out there that he does love and whom he's going to make the happiest person in the world.
"I love you too, Niall."
*******
I hope he's not awake. I've snook out of his room and had a glass of sprite, to kill the morning breath until I get to my place and properly brush my teeth, and now I'm hoping I can pick up my jacket from his room and leave without him seeing me. And then hopefully never see him again.
I really hope he's not awake.
Seriously, I hope he's still asleep — even though it's past one in the afternoon and we fell asleep at around 11:30. It might be rude or whatever, but I honestly can't stand stand the thought of looking him in the eye after last night. All that I got from last night is mild heartbreak, the word 'Freya' stuck in my head, and the phrase 'and then' stuck in my head too. I don't like any of those in particular.
I crack the door of his room slowly and carefully, but end up cursing myself because of course he's awake. Of course he's sitting up in his bed, with his head in his hands, lightly rocking himself back and forth presumably to ignore the pulsating of his head. Of course I won't get the easy way out.
"Oh, hey." But when he lies eyes on me, his quiet groaning and painful expression suddenly disappear, and he's out of bed within seconds. Stumbling a little, but he's up either way.
"Um..." He comes right in front of me, with a nervous look in his eyes. Already. "I'm really sorry for last night." He breathes out in relief when I snort — he likely has no idea what he's done last night at all. "I, uh... I don't know what I did exactly, but I know it wasn't good. Not when I woke up with all of my clothes on and you nowhere in sight."
I offer him a sheepish smile, and awkwardly bump his chest with my fist. "You didn't do anything, you were just really high and I didn't... I didn't want to take advantage of you in that state."
This time he laughs at my words, because we've already had this conversation before, though it always applied to alcohol. He told me I'd never be taking advantage of him because he'd be up for sex anyway, and I usually followed those words when he was drunk. Can't say the same thing for last night, though. A part of me wishes he was wasted instead of being high and telling me about his girlfriend.
"I thought we talked about that," He grins, bringing his hand up to my cheek, saying just what I'd assumed he'd say.
"Yeah, but, you know... we talked about you being drunk, not high," I smile nervously, feeling anxious about him touching me for the first time in months.
"Same thing, different drugs," He mumbles, taking a step closer and bringing his other hand to my face to push my hair over my shoulder. This was not the plan, Leanne, this was not the fucking plan.
"So, um, are you feeling okay now? Need water or anything?" I bring my hand to the back of my head, resisting the urge to hit myself when I realize just how high pitched my voice has become all of a sudden. That wasn't part of the plan either.
"No, but you know what? I think I..." I look up at him when he looks away from me, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. "I think I had a dream about... never mind."
"Freya," I nod, and he looks at me with widened eyes, and I also notice him gulp; if I'm gonna get myself out of this, I might as well come clean. "And you didn't. You just talked about her a lot. Well no, you didn't talk about her, you kinda... talked to her."
His expression turns even more baffled when he raises his brows partly in surprise, partly in terror. "Talked to her, what, did I call her?"
"No," I sigh, now bringing my hands to rub my face. I do plan to come clean, it's just not that easy. "You-you were high and you... you thought I was her. So you talked to me like I was her."
I drop my hands from my face and stare at my feet for a minute, a little anxious when I notice that Niall isn't moving at all. I already knew that things would get awkward between us beforehand, why is the start of that awkwardness making me feel bad?
"Really?" He blurts out a minute later, his tone blunt, and when I look up at him, I can recognize the looks of confusion and astonishment on his face. "I... really did that?"
"Yeah. And- I don't know what we've been doing this whole time, but-" I close my eyes for a second, and lick my lips in an attempt to pull myself together. Coming clean still isn't getting any easier. "You're in love with her, and I-I- I don't know. This is pointless, that's all."
Is that really the best speech I could have given? Probably not. Do I regret not thinking before speaking? Definitely yes.
"Well... it's not really supposed to have a point," He chuckles, leaning his head to the side in an attempt to get me to look at him. It didn't really work. "Other than making one another feel good. That's the only point of us, isn't it?"
Making one another feel good. Of course. Of course that was the only point of us this whole time. I have no one but myself to blame for thinking it could turn into something more. "Yeah, but... the way you talked about her last night, I-I really- I can't keep doing this. It's like... I knew she was a real person, but now, I just..."
Why can't I just say what's on my mind without needing to buffer?
"Okay," I hear him almost whisper, and and when I look up at him, he's got the 'I'm not particularly happy about this but oh well' kind of face. On a completely unrelated note, I hate that it's so easy for him to let me go. "I can understand that."
I nod and look down, surprised that I've already accomplished my goal; and his only answer was 'okay, I can understand that'. "Besides, you did tell me you'd be getting back together with her, so..."
To be honest, I've completely forgotten about that bit until now. I was so caught up in the illusion that I had him- and I never really did.
"Yeah, uh, her birthday is in a couple weeks and we'll see what happens."
I nod again; this is definitely my cue to leave. "Good, well... I'll see you around."
"Mhm," He nods firmly, which either implies that we'll definitely see each other, or that we definitely will not be seeing each other again in this lifetime.
"Okay," I sigh, more to myself, when the fact that my thing with Niall is over and nothing really came out of it gets to me. "Okay. Bye."
Without waiting for a reply, I turn to the door and walk out, my feet carrying me out while my brain is barely comprehending what I'm doing. My brain is barely comprehending what I've done in the past few minutes; let's hope the feeling goes away by the time I reach the front door.
"Hey, uh, Li?" I turn around in one swift movement at the sound of his voice — just now I'm realizing how desperately I want this whole thing to have a different ending. "Um... thanks. For the past few weeks, I... I needed it."
Oh, great, he's thanking me for having sex with him. Is he also gonna pay me now? "No problem. I had fun too."
He grins for a split second, walking closer to me with his hands in his pockets- God, I'm gonna miss him. "Well, at least now you can focus on other guys and have a real thing with someone."
I raise my brows at that last bit — it's a surprisingly good thing to hear. "Really? You think I'm dating material?"
"Of course," He says right away, frowning as if my question is ridiculous. "You're... you're amazing, you make the best coffee, you beat everyone at video games and you're up for sex like fourteen times a week. Any guy would be lucky to have you."
He's laughing at his words by the end of his little speech, but I can't help but think — why aren't you one of those guys?
"Yeah," I nod curtly, beginning to turn to the staircase again. "Thanks for that. I needed to hear it."
And I did. I did need to hear that not every guy is going to need me what Niall needed me for. And I especially needed to hear it from Niall himself.
*******
i don't even need to ask if y'all are happy because i know you are
also can you guys talk to me on other social networks?? the links are in my bio and i'll follow/reply to everyone just plea s E i'm so lonely during this time of the year haha ha