"Did you know," Niall stated factually, "That a person needs human contact at least seven times a week to remain mentally healthy."
I was laying upside down on Zayn's cracked leather couch, my head hanging off the edge and hair dangling down onto the ground below. My knees were hooked around the top as I took in the upside down boy in front of me.
Niall's eyes locked onto the pale strip of skin on my stomach that had been exposed by my shirt falling down from the position. I hurriedly pushed it back into place.
He continued when it was obvious I wasn't going to answer. "So that fear you have, it's an actual phobia. Haphephobia, the fear of touching. You're not gonna be mentally sane if you don't let people touch you."
"But I don't feel mentally sane when people touch me." I replied stiffly. Placing both my hands on the rough carpet below, I swung my legs over and let the momentum send me sumersulting forward. Once right side up, I blinked rapidly as blood rushed to my head.
Niall stared at me. "I want to kiss your stomach."
"That's a little strange."
"It is." he agreed, pausing and squinting at the ceiling, "I don't know why I do, though. Can I?"
"No."
He shrugged absently, as though what he had said wasn't a big deal. "Anyway, it says that Haphephobia is usually caused by a past traumatic experience."
I tried not to react at his words, instead kept my face impassive and neutral. Niall cocked his head at me, obviously seeing past my facade.
"So tell me, sweetheart." he said slowly, "What past traumatic experience might that be?"
I stared at him, opened my mouth briefly, before snapping it shut. My eyes darted around for something to draw my attention to. Anything but where this conversation was headed.
Yet Zayn's house lacked much interior design. We had come over to his place after a loud, music blasting drive, with him cackling and swearing in the background. He was eccentric but also a total and supreme dick. This might explain his friendship with Niall, even though Zayn was a 21 year old uni drop out.
They say surround yourself with good people, but here I was. Sitting across from Niall, who had his thin fingers wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle. Zayn had offered me some earlier.
"She's not drinking," Niall had said stiffly, giving me a stern look.
I glared at him. "Why?" It's not that I wanted to, or was even planning on it, but it was bothersome when Niall thought he could boss me around.
"Oh come." Zayn whined, forcing a cold bottle into my hand, "I wanna see this girl get tipsy."
"So you can try to make out with her when she's barely unconscious?" Niall snapped, "I said no."
I blinked back into the present as Niall's voice came breaking through my thoughts. "It's obviously something. You weren't born being afraid of touching."
He swirled around the drink in the bottle, spilling a little over the edge and onto the floor. It was sometime past his second bottle, and it was obvious he was slightly intoxicated by the way his blue eyes clouded over.
"Why is your hair dyed lilac?" I asked fiercely, desperate to draw the attention off of me.
"It's purple," Niall corrected automatically, "And I didn't just do it for fun, it's in honor of someone." His expression softened a bit. "Somebody who died."
"Who?" I exclaimed quickly. Niall never liked to talk about himself, as though his past was one shadowy secret. I always assumed the hair color was just to contribute to the fear he was trying to induce in his look.
Niall took a sip from his bottle. "It's not a happy story. Sort of like you." he drained the rest and thumped the empty glass against the ground. "God, I really, really want to touch you all the time. And not always sexual. Sometimes I just want to lay down with you. I don't know why. Is that weird? It's weird for me."
"Okaaaay," I giggled, getting to my feet, "You're drunk. Let's go home."
Niall shook his lilac head and grabbed my unopened bottle. "No. No, I'm fine."
He dug around in his pocket and fumbled with his pack of cigarettes, knocking a couple to the ground. Swearing under his breath, he stuck one in the corner of his mouth.
"Who died?" I asked, refusing to let that slip up go by un-noticed. Niall looked up and blinked in surprise
"I'll tell you," he paused, "If you let me kiss you. In three places. Wherever I want."
I glared at him. "You're a disgusting bastard."
Niall shrugged apologetically. "Then you don't want to know too badly."
I stard at him for a moment, contemplating this offer. When people touched me it felt like my skin was on fire, and it made my heart race like I had just finished running. But with Niall, his brief touches weren't too bad. And if he tried for anything weird, I'd probably hit him.
"Fine." I said stuffily.
"Really?"
"Really. Don't do anything weird, you creep. I'll knock your teeth out."
Niall's face broke out into a happy smile. He leaned towards me until our faces were separated by mere inches of space, my quivering breath mixing with his alcohol tainted one. Scrutinizing my worried expression, doubt crossed his eyes at the sight of my nerves.
I closed my eyes and clenched my hands around tufts of the shag carpet beneath me. Warmth suddenly fanned over my face as gentle lips pressed against my forehead, right along my hairline. They stay there for a second before withdrawing.
"One." Niall said, as I opened my eyes and stared at him, surprised he had gone with something so tame.
His hand touched my shoulder birefly, nudging me backwards to lean against the couch. "Niall-" I warned, tensing to get up.
"Sweetheart," he hummed, "Relax a bit, okay. Relax."
I complied, leaning backwards slowly against the couch. Niall looked at me briefly, before bending down and slowly sliding up the hem of my tshirt until it had rose above my belly button. His finger hooked into the waistband of my shorts.
"On second thought, I don't want to know that badly." I stammered hastily. He bent down and pressed another long kiss to my exposed hip.
"Two." he sang, sliding my shirt back down and tugging the fabric off my shoulder. His lips closed onto the bare skin, and I felt his hair brushing my neck.
"Three."
He withdrew, looking content. I had been clenching the ground so tightly that my joints felt stiff when I slowly released the carpet.
"What the hell was that." I demanded, because- honestly.
"I kissed you," Niall said happily, "In the places that I always want to touch. You taste sweet, babe."
I brought my hand to my hip, the patch of skin where he had been burning like fire. I tried to mentally will it away. "Now tell me what's with the hair. You promised."
Niall took a long sip from his bottle, wincing when he put it down. "I did promise," he complied, "But it's not exciting. It's in honor of my younger sister. She died."
Although he was trying to act casual, I could hear the strain in his voice. An unrecognizable emotion flashed across his eyes.
"She was six, I was fourteen. And I was suppossed to be watching her." his voice is rising with every word, "I was supposed to keep an eye on her, but she electrocuted herself to death. On accident. Stuck a toy in a socket. Don't you know not to do that when you're six?! It's common sense!"
Niall ran both his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. He looked at me desperately, as though for help. "Niall-" I began.
"That doesn't even ever happen." Niall continued, quieter now, "The statistics on that are so low. I loved her so much- her favorite color was purple, to explain the hair -but after she died, I just sort of," he looks down at himself with a crumpled face, "Turned into this."
I stared at him for a second. The boy with the lilac hair, the one so traumatized by his past that it turned himself into a regretful monster. Sounds a little like somebody I know. In that moment I didn't believe he was actually bad, I believed he acted bad to protect himself.
"It's not your fault, Niall." I said quietly, "It never will be. It's not your fault. I'm sorry, I really am sorry."
Niall staggered to his feet, clutching a nearby table to steady himself. "Yeah, well, don't bother. Sorry won't bring her back from the dead."
And so I drove him home, (kind of stole Zayns car) because he was drunk out of his mind. School would be ending soon anyway, where I would have to go back to my house and try and act surprised that the window had been smashed. Niall was quiet the entire ride over, leaning against the window and letting his breath fog the glass. I imagined a young, confused Niall, blaming himself for the death of his sister. Being punished for years by his own guilt. It made me feel horrible.
But I did not expect to see a man inside Niall's flat when I opened the door and dragged Niall inside by his collar. A guy was standing in the kitchen, with balding hair and a beer gut, wearing a tshirt with a food stain on the front. I froze in place.
"Who are you?" the guy asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. He looked over at Niall and sighed. "Is he drunk again?"
"Ignore my dad." Niall scowled, attempting to move down the hall. I grabbed his elbow to stop him from falling.
"I'm a friend." I replied kindly, sticking out my hand to shake. "Of Niall's. I'm Abbey. Nice to meet you, Mr. Horan."
His dad didn't take my hand, only regarded it oddly. "Niall doesn't have any girl friends." Giving me a strange look, his dad brushed past me and disappeared into the living room where I could see the faint glow of the TV.
"I hate him." Niall declared, as I helped him to his room. It was surprisingly tidy, lots of posters tacked along the wall of football players. A bed with rumpled sheets was pushed into the corner, on which Niall flopped backwards onto.
"Are you okay now?" I asked, approaching him wearily and bending down to untie his sneakers.
Niall let out a low chuckle. "Look at you, helping me. Why the hell are you doing that."
"Because I'm nice." I replied. Pulling off his other shoes, I set them neatly on the ground and pushed against his shoulder until he was laying down. His purple hair contrasted spectacularly against the white pillowcase.
"Well I'm not," Niall mumbled, closing his eyes. "I'm selfish, horribly selfish. I've followed you around and made you cry and ruined your life because I'm too selfish to stay away. You don't like touching, but I can't stand not touching you. God, I'm horrible. You really should hate me more then you do."
I smiled faintly. "You're a very honest drunk."
I moved forward to pull the blanket over him, but Niall reached out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me forward and quite literally on top of him. It was a tangle of warm bodies for a moment, and then I was laying right up against him, pushed against the mattress as he hooked an arm around me.
"Niall." I whispered, feeling that small flare of panic begin to burn inside my chest. It was suffocating, like really being trapped. Niall used one finger to turn my face towards him, separated by mere centimeters of air.
"At first I was just being mean to you. I like being mean." Niall said absently, while I tried to wiggle away. "Because you didn't like touching and I didn't like people who stand up to me, I was set on bothering you."
Niall sighs and buries his face in the hair on top of my head, his breathing slowing. Another hand fists the back of my shirt. "Niall." I repeated urgently.
His blue eyes snap open, see my worried face, and his hands withdraw as though in hot water. I roll away from him and off the bed, barely stopping myself from falling.
"Oh god, I've scared you." Niall moaned, punching pillow. "God damn it. For fucks sake, I can screw up anything." he points at me. "The guy you keep hanging around with is a selfish, scary, asshole who knows what he's doing is wrong."
I purse my lips and step forward, counted to five, then bent down and give him a quick peck on the cheek. "You won't remember any of this, you know."
"Good." Niall muttered, his eyes drooping. "Bye sweetheart."
I shut the door softly behind me and lean against the wood. A lot can be learned from drunk Niall, and I'm not sure exactly what to do with it. I'm moving to leave when a voice stops me.
"You shouldn't hang around with him." I turn and find Niall's dad standing there with a microwaved TV diner. He nods at Niall's door. "You're a good kid, and Niall's a bad influence. He's gonna be out of here the moment school ends, and I'm afraid he's gonna wanna take you with him."
"Is that so?" I replied coldly. The man made me nervous, after how bad Niall made him out to be.
"He obviously likes you if he's keeping you around."
"Yeah, well. He doesn't like you very much."
His dad sighed, shoulders drooping slightly. "I know. My own boy hates my guts. Can't really blame him though, I suppose." he paused and looked up at me, "I'm just letting you know, Niall doesn't do well with things leaving his life. Once you're in, you'll have trouble leaving."
Niall Horan was complicated, and it seemed fitting that two equally complicated people be together. But the more time I spent with him, the more worried I became. Everybody was always warning me, but I was always choosing not to listen.