"They've handcuffed me to a chair." Niall commented idly, examining his single wrist that was bound by metal to an arm rest. He gave it a slight tug.
I lifted the thick blanket that lay draped over my shoulders. "They've given me a trauma blanket."
"Are you traumatized?"
I thought about this for a moment. "Yes."
Niall and I sat alone on a row of plastic chairs inside the police station. We had been brought here by squad car, the only difference being that Niall sat in the back while I sat in the front. He was convict at the moment, I the suppossed victim. And technically I wasn't suppossed to be sitting by him. In minutes they would notice and send me back, but for the moment we were leaning on each others shoulders.
"You've been crying." he observed, curling a lock of my hair around his pointer and angling my face towards him. His thumb rubbed absently against my reddened cheeks to wipe away any remainder. "I hope it wasn't over me, I'm such a stupid thing to cry over."
"I know right, how unlike me." I huffed, "When my boyfriend gets taken away in handcuffs, I usually get down on the floor and do the worm."
Niall laughed, instinctly moving to drap an arm around my waist but being cut short by the cuffs. That seemed to really bother him. "I can't hug you." he said quietly, making the chain rattle. "They're making it so I can't hug you." He stared in dismay at his wrist for a moment, as though that would make it unlock, before anger seeped into his features.
"Fuck." he grumbled, and gave the cuffs a sharp tug. "Motherfucking buggering assholes, they can't do that. I can hug you."
"Niall, calm down." I exclaimed, grabbing a handful of his shirt and forcing him to sit. The trauma blanket slid to the floor as I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed tight. His breathing was rapid, and it dawned on me that Niall Horan could have panic attacks. "Look- damn I'm a good hugger. Everything's gonna be fine."
"Lie to me," he demanded, "Again."
"Everything's gonna be fine."
He rolled his head back and stared at the harsh florescent lighting overhead, releasing a drawn out sigh. Niall looked exhausted. Face ashen, eyes tired, and even his usual lilac hair seemed to be lacking color as he visibly drooped. I knew now wasn't the time to question him. But I wanted to know if we were ever going to address that big question hanging over our heads, the what now. What now that my mom would find out I was with Niall, if he would be arrested, what would happen to us. What about the huge, fat truth that everyone was working so hard to split us apart, while we fought for the exact opposite.
A man was led over and handcuffed to another chair three away from mine. He was old and graying, with a bristling mustache and large beer gut that was spilling out of his ripped tshirt. I returned his harsh stare with a kind smile.
"Hello," I called over, dodging Niall's hand as he attempted to clamp it over my mouth and shut me up. "What're you here for."
The man cast a dark look to his right, before straining against his cuffs to lean towards me. "Well, it was an accident you see- they're accusing my of stabbing my neighbor in the stomach. Knife slipped though, right out of my fingers. Real shame."
Niall made me move and sit on the other side of him.
He still had that troubled look on. This is when I made the lamest attempt ever to distract him. Niall gave me an odd look as I brashly thrust my hand into his pants pocket. "You know my dicks in the front right." he said, "Because this would be a weird handjob." I blushed, ignoring his comment and extracting a coin amidst the lint.
"Go get the dime." I demanded, tossing it a little ways away. It spun twice on the floor before landing on its side.
"I'm still handcuffed to the chair."
I stood up and moved it a little farther away. "How about now."
"Sweetheart, what are you doing."
"It's just right there. I'd guestimate about a yard away."
He was giving me an odd look, but laughing none the less. "You're such a dork." he mused, stretching his leg out and hooking it around my knees to reel me in. I fell back onto his lap as he buried his face in my hair and took a deep inhale, muscles relaxing.
It was then that two unlikely people came racing over, their dirty sneakers skidding to a halt on the tile floor. They stopped in front of us, leaning forward with their hands on their knees, clearly out of breath.
"What the hell are you two doing here." Niall groaned, glaring at his two friends.
Zayn rolled his eyes, before wriggling a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a crumpled handful of cash. He peeled off a single bill. "Bailing you out." he looked over at Harry. "I have seven dollars."
"I have eleven." Harry said in dismay, opening his wallet. His eyes spotted something on the floor a little ways away. "And there's a dime right there."
Since Niall didn't have the ability to do it, I took the liberty of smacking them both upside the head. I think that's what finally caught someone's attention. Zayn and Harry didn't look exactly family friendly, so when an outsider sees a girl boldly hitting them both, said person can expect the two boys to retaliate in some way.
"You made me drop the dime." Harry whined, watching as it rolled to under the seats.
"Well I guess you're fucked, Niall." Zayn sighed, "I'm gonna have to dye my hair purple and start dating Abbey to take your place while your gone."
"I don't think so." Niall deadpanned, giving his friend a dark look.
"Excuse me." a young cop interrupted, and when the three boys swung around to look at him, the mans hands twitched automatically towards his belt. He glanced nervously towards Harry and Zayn, who has the audacity to begin lighting cigarettes in the middle of a station, and back to me, where I sort of sat in Niall's lap, his hand heavy on my thigh to hold me still.
"She can't be over here." he explained, inching towards me. Niall's hand tightened instantly. "You still need to be questioned, and she needs to make a testimony, then maybe you can see each other."
"But she's traumatized." Niall argued weakly, wrapping his one free hand around my waist and pulling me higher up his lap. One finger latched around a belt loop. "And she's my girlfriend."
"Right, I understand that you're dating." the cop replied impatiently, thumbing through some papers on the clipboard he held. "But it also says that this is your second accusation of physically and sexually abusing her. The last one took place about- oh, here it is -about seven months ago." He paused and squinted at the paper, "It also says in your last testimony, that you promised that you would quote, 'leave her alone' and 'not talk anymore'. Her mom requested it personally, that you'd stay away. Looks like your in for a bit of trouble."
Everybody looked at Niall expectantly. "I said a lot of things that night." he said, raising his hands defensively.
"Niall," I scolded, "You can't make false promises to the cops. Did you pinky promise them?"
"The hell- first off, sweetheart, you need to remember that pinky promises aren't legally binding. Secondly, I did not pinky promise a cop."
Zayn cleared his throat. "Hey man, we'll watch out for Ashley-"
"Abbey."
"We'll watch out for Abbey for you." Zayn finished, trying to give me a kind smile that appeared very forced on his face. He placed a hand on my elbow, that I immediatly shuddered out of.
"You can't just take her away from me." Niall accused. He was suddenly standing, or standing as much as he could with one hand chained to a chair. He was trying to move in front of me, like he had done so many times before, but with his current restrictions it was clear he was getting more and more fed up as he aimed a frustrated kick at the seat. Niall Horan was helpless for once.
Zayn placed both hands on Niall's shoulders and forced him to sit back down, practically pinning him to the back wall. Through gritted teeth he commanded, "Harry, take the girl. I need to talk to Niall alone for a second."
"Abbey, don't leave my sight." Niall called to me, trying to lean around Zayn.
The cop raised his clipboard and graciously backed off, while I let Harry grab at the end of my trauma blanket and lead me a little ways away. I cast one last look back at Niall. This was when he was suppossed to give me that smug smile, tongue dipping out to wet his lips as he sat there with that stupid lilac hair and looked as though the world was in his favor. But instead he looked strained with worry, and that's when I knew that nothing was going to be alright.
-Niall-
"Alright man, I feel like nows the best time to do it." Zayn sighed, sinking down into the empty seat next to me.
"Do what?" I muttered, barely paying attention. The metal edges of the cuffs were biting into my wrist every time I moved. Despite this, I made sure I could spot Harry and Abbey a few feet away.
He had moved them to lean agianst the wall by the water fountains, out of the way of the bustling crowd. They were playing rock, paper, scissors -clearly Harry's lame attempt to distract Abbey from the entire situation. I strained my ears to hear their muffled conversation.
"Rock, paper, scissors." the two chanted in unison. Harry's large hand balled up into a rock, while her slender fingers contorted into something unrecognizable.
"What the fuck is that." Harry said.
"The power of words." she explained matter of factly, waving it in his face. "It beats everything." Harry groaned, saying that figurative shit like that didn't count, and besides, if he hit somebody over the head with a rock after they asked him not to, rock would beat words.
"You need to break up with her." Zayn interrupted, his voice hitting me hard. I startled, turning to stare at him and letting the distracted smile fall from my face.
"What?" I said, confused.
"Break up." Zayn repeated slowly, "With Abbey."
It wasn't that I didn't hear him, it's that the words weren't exactly making sense. I blinked and rubbed at my cheek as though I'd been slap. "What're you on."
"A lot of shit." Zayn replied vaguely, "But come on, it needs to be done. Like ripping off a bandaid that you've grown extremely fond of. Has to go eventually."
I continued to stare at him, but his expression remained dead set and serious. I glanced back at Abbey, who still had that dumb trauma blanket trailing behind her. Although she would never admit it, I believed it made her feel better. She still had on my sweatshirt, and somewhere along the way somebody had given her pants (thank god) (I think). They were shorts used for cops-in-training workouts, and were clearly big and sunken low on her hips. She looked endlessly cute with her stupid power of words and baggy clothes and trauma blanket and pale skin on her thighs, which I liked pale by the way, because I imagined that bites would leave a more prominent mark.
"What were we talking about." I said.
"My overdue mortgage." Zayn replied sacastically. "Breaking up with-"
"Oh right." I snapped, feeling my face suddenly grow hot at his suggestion. "About that, why would I- I'm not doing it because they threatened me to. I don't care. It's like, we're supposed to. Need each other, I mean."
Which sounded as sappy and stupid out loud as it did in my head. Because, well fuck it, she saw me. Abbey wasn't scared of the way I looked or how I acted, and she didn't treat me any lesser for it. She was sarcastic, stubborn, and a bit of a dork, but ultimately we had claimed each other.
"What you need is a blow job." Zayn replied, deciding to take this moment to punch me in the crotch. "But she's not gonna provide that, by the way. She's a bandaid that doesn't give blow jobs."
"But it's not about that." I protested weakly. "She doesn't like touching, and really, I'm the first person she lets touch her. Jesus, it's like, sure I would want to- but I don't wanna rush her, you know?" And I did think about it, like a lot. Especially since she had such a unfortunately teasing mouth, and would come over to my house sucking on a Popsicle after chasing the icecream truck for two blocks, not even realizing what she was doing as her lips moved. And- oh hell, I was suppossed to be talking to Zayn. I took a moment to find my train of thought. "She trusts me."
"Right, Zaym exclaimed, practically leaping on my words. "She trusts you. God knows why, but that girl trusts you in a way I don't understand. But you haven't been good to her, Niall. In the beginning you just wanted to use her, then you were bothering her, then somewhere along the way you got this stupid little crush. And you're always saying how much 'safer' she is with you, when you're always the one getting her into trouble. You and I know she'd be in less trouble without you around, but you've gotten too selfishly attatched to realize that if you really like her, you need to leave her alone. You know these guys aren't gonna leave until you do. Honestly, you're being a dick by putting her into direct danger."
I instinctly moved my arm to punch him, but the god damn handcuff bit down into my wrist and pulled me back. Zayn looked a little out of breath after his dramatic monologue. I stewed over his words, and although it was undeniably true, and I knew it too, I had been avoiding it for so long in hopes of tricking myself. The fiasco from earlier only solidfied my reasons.
"Zayn." I pleaded, "I can't. Like, literally can't."
And then I was suddenly mad, because I imagined her leaving me and going to somebody else, where they would try to touch her and maybe they wouldn't understand- they wouldn't get her jokes and biting tone and the way she has to pick the marshmallows out of the lucky charms, because she's the only fucking person alive who didn't like that part of the cereal.
Abbey Farrell was suppossed to be mine.
--------------
"Alright, I think they've had a long enough gossip fest." I declared, after Harry used The Power of Friendship to beat my Journey of Life in figurative rock, paper, scissors.
Niall and Zayn both flinched at my sudden arrival, looking stricken. Zayn quickly recovered though and immediatly returned to his usual I'm-just-a-disinterested-vogue-model look, while Niall continued to look as though someone had just keeled over and died at his feet.
"What's going on." I said accusingly, stopping a few feet away and casting them suspicious glances. Niall was looking at me hard, eyes apologetic and desperate. Oh, something was definently wrong.
A hand suddenly touched my shoulder, and I stepped out of range, spinning around to see two police officers standing there. I tried to look as though I had innocently wandered to this side in search of the bathroom.
"Abbey Farrell, right?" the fatter one asked, smartly straightening his tie. "Well, it's time you come with us for questioning. You were suppossed to be in there minutes ago, couldn't find you though. You're not suppossed to be over here. This boy was like, called in by a neighbor for cutting your hand."
"It was a fake call." I fumed for the hundredth time that evening, barely stopping myself from stomping my foot like a child. "What do you people not understand? I haven't been physically abused by him."
"We still need it down on paper. It's not in your favor, especially with his past accusation and your injury as proof."
I sighed and moved to follow them. Niall stopped me though, grabbed my forearm and held tight, spinning me around and staring at me. He lifted up my hand so my palm would face his, bringing it up close to see the cut slashed across my skin. His thumb lightly bumped over the cut, and when I winced, he dropped my hand and looked further apologetic.
"I didn't mean to hurt you." he blurted out, and I don't think it was just the cut.
I turned to face the two cops. "Give us a second." They paused, looking hesitant, because clearly this was an odd case when the abuse victim is defiant in the fact she's not a victim. I blinked once like tears were gathering, and they backed off with a mutter.
Niall was staring at me in a way somebody savors something they aren't going to see in a while, like parting couples in airports. So I think I sort of subconsciously knew what Niall was going to say next, because suddenly I exclaimed, "Well I'm breaking up with you then."
His eyes widened. "Sweetheart, jesus, I haven't even-"
"Sorry, sorry. Do continue."
"Oh." Niall sighed. But did not continue. I didn't know exactly what to feel. Because I was sure he was here to stay for a while. Niall once got a lifetime ban at the local grocery store when I knocked over three racks and he took the blame. And it was stupid, yes, but you don't take lifetime bans for anyone.
"Sweetheart- I mean, Abbey." and then I felt extremely awful, like somebody had grabbed my insides and held a match to them. "We need to break up. I mean like, I'm breaking up with you." He paused. "Right now."
"Oh really," I finally snapped, "I thought you meant it was scheduled for next week, this break up. Does Tuesday work for you?"
And then suddenly I was mad, I was seething, but I refused to be the girlfriend who broke down in tears and wept for her loss. It was Niall who followed me around the first day we met, who was super creepy and broke into my house. He made me trust him, he made me like him, and he also made me let him touch me. A couple minutes ago he said not to leave his sight, so why the hell was he deciding now to force me out.
I was waving my hands around in the air like I was about to say something, but my face was growing flush and all I could think of was anger, but I could not think of angry words.
Niall grabbed my hands out of the air, trying to steady their movement. "Abbey-"
"Don't touch me." I said harshly, pulling out of his grip. It shocked me as much as him when I heard myself say it, because it had been a long, long, time since I had ever told Niall that. That was his thing, he could touch me. Only him. So I took great pleasure in watching him lose something he had worked so hard to earn.
"Is it about what the guys said earlier." I accused, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders. I suddenly severely needed it.
He pursed his lips together before letting out an unsteady breath, "Abbey, the very last thing I want is for you to get hurt, okay? Jesus, it's like, I'm suppossed to be looking after you when I'm the one getting you into problems. What if you got seriously hurt and it was my fault? I need you to be okay. I need you to be okay. Remeber what you said when we first met? I'm trouble. You don't need that in your life. I think."
"What a dickweed." muttered the guy who had accidentally stabbed someone.
I stared at my dickweed ex boyfriend, the one who had a mere hour ago told me he liked me in one huge wordless way. And that's what I liked to think of us as, wordlessly compatable in a wonderfully unexplainable way. He was stupid and I made stupid jokes, and he taught me how to correctly parallel park (because apparently I was awful) and I taught him how braid hair. We once had a contest to see who could walk the slowest across the street and get the most cars honked at them, resulting in angry driver literally jumping out of his car and chasing Niall and I for two blocks.
"Jesus, Niall, you're like a seventh grade girl with mood swings. An hour ago we could never be apart. What are you, are you-" And in my hysterical state, I literally laughed a bit before saying. "Are you menstrating or something." Niall tried hard to remain impassive. I gathered myself. "So I guess we're broken up then."
"I guess."
"I promise not go all Taylor Swift on you and write a song declaring my non existent heart ache."
Niall literally flinched at my words, the casual tone that allowed my words to roll off my tongue as though they weren't feeling like boulders. He raised his hands towards me, second thought it, and ran them anxiously through his hair. Niall reminded me of a beast roaming restlessly in its cage. He glanced over at Zayn once more, nervously.
"Wait," he shot out, hand closing around my wrist tight. I let out a small shout at his harsh grip, trying to shake him off, but he was desperate and panicking. "I can't do this-"
"Abbey, you need to come with us." the cop said, as Zayn physically entered the Break-Up Zone and began to peel Niall's fingers off my wrist. He wasn't relenting though, and Harry had to come up for support. I stumbled backwards when his grip relenished and caught myself for once.
"What's your actual dumb hair color." I asked, because I didn't want to talk to him ever again, but it was something I had to know.
Harry was literally holding Niall back now. "It's brown. I have brown hair."
"God." I said, imagining him as a brunette. "You're so stupid."
He blinked. "You're stupider."
"Well, you're the stupidest stupid to ever be stupid."
And he was smiling now, which he shouldn't be doing in the Break-Up Zone, but it was then that I realized my mouth had contorted into a grin itself, against my will.
The cop again clamped a hand on my shoulder, firmer this time, clearly fed up with our little soap opera going down. Niall tensed again, like a coiled spring ready to release at any moment.
"I swear to god," Niall muttered darkly, "Abbey Farrell does not like it when people touch her, so get your hand off. She also doesn't like it when people get in her face when asking questions, so try to make this as accomdating for her. As. Possible."
And we left. They tried to take the trauma blanket away. But I kept it wrapped around me the entire time, hugging it hard, as though trying to disappear in the thick fabric. I did not think of Niall Horan.
I did not think at all about Niall Horan.
(niall's a moody little girl am i right) (weird his p.o.v.) (this is literally my least favorite chapter i ever wrote like I rewrote it five times thats why the update is so slow) (still a sigh tho) (there goes the dream team) (THIS ISNT THE END OKAY DONT LEAVE)