❝There is a time for risky love. There is a time for extravagant gestures. There is a time to pour out your affections on one you love. And when the time comes -- seize it, don't miss it.❞ ▬ Max Lucado.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I wake up missing him.
I miss him so much that it makes my chest hurt and my brain swirl. It's Saturday the twenty-seventh of July, and my every thought, my every movement, my every being, revolves around him. I don't think I can take it any longer; if I don't see him soon, I might just go insane from the sheer amount of longing, which has consumed my entire body and left me feeling empty inside.
The big day has finally rolled around and I can't wait for him to knock on my door to escort me to the tacky Irish pub in which the competition the boys have rehearsed so much for will take place. I haven't seen him since the eighteenth, which was over a week ago, and I know that it's stupid but I can't help but hope that he hasn't forgotten about me, or stopped liking me, or simply realised that I'm not as great as he initally thought. Perhaps he has and he won't show up tonight. Fear sends icy fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver even though the day is cloudless and warm.
As I bite into a slice of buttery toast whilst sitting at the round kitchen table, Mum drifts across the room, making coffee. She passes me a mugful, sitting down opposite me with a smile. She looks better than she ever has; long black hair sleek and shiny, arms covered with a bronze glow from our mother-daughter day of sunbathing in the back garden yesterday, a slither of her flat stomach visible above the waistline of her loose denim shorts. I can smell sun-cream on her skin above the floral scent of perfume, and as she lifts her coffee mug to her lips, her pretty bracelets jangle on her wrist; she meets my gaze and puts down her coffee.
"Are you up to anything today?" She asks. I wouldn't have to ask her the same thing; I already know the answer. David is taking her to the beach. She asked me yesterday if I wanted to come, but I said no, because I didn't want to feel like a third-wheel or make things awkward, and thankfully she didn't object. Her date with David last Friday went well, and she's barely stopped talking about him since. I don't mind; I'm just glad she's happy, for once.
I swallow a mouthful of toast before answering: "Well, tonight I'm going out with Niall. His band's playing in a competition."
Mum lifts her dark eyebrows. "Well, I hope they win."
"They will," I promise, grinning.
At around twelve, David comes to pick Mum up to take her to the beach. I stay upstairs in my room, but I can hear them talking through the floorboards. I can hear Mum's laughter, and then her calling "Bye, Anna!", and then the slam of the front door. I peer out my bedroom window, watching as a tall man with dark brown hair leads my mother down the garden path. They climb into a fancy-looking car and zoom off down the road, and once again I'm left to my own devices.
I spend more time getting ready than usual. I shower, washing my hair and carefully shaving my legs, removing the thin layer of stubble that's formed on each one over the past few days. I dry my hair, letting it fall past my chest in gentle waves, and brush it through until I'm certain that every knot and tangle has been thoroughly eradicated. Then I start on my face. I neatly pluck my eyebrows, cover every spot with concealer, and apply multiple layers of mascara.
It takes me even longer to choose something to wear. I pull out numerous outfits from my wardrobe before throwing them across the room, feeling frustrated. I eventually settle on a black skater dress with a white peter-pan collar. I tug on sheer black tights and a dozen bracelets to cover my scars.
Then, when I'm finally ready, the only thing left to do is wait.
The doorbell rings at 7 o'clock, and the sound echoes throughout the house, startling me. Nervously, I get to my feet from my position on the sofa and pat down my dress, tucking a stray strand of hair safely behind my ear before heading to the front door. Inhaling deeply, I pull it open.
When I see him, all the nerves and worry and anxiety melt away, and I'm home again; home is wherever I'm with him, and now, leaping into his arms and listening to his laughter as he stumbles backwards and holds me tight on my doorstep, I truly am home. I'd forgotten how good it felt, how safe and wonderful, to be enveloped in his warm embrace. His arms are wrapped right around me, our bodies fitting together like pieces of a broken vase. Together, we're complete, and right now, nothing else matters.
Behind him, somebody clears their throat, and I open my eyes to see Harry, Liam, Louis and Zayn, standing there with arms folded across their chests. "Alright now, Nanna, we know you're excited to see each other but we've got a competition to get to," Harry says.
Reluctantly pulling away from Niall, I repeat, "Nanna?"
"Niall and Anna. Nanna."
"Right," I say, chuckling.
Only then do I get a proper look at Niall. He's wearing a black t-shirt and a denim jacket with cut-off sleeves, and a pair of black jeans, which expose just how skinny his legs are. His hair is up in a quiff, his eyes bright and his smile wide. He looks good, so good that I'm beginning to wonder why I haven't kissed him yet, or why he doesn't have a thousand other girls lusting after him. After tonight, however, he probably will. God only knows how many attractive girls there'll be at the Band Battle, just waiting to snatch up a gorgeous bandmember.
"You like it?" Niall asks, gesturing to the denim jacket. "Harry picked it out."
"I love it," I say. "You look great."
And all the girls will fall at his feet, I think. Worry begins to set in, but when Niall takes my hand, sliding his calloused fingers inbetween mine, I'm reminded of just how much he cares about me and the worry disappears once more. Our fingers interlocked, he looks down at me. "Do you mind?" He asks, his eyes twinkling like crystals.
I shake my head. "Of course not," I whisper, squeezing his hand tight.
All six of us begin to walk, the four other boys in front and Niall and I trailing behind. Conversation comes easily to us and Niall tells me stories of funny things that happened while the boys rehearsed, such as Harry throwing a toddler-like tantrum when Louis accidentally sung a lyric wrong. Niall says this in a hushed tone, wary of Harry walking just in front of us. Louis must overhear, however, because he turns around and, winking, says: "I did it on purpose, actually. Just to see how he'd react."
I tell Niall about Mum's new boyfriend, and Niall laughs at the irony of it all. "So, she told you not to get a boyfriend, and then got one herself? Wow."
"I know, but she apologised for it. She also said sorry about how she acted with you the other night. And, she wants you to come round for dinner sometime so she can get to know you."
Niall lets out a fake gasp. "Oh my God, maybe David can come too and we can double-date! That would be totally rad!" He says in an over-excited voice.
"Shut up, you idiot," I laugh, giving him a playful whack. Sunlight splashes the pavement before us, casting our shadows long. We walk in silence for a while, our hands still entwined. "So, are you nervous?" I ask after a while.
Niall shrugs. "I'm trying not to think about it. If I think about how big this is, I'll start to panic and I'll get all anxious. I'm feeling OK at the moment, but there's just so much pressure... There's so much to lose..."
I frown. "Niall, you're going to be amazing. Honestly."
"But what if the other bands performing are amazing, too? What if they're more amazing? What if the audience doesn't like us?" Niall begins to knaw on the fingernails of his right hand, his left one, still gripping mine tightly, becoming noticeably clammy. "Okay, now I'm thinking about it, and now I'm getting nervous."
"Let's think about something else, then," I say quickly. I gently squeeze his hand, my thumb slowly moving along his skin. "Like how nice this feels."
Niall looks down at our hands. He looks at them for a long time. "This does feel nice," he softly says. "We should do this more often."
I simply nod, baffled by how natural this all feels.
All too quickly, we arrive at The Lucky Leprechaun. The place is already crowded, and Harry pushes his way through the thick mass of people; we follow, and admist all the chaos, Niall's hand lets go of mine. The six of us end up in a large, empty room towards the back of the pub.
"So, uh, I'm guessing this is our dressing room?" Niall asks.
"Yup," Harry nods, glancing round.
"Unfortunately, it's a communal one," Liam adds. "We'll have to share it with the other competing bands, so no smack-talk, okay? I'm looking at you, Louis. Anyway, it looks like we're the first ones here."
I look around too, studying the room. It's not exactly the nicest place, with tatty posters plastered across every section of wall and the carpet beneath our feet stained and threadbare, but it's not like we'll be spending long in here. There are comfy-looking sofas pushed up against the walls and Niall and I happily take a seat. The other boys join us, with Harry reluctantly sitting down last.
"What time is it?" He asks, fidgeting, while another band -- a group of four young men -- arrives.
"It's half-seven," I reply, checking the time on my phone.
"I wish eight o'clock would just hurry up already," Harry mutters, anxiously patting his legs. "Apparently we're the first to go on, out of eight. It'll be good to get it over and done with."
"But then afterwards, we've got our second song," Niall says. "I'm more nervous about that one, to be honest." He begins to bite his lip, staring down at his lap.
We stay silent for a long time; a silence broken only when Harry jumps to his feet and says, surprisingly, "right, I'm bored. Who wants a drink? And I know I've said that we shouldn't drink before performing, but it'll calm our nerves. Besides, we can go check out the crowd."
So, we all follow Harry out into the main area of the pub. The room is crammed with people, and we have to fight our way to the bar, elbowing our way past groups of already-tipsy girls and boys.
Five beers and a vodka-and-coke later (because, really, I've grown bored of just having coke all the time), a man appears on stage and a silence falls across the room. "Good evening, everybody!" He calls excitedly. "Welcome to the Bournemouth Band Battle! Are you ready to have a good time?"
The crowd erupts into cheers and Niall turns to me, nervously. "I guess this is it. You wait here, okay? Afterwards, I'll come right here. Wish us luck..." He trails off, taking deep breaths, heavily inhaling and exhaling as if all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.
"Good luck, you're gonna be amazing," I promise. Niall throws me an anxious, shaky smile, and then they're gone, and the next thing I know, the man onstage is introducing One Direction, and the boys are there with their instruments, standing in position, ready to go.
I feel my heart racing fast, pounding against my ribcage. I know they're going to do well, but I can't help but feel incredibly nervous, and scared for them. "We're One Direction," Harry says into his microphone, "and this is Midnight Memories."
One...
Niall grips the neck of his electric guitar tight with one hand, adjusting his microphone with the other.
Two...
I catch his eye across the crowded room and force a smile.
Three.
An explosion of music meets my ears and suddenly, they're really doing it: they're performing, with Harry singing his lines into his microphone, and the boys playing their instruments with all their might, and the crowd cheering wildly. It all seems like some crazy dream, and I can't help but keep my eyes locked to Niall, who slowly comes out of his shell and gets into the performance more and more as the song goes on.
They reach the chorus and, as I stare at Niall, something happens inside me; I get a fuzzy feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I realise just how attractive he really is. He looks so good up there, so powerful and invincible and untouchable, his forehead gleaming with sweat and his eyebrows knotted together in concentration. When it gets to his solo, a few girls around me squeal in delight. "I don't know where I'm going but I'm finding my way," he sings, stepping forward and slamming down on his guitar. With one hand, he grips the microphone, pulling it towards him, his lips brushing its surface. "Same old shit, but a different day."
The audience becomes more and more pumped, a mass of sweaty, intoxicated bodies jumping up and down. A few times, I catch Niall's eye, and he grins or winks, and the group of girls near me begin to giggle and blush, thinking he was looking at them. They don't notice the short girl beside them, leaning against the bar, a vodka-and-coke in her hand and a smile fixed on her face just for the Irish lad on stage. Niall does, however, and he returns my smiles, looking at me more frequently as the song goes on and he puts less and less concentration into playing.
All too quickly, the song comes to an end, and as the music fades away, the audience erupts with cheers. I clap, watching happily as the boys throw each other satisfied, relieved grins, before falling into an awkward five-way hug, various limbs sticking out and hands gripping each other tight. Being the first to pull away, Harry grabs a nearby microphone and says breathlessly, "We are One Direction, thank you, goodnight!" I watch as they jump offstage and are swallowed up by the audience.
Knocking back the last of my drink, I turn back to the bar to order another, and when I turn back again, Niall is standing there with a smirk on his face. "So," he says, somewhat smugly, "how does it feel knowing that a rockstar has a massive crush on you?"
I laugh, sipping my drink before setting it down on the bar. "Wow. You've only performed one song and you're already calling yourself a rockstar. Talk about big-headed."
He mirrors my grin and before I know it, he's pulling me into a warm, albeit very sweaty, hug. "I told you you'd be amazing," I tell him, and he squeezes me tight.
"I still can't believe that just happened," he says as we part. He looks down at me, his eyes glistening, his t-shirt glued to his body with sweat. "I mean, I felt so invincible up there, you know? Like nothing else in the world mattered." He rakes a hand through his hair. "Do you think the audience liked it?"
"Of course they did! They loved it," I say, and then, quietly, I add, "I loved it." I don't think Niall hears that, though, because the next band has begun to play and the audience is once again cheering. However, I can't help but notice that they're not cheering as loudly as they were for the boys; relief floods over my body as I realise that they really do have a shot at winning this thing.
"So, where are the others?" I ask, shouting over the music.
"Soaking up the female attention," Niall explains. "Look." He turns slightly, pointing down the bar, where a few meters away, Harry is chatting up the blonde barmaid from the other day. "See?"
I chuckle, turning back to Niall. "You know, I heard a few girls squeal when you started singing."
"You're kidding me," Niall says, smirking.
"Nope," I laugh.
"So," he says, taking my hand. "Were you squealing for me?"
"I was squealing inside," I admit.
"Good enough for me," Niall says. I buy him a drink and we lean against the bar, watching bands come and go, none of them quite as special as the one and only One Direction. Maybe I'm biased; or maybe, just maybe, the boys really were the best performers. Harry, Liam, Zayn and Louis soon arrive, exchanging grins, clinking celebratory glasses of beer together. They talk about how amazing it felt to be up onstage, and how relieved they feel that their first song is over.
Only Niall shows clear nerves about the next performance, which is fast approaching. After the initial excitement over their first performance dies down, he begins to bite on his fingernails, his hands visibly shaking when he reaches for his glass. It seems so weird for such a confident boy to be so anxious, especially when the other lads seem absolutely fine about it, and I realise that it must be something to do with the 'big' thing they'd been planning; the thing that stopped me from being able to spend the last week with them.
Gently, I tap him on the arm. "Are you okay?" I ask, quietly.
He looks down at me. "I'm just nervous," he admits, giving a small shrug of his shoulders.
"How come? You're going to do so well, and it's probably an amazing song. They're going to love it," I tell him, gesturing to the drunken audience.
"It's not the song I'm worried about," Niall says. He looks away from me. "It's the outcome of the song. That's what I'm anxious about. It... It could change everything..."
Before I can contemplate exactly what this means, Niall is being tugged to one side by Harry. "Dude, this band is the last one to perform, and then we're up with our next song. Are you ready?" Harry asks, staring at Niall, his thick, expressive eyebrows knotted together.
Niall glances to the stage. It looks so big from down here, so... exposed. "I think so," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Come on, we'd better get ready to go on," Harry says.
"Okay, I..." Niall turns back to me. "I guess this is it. I'll see you afterwards, okay?" He can't quite meet my eye.
"Okay," I reply, helpless. I'm struggling to understand why he's so nervous; as the boys disappear into the crowd, however, I realise that he's probably just scared about whether they'll win or not. After all, all the boys are. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared, too.
Next thing I know, they're on stage again, and my heart is racing because I have no idea what's going to happen next. I find Niall's gaze and keep mine locked to his, watching as he grabs the microphone and pulls it towards him. The crowd falls silent.
"H-hi, everyone," Niall stammers, a little shakily. His voice echoes throughout the room and my heart-rate begins to quicken, butterflies swarming the pit of my stomach. "I hope you're having a good time and that you enjoyed our first performance." He takes a deep breath, still not taking his eyes off mine. "Our next song is really special to me. I wrote it myself, y'see. It's about a girl, a girl who means the world to me, who saved me, who made me realise that life really is beautiful. I'm not going to tell you her name because she knows who she is, and she's standing right over there, and she looks absolutely beautiful in that gorgeous little dress, and I've made it pretty clear that I'm falling for her, and although she said to me that she's not ready and that she doesn't feel the same about me, I have a feeling that this song could change her mind. Anyway..." He trails off, finally taking his eyes off me, this time looking down at the floor. "Anyway," he repeats, "this is a song called 'Through The Dark'."
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[A/N]: Ahhhhhhhhhhh. This was such a long chapter omg, I really hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be the last one of Part Two, asdfghjjkhgfds. Please, show me your love in votes and comments. It would be amazing to reach 800 comments, ahh <3
If you could check out my Louis AU, 'Fall', it would literally mean so much to me. I can't even describe how much all your support means to me. I love you I love you I love you I love you. ♥