- Harry -
I drove Niall to his flat in London a bit slower than normal; I was indeed a bit tipsy and didn't want to risk driving fast on the busy streets of London. I was much more sobered up than Niall was, though. Anyone with eyes could see that. I have hardly ever seen him drunk because Liam always offered to take him home whenever he got like this or whenever we went out for drinks.
It took a long while for me to convince Niall that we were outside of his flat instead of outside of a prison. Truth be told, I told him that we were outside of a bakery instead of his house so he could go in. It worked, too.
"Harry, you fucking liar," Niall shouted as I shut the door behind me and inhaled the warm scent of his flat.
I rolled my eyes; he's said the F word seventeen times already. "How am I a liar?"
"I don't see any fucking cake." Make that eighteen. "You don't just joke around with an Irishman about his fucking cake, man."
I chuckled as Niall slowely descended onto the couch in a slurry mess. "Sorry, Niall. We could bake a cake if you want."
"Nah, I don't have the ingrediants," he mumbled, rubbing his face tiredly.
I examined him; eyeing him over carefully as he groaned in agony. Although drunk Niall was extremely funny, I don't like seeing this innocent blue-eyed wonder in pain. "Do you need an icepack or anything?"
He shrugged. "No, mate. I'm fine."
"Bullshit." I quickley pushed myself up and made my way into the kitchen. I filled up a small plastic bag with ice chips just as a crash rang in my ears. I groaned again, tied the bag in a knot, and came back to the sitting area where Niall was.
His eyes were on the broken vase that was previously on the coffee table; but was now on the ground. "Um, someone dropped that..."
I only laughed. "Niall, lay down."
"Don't get tempted."
"Now why would I do that?" I asked with an amused glint in my eyes as I forced him down onto the couch. I could tell that he wanted to laugh, but his cruel headache prevented it. Niall reached up to grab the icepack, but I swatted his hands away.
Pushing him over gently, I sat on the remaining area of the sofa beside him and slowely placed the cold bag on his forehead. He moaned in pleasure at the cool contact on his warm, pale skin, which made me laugh.
"Hold it right there," I told him. "Don't move; I'll be right back."
Niall did as he was told and reached up to hold the bag in place as I released it. "Where are you going? Don't leave me here like this."
I chuckled. He wanted me here. No, he needed me here. "Relax. I'm just going to ring up my mum and tell her that I'm okay."
"Oh..." Niall mumbled, his face was flushed a red-ish color. "Tell Anne that I said hello... And that I love her."
I rolled my eyes again. "I am not telling her that."
"Why not?"
"Because it's my mum!"
"Awh, are you jealous?"
"Of what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at the Irish boy laying restlessly on the couch.
Niall gave me a funny look. "Of my relationship with your mum."
"You don't have a relationship with my mum!" I exclaimed, a bit disgusted. Although, it was quite funny.
Niall winked at me. "That's what you think."
"Niall, shut up and go to sleep. I'll be right back."
I could hear him mumble a few random things to himself as I found my way into the kitchen. I dialed my mums number and waited for her to answer, awkwardly shifting on my feet as the ringing began.
"Harry?" a sweet voice sounded on the other line.
"Gemma?"
"Where are you, little brother?" she asked, obviously happy to hear me. And trust me, I was extremely happy to see her.
"With Niall. That's actually why I called," I explained into the speaker.
"Ooh, really?" She giggled. "So, Louis told me about you and Niall."
I almost choked on my saliva. Louis?! Louis told my mum, his mum, and now my own bloody sister?! This is complete and utter bullshit! Why the hell would he ever do that to me? That has got me wondering; has he told any of the other lads? With his big mouth, he might've told the fucking media. He might as well put it in the paper!
And the funny thing is; it isn't even fucking true.
I remained calm, though. "He did?"
"Yep, he did." I could practically hear the smirk in Gemma's voice. "But I won't tell anyone about your little crush... If you do my laundry when you come home for the next two months."
I groaned inwardly. I should've seen that one coming. "Fine, fine, whatever. But nothing is going on with us. He's drunk now, and thinks he's in a relationship with mum."
Gemma laughed loudly. "Oh, wow. Drunk Niall is priceless. Please record a video."
I chuckled. "I have to go now. Tell Louis to text me and tell mum that I'm okay and I'll be home tomorrow."
"Okay, bye Harry!"
I heard a beep, just as I said, "Goodbye." and the line was dead.
I shoved my phone into my back pocket and entered the sitting room, where Niall was. He was still lying in the same place I left him; sprawled over the sofa with the bag of freezing cold ice on his face. I giggled at the sight of his limp body and sat down on the loveseat.
"Harry?" Niall mumbled, his voice barely audible underneath the bag.
"Huh?"
"Oh, good." Niall let out a sigh in relief. "I thought you were a burglar... Or worse; Liam."
"What?" I managed to ask while laughing. "Niall, you need to go to sleep. You are going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow morning."
"Blah, blah, blah!" Niall waved his hand dismissively in my direction and smooshed the icepack further onto his face with his other hand. "Let's do something."
"Niall, you're too drunk to do anything!"
"Bull." Niall tossed the ice to the other side of the couch and sat up; his blue eyes glistening in my direction. I gave him a look, but he shook it off. With my green eyes watching his every move, he faced me and grinned happily.
"Then what do you want to do?" I asked, genuinley interested in whatever he had in his mind.
"Let's... Uh..." Niall slurred. "Let's tell confessions." Even though it came out of his mouth sounding like, 'Lefs tell cumfusens', I knew what he was trying to say.
I sighed. "Fine. But afterwards, you have to promise to go to sleep."
"Fine, whatever," Niall mumbled. "You first."
"Er, okay..." Did I even have anything to confess? I tell the lads pretty much everything. There's nothing really to hide... Is there? "Uh, Louis isn't really my favorite in the band."
"Interesting..."
"Your turn."
"Oh, right. Uh.. I'm secretely not really a blonde."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Niall, I knew that."
"You did? Really? Oh..."
"You have to tell me another one now."
Niall grinned at me, his icey blue eyes twinkling. "Fine... I've always been jealous of your ability to get ladies."
My smile faultered into a frown for a moment. They say when you're drunk, the truth comes out. So was that the truth? Niall was jealous of me? That isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. And believe me, I don't like this feeling at all.
"Uh," I stuttered, trying to think of a new confession. "This is going to sound so stupid... But I guess you've always been my favorite... Not Louis."
Niall's lips curled up. "Why?"
"Because you're like our little baby; so sweet and sensitive," I explained to him, feeling my cheeks flush a little bit. "And you're the one that everybody loves..."
Niall laughed his famous, beautiful laugh, which made me smile. "Wow, Harreh. That is so cute of you."
"Cute?" I asked, chuckling a bit.
Niall nodded. "Yeah... But guess what?"
"What?"
"You're my favorite, too."
---
Author's Note: I dunno if this is long... I do not think it is... Sorry if it isn't, though. I was aiming for three pages, but I dunno if I got there. Sorry, again! I have to get up at five in the morning now because of athletic training at school... The football players work us to death! And boo, school starts in thirteen days here, ON MY EFFING BIRTHDAY!
{aka, the 27th, so wish me a happy birthday, please? Or not... Okay.. Fine. [; }
It is has been crazy so far. I only proof read once, so I might have missed a spelling error... Sorry, bear with me.
Thank you guys, seriously, for everything you do for me. I love you all so much, you have no idea. So, I know I don't have any hardcore fans, but I legit love, love, love you losers sooo much.
So, was this good? Or horrible? Good, like, I could win a medal or some shit like that? Or horrible, like, I need to delete my account and quit writing for the rest of my life? No? No. Okay.
Much love.
- Maddie xx