Everything felt tense around me for the next week and a half, all leading up to the last day of school and the last soccer game of the season. As usual, I was invited and went along with Niall, playing the part for only a little longer. I wasn't sure at that point how I felt about him and all of it.
Yes, I would go back to being at the bottom of the food chain when we 'broke up.' Was that a bad thing? I couldn't decide. It would be nice to be left alone, but at the same time, not being picked on was quite the perk to the charade I performed day-by-day.
His stupid attitude was driving me nuts; he was keeping it up for longer than I could handle. The yelling and scolding made me feel like crap, and I didn't know why he kept doing it. I kept thinking back to how my hair was starting to grow out, and the brown was coming in, but something told me it was much more than that.
The plan was for me to stay over after the game once again, probably to put on a show for friends that would come over like last time. Sometimes I felt famous; that was how ridiculous it all was.
Sadly, the outcome of the game was not good; they lost, and you could see the disappointment in his eyes. In his voice, however, well, he might as well have been breathing fire.
"Do you want some water?" his mom asked him as she unlocked the car.
"Do I look like I want water?" he spat, glaring at her before thrusting the car door open and plopping down into the passenger's seat. I sighed, hoping he wouldn't hear the annoyance that came with it.
His mom glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I gave her a sympathetic look. I quickly replayed something that happened only about a week before, but I tried to push out of my mind.
Niall wanted some help on a school project -- well, his mom invited me -- so I 'happily' agreed. When I was apparently 'of no use' to Niall anymore, I had trudged down the stairs at his house, alone.
"Melanie?" I heard his mom call. I walked into the kitchen, knowing she was probably waiting there for me with snacks. I rounded the corner, but she wasn't in there.
"In the living room, honey," she told me. I walked through the kitchen and under the archway that led straight to the living room, seeing a worried face waiting for me.
"Is everything alright?" I wondered, seeing her gesture for me to sit next to her and complying. She sighed out, long and quiet.
"Mrs. Horan?" I called, gripping a patch of fabric on my jeans. Her lips parted to speak, and I didn't know I would be hit with what I was.
"Do you think that Niall is strange?" My first reaction was to laugh, which I did, but she did not. I then got confused, still chuckling lightly.
"What do you mean?" I asked, shaking my head at her. She sighed once more, rubbing her palms across her thighs.
"He's always yelling at you, and he's rude, and I frankly don't find it normal," she shrugged, staring at me like I should have been agreeing and nodding.
"Normal?" I repeated, and I watched her rack her mind for the right words. Her silence slightly scared me.
"Ever since his dad left when he was seven, he's been. . .different," she said softly. I remembered all the things he had said about his dad, beginning to understand the pain behind his words. I knew I could never really, though.
"How so?" I pressed, completely interested. Did she think there was something causing him to be the way he was?
"I've thought of a lot of things; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, but none of them really add up," she frowned, seeming deeply troubled. I had never thought of it that way before. I just knew that Niall was Niall and that was the way he was.
"Why-" I started, hearing him bound down the stairs behind us. He always seemed to do that.
"What are you guys doing?" he wondered, walking to the kitchen. His mom gave me a look, answering him.
And we hadn't found a time to continue to conversation since then. I could tell while she was looking at me in that rearview mirror that those thoughts were running through her mind, but like that memory, I felt it best to push it away. I had other things to think about right then, like how not to get yelled at.
When we arrived at their house, Niall said nothing, just ran up the stairs to his room and shut the door. Usually he slammed it.
I was on my phone to avoid any conversation with his mom -- I was in the middle of trying to look at hot guys on Instagram. I have priorities -- when the doorbell rang. I smelled pizza, grinning widely when Mrs. Horan brought two boxes into the kitchen.
"These are for Niall," she said to no one, placing two large slices on a plate.
"I'll take it up to him," I smiled, the aroma of food lifting my spirits. As I walked up the stairs, I remembered how it was the last day of school; no more school for three months, and then only a year more. Another thought to lift my doomed soul.
"Niall?" I called through the door, cocking a hip while holding the pizza at waist height.
"What do you want?" he growled. I sighed, wanting to be done with his terrible attitude.
"There's pizza," I spoke, lifting my eyebrows. The door opened a few seconds later, and he left it open. His hand took the plate, and he went back to sitting on his bed on his phone.
"What's up with you women and sustenance?" he scowled, biting into that very thing, anyway. I snorted.
"Maybe the fact that it's what makes you live?" I teased, rolling my eyes. He put down his phone, glaring over at me.
"Why are you still here?" he wondered, chewing loudly, I supposed on purpose.
"You left the door open," I shrugged. "It was an invitation in my mind."
"I left it open so you could close it," he said rudely. I sighed, about to walk out.
"Do you want anything else?" I wondered, only trying to help.
"Just leave me alone, would you?" he requested, raising his voice. I scowled over at him, wondering what I had done.
"What is your problem?" I asked relatively calm.
"You are! Now get out," he barked, standing up to push me out. I was out of the door, and he was about to close it when I spoke up once more.
"Is this all because you guys lost?" I lightly chuckled, thinking that was probably the cause. His lips mashed into a line, and for a second I remembered how I had almost kissed him. I had wanted to.
"No, it's not that," he sighed, annoyed. I furrowed my eyebrows. I had thought for sure that I would be right.
"Then what's wrong-"
"You're not me!" he exclaimed, shaking my bones. I blinked at him, making sure I heard him right.
"What?" He let out a long sigh, but when he looked back up at me, he looked absolutely heartbroken.
"I don't think you understand; I don't think anyone does," he started, and I tried to say something. "Please let me talk," he demanded, a little less insolent than before. I nodded, watching his chest rise as he inhaled like he was about to run a marathon.
"Something. . .changed in me after my dad left," he spoke, cringing on the word change. I bit my tongue from saying something. "It was hard for me to accept any big changes like that, and I think it still is. Friends are impossible with me because their personalities aren't mine. I've been trying to figure this out since he left. I was seven, and Harry was the only friend I had. He still is the only one." I comprehended the words, but the story still wasn't that pertinent to that moment. The raw anguish in his expression was hurting me, too.
"So, I think I know what's going on," he breathed out. His whole demeanor had changed from only a minute earlier when he was shoving me out of the room.
"You are the worst part. Somehow you wormed your way into my life when I thought everything was starting to work out. You ruined my entire life, Melanie," he spoke, each word a little garbled and shaking. His eyes bore into mine, and I suddenly felt a weight on me.
"You've heard me say this before, but maybe it didn't get into that thick skull of yours. You're brown haired, not athletic, short, quiet, and not very fun to look at. I am all of those things. We are opposites. You might as well be poison," he spat, alarming me.
"I-" I let out, breathing shakily.
"Suddenly you're so prominent in my life that I have no choice but to deal with your difference from me. And do you know what?" he almost laughed. I could only blink, trying to take all of it in.
"That's so terrifying for me," he whispered, his eyes unexpectedly filling with tears. "I've said too much," he spoke to himself, knowing I would be able to hear. My fingers were shaking, but it was hard to think about that. Or anything.
"I-I didn't know," I let out, sounding smaller than I had in a long time. He grit his teeth, letting a tear fall down his cheek.
"I am not going to lose myself to you," he growled, seeming like he could be on fire if he wanted to be. He was determined to get me out of his life.
"Do. Not. Come near me again. Do you hear that, scum?" he smiled, content with the way I was responding.
I nodded, finding my back against the railing overlooking the foyer below. My heart was pounding, and breathing wasn't an option.
"Swear to me," he spoke, standing taller to be above me.
"I swear," I whispered, glad he didn't ask me to repeat it any louder. I would have shattered.
"Now get out," he demanded. His door slammed shut, and I collapsed onto the floor, trying to think again. It took time to conjure intelligent thoughts, not just the repeat of his words over and over in my head. When I did come up with something, I knew it was 100% truth.
I've ruined both of our lives.