This

Vivian always loved the thrill of being on the road, but the relief she felt to finally be stopping at a hotel for a couple of days was absolutely palpable. For the last couple of weeks, things had just been off with Audacious Amour. Sam seemed to be off in her own world now – ever since Niall Horan had returned her, unconscious, to the bus with her battered flute. The girls had taken custody of their fallen friend with a ferocity known only to a pack of wolves, and Niall hadn’t ventured toward their bus again. That didn’t stop Vivian from wondering what had happened, and she knew there was more to the story than Sam would let on – which was next to nothing. Viv hoped things would improve with the necklace Cass had worked so hard on, and it had, sort of, but the tension on the bus was borderline unbearable.

Greeting the fans as Audacious Amour made their way from the bus to the hotel, Vivian wondered how many of her bandmates were faking smiles. She was too distracted to realize that she’d fallen a step behind, and she didn’t realize that security had moved just past her until someone grabbed her arm. She whirled around in alarm, trying desperately to keep her “popstar smile” plastered on her face. She couldn’t make out the words of the youths screaming into her face as they maintained their death-grip on her arm. Communicating was pointless – they couldn’t hear her, either. As she looked around, trying desperately to find the rest of her group, she felt her breathing quicken almost painfully.

“Mya! Mya, turn around!” The beautiful brunette drummer was the closest, but the shouting was too loud, and Vivian’s cry was lost. She turned back around and tried to communicate with the frantic fans, but when her other arm was grabbed, Vivian panicked, sure this was it, sure they were going to take her in and trample her and there’d be nothing she could do about it.



Zayn was tired, more tired than he could remember being in a long time, as he walked through the crowd, waving to the fans he loved more than life itself. His arm was thrown Niall’s shoulder as they walked, and the two of them grinned at each other: This was their life, and it had been a crazy one as of late. As Zayn glanced around, though, he pulled away from his Irish companion, gesturing Paul to accompany him and pushing past his bandmates toward a head of fiery red hair that he was beginning to know well. He ignored the shouts of his fans as they noticed him nearing and placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder. Her head whipped around and he was taken aback by the sheer panic in her seafoam green eyes.

“It’s alright!” he shouted in her ear. “We’ll get you out!” He wasn’t sure she understood, or if she wanted assistance from him – she made it clear how much she hated him and his mates – but he couldn’t just leave her here. He put an arm protectively around the girl’s shoulder as Paul ushered the fans back and guided the pair to the hotel door through which their companions had disappeared. It was strange – she had such a big presence, so much fire and spirit, that Zayn had never realized just how small she was. Now, as she was pressed into him, he wondered how little he really did know about her. As they crossed into the hotel lobby, he realized she was shaking.

“Are you alright, Viv?”

When she looked up, it took a moment for her eyes to focus, but when they did, she seemed to see him for the first time. She pulled away – more gently than he would’ve expected – and bit her lip, casting her eyes away from him toward her feet.

“I’m… I’m fine.” A deep breath. “Thank you, Zayn. For… For coming back for me.”

“Of course, “ he said softly, surprising them both when he reached up to push a lock of hair from her face. “I couldn’t just let them have you.”

She looked back at the doors through which they’d come. “They love us.”

“Love hurts.”

“That it does.” The silence lasted only a moment before she continued, all traces of gentility gone. “The girls’ll be waiting for me upstairs.”

As Zayn watched her walk away, he couldn’t help thinking that he’d never seen eyes like hers, and he wondered if he’d ever see a smile in them.



Vivian all but ran away from Zayn in the lobby, and she made it up to her room and slammed the door behind her before anyone could utter three words to her – though all of her bandmates had tried as she passed. She slid down the door and put her head between her knees, trying to steady the world around her. Her breathing was finally normal when the knock came.

“Viv?”

The redhead got to her feet and opened the door, giving a weak smile to Sam as she pushed her way in.

“God, Viv!” The blonde wrapped her arms around Vivian’s shoulders. “Are you okay? By the time we realized you weren’t there, we couldn’t even see you, and –“

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“How did you even get away?”

Vivian took a minute in responding. “One of them came back for me – Zayn did. He saw them grabbing at me, I guess.”

Sam smiled, and there was a strange look in her eye when she responded, “I guess they’re not all bad, huh?” She fiddled with her repaired necklace in the way she did whenever she was lost in thought.

“Somehow I feel like you already felt that way, Sam.”

The other girl’s brown eyes suddenly became steel. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, and you’ve been avoiding the issue like the plague. What the bloody hell happened with Horan?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Something happened!”

“Did not!”

“Sam!”

“He was there for me!” Sam’s raised voice echoed in the room and Vivian felt like she’d been slapped. Sam never raised her voice – not to the girls, anyway. She was fierce to the world, but not to them. She seemed to notice Vivian’s shock, though, and she sat down next to her on the large hotel bed. “I’m sorry, Vivi” – nobody ever called Vivian “Vivi” unless something was wrong – “it’s just… I was having a really tough time, and he found me and pulled me back from the edge that day.”

Vivian was quiet for a long time. “I’m sorry, Sam.” The other girl looked at her in confusion. “That should have been us. We should’ve been there for you.”

“Well, you almost got eaten by rabid fan-zombies today and we weren’t there, so let’s call it even?” Vivian laughed abruptly at her friend, her eyes sparkling as she hugged the girl she’d come to see as family.

“Deal! But I do have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

Vivian raised an eyebrow at the utterly American term before braving the question on her mind. “So, Niall, then… Do you, you know?” The other girl’s face was blank. “I mean, do you fancy him, then?”

Sam’s face changed abruptly – her eyes narrowed and her mouth set. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vivian didn’t get the chance to say anything else, because Sam was up and out in a whirlwind of motion. As she watched her friend go, Vivian thought that maybe she ought to apologize to the Irish lad for how they’d treated him when he’d brought Sam back.



That night was a sleepless one for Zayn, full of tossing and turning. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw hers, and it drove him crazy. He recalled things that he'd never noticed realizing in the first place - the tattoo that peeked out on her shoulder blade when she bent over a piano, though he had no inkling of what it might be; the way she sat with her head against the window, as if trying to be as close to the world as he could; the way her fingers moved as if they were whispering over the keys, no matter what she might be doing; the way she'd raise her chin just slightly in defiance at the world; the superior glint in her eyes as she taunted him with random quotes or toyed with him for reasons unknown.

And then, unbidden, the raw look in her eyes when he'd come back for her that day. The look that told him there was so much more to her, so much he didn't know. She had never seemed so vulnerable to him before.

She was infuriating, it was true, but he couldn’t find it in himself to keep denying that she was beautiful.