Never Say Good-bye

Glitter and glam swarmed in her vision, distorting what was real and what wasn't. Her hand gripped firmly to the back of his cotton shirt as he pushed his way through the gyrating crowd, pulling her half drunk body behind him. An elbow caught her in the ribs and a hand clawed at her arm, her name being slurred from their lips. Lucy.

She heard it in all directions but refused to turn toward any of them. The lights and the smells where making her head swim, adding to the effect that the shots had on her mind. Too many shots and she was usually a mess on the floor, forced to be carried to a cab and waking up with a killer hangover.

Lucy.

More people vying for her attention. But she only wanted one person to look at her. But his cobalt blues refused to meet her dark browns. Unsure of why he was even there, she followed him into the hallway where the washrooms where. He slammed open the door to the men's room and checked it was empty before his rough hands yanked her into the single stalled room. The smell made her gag, her mind blurred by her drinks and other things she'd ventured in tonight.

"Why are you here, Lucy?" he growled at her, his brogue thick with emotions unsure to them both. Lucy swore she heard regret and even a twinge of longing there, but couldn't place it in her state. She shrugged and even that act setting her unsteady on her feet. "You're so stupid, Luce. Why did you follow me here?"

"You wouldn't answer the mail I sent," she slurred at him, swaying on her feet before crumpling to the floor. "You ignored me."

"I don't want to see you again. I told you that when I left."

"You lied. I can always tell when you lie, Niall." Her brown eyes lifted to meet his blues. Twisting her blonde hair away from her face, she lifted herself up to stand up, resting her hand against the cold tile wall to support her. His hand reached out to steady her before snapping back and sliding it into his pocket.

He watched her, worried. Her cheeks were flushed from the drinks and her eyes wild from the drugs he saw her take. That infuriated him, how she'd gone right back to her old self the moment he left. But he had to blame that on himself. No one else. He'd kept her sober than just left with harsh words. He had only himself to blame. She hadn't anyone else to keep an eye on her. He'd been there since the beginning. He'd been there for everything and just left one day without more than an "I don't care anymore."

"Niall?" she asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He focused on her, seeing how her eyes drooped and her face looked skunked. Sick. She looked sick.

"Niall! I did it! Two weeks sober," she said to him as she came out of the clinic, holding a ribbon in her hand as she jumped into his arms.

"That's my Princess," he said in return, smiling at her with such warmth and love it cold melt the December snow around them. "I'm so proud of you. I told you that you could do this with the right help."

"I have no one else to thank but you. And it'll be good for her," she said, reaching down to rub her swollen stomach. His eyes roamed her face, noting the color. She looked healthy and glowing. "I just hope she's okay when she's born."

"She will be," he assured her.

Closing his eyes, Niall reached to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling the tension sliding into his shoulders and neck the longer he stood looking at her. The cocktail he's thrown back a few moments ago churned in his empty stomach at the flashback. How could it have happened the way it did?

"I'm sorry, Lucy," he whispered as the door slammed behind him.