Open Your Eyes

"So wait," Gemma spoke. "He just kissed you? Out of nowhere?"

I nodded. "Well, after he asked me to start staying in his room with him and I agreed."

"YOU WHAT!?" She shouted. I slapped my hand over her mouth. "Shhhhh! I don't want Harry knowing!" I whispered loudly.

"What are you screaming about?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. I gave my loud mouth of an older cousin the eye as my over protective younger cousin walked in the living room. "About my tattoo!" I exclaimed. Shit. I don't have a tattoo. What the fuck. Talk about loud mouths running in the family.

His eyebrows furrowed. "You have a tattoo? Since when?"

I racked my brain for a time I could have gotten a tattoo. "Uh... Last year. I got two actually." Why did I just blurt that out? Am I stupid or something!?

He let out a 'huh' and chewed on some of the popcorn he had popped for us. "Where are they? What are they of?"

"Isn't one of some Beatles lyrics?" Gemma piped up. I nodded quickly. "Yep, and some Elvis lyrics. Both under my boobs, so you can't see 'em," I rushed out.

"Oh okay." He shrugged. "What do they say?" I'm gonna go with my favorite songs by both of them.

"Um, 'Love me tender, Love me sweet' is on my left side and 'Take these broken wings and learn to fly' is on my right."

"Ahh. Love Me Tender and Blackbird. Wise choices my dear cousin. Wise choices."

Now I have to get those tattoos. He'll bring it up to the lads and then Liam will want to see and when he sees that I don't have them, they'll know I was lying. Bollocks. Why did I have to open my big mouth? I really need to get this diarrhea of the mouth checked out.

Glancing at Gemma, I mouthed, "I'm fucked."

"Way to go big mouth," she mouthed back. "Now you gotta get tattoos."


"Oh my god," I groaned, teeth clenched together. "Holy balls!"

Gemma chuckled. I almost swatted at her but the needles piercing my skin stopped me. She was a right twat. "I thought you had a high tolerance for pain?" She teased. I glared at her.

"People with high pain tolerance say rib tattoos hurt," the artist spoke. "It's right on the bone and I'll admit, it does hurt."

He was covered in tattoos. And I mean covered. He had full sleeves. His knuckles were tattooed and said 'Love' and 'Hate'. He had small different doodles under the words on his fingers. I saw a dead smiley face, yin and yang sign, a heart, a tea cup, a skull, an arrow, a stick figure on a skateboard, and an anchor. I never thought I'd get a tattoo with not being a fan of needles, but here I am. I'm getting 'tatted up.'

"I can't believe I opened my big mouth," I mumbled. "Next time, just tape my mouth shut."

She chuckled as did the artist. "I like seeing you put your foot in your mouth though. It's too much fun."

"Sod off!" I snapped. A few minutes later the tattoo gun stopped buzzing. My ears were ringing from listening to the constant buzzing. He wiped down my side and threw the paper towels in the trash bin. "All done! Go take a look in the mirror!"

Looking in the mirror, a smile appeared on my face. "Holy shit! Thank you so much! They look killer!"

Gemma and the artist grinned at my reaction. So maybe I was a little excited. They were my first tattoos. I had the right to be. Even if I hated needles, I loved my tattoos. Not sure if I'd get more, but who knows.

"All you gotta do is keep unscented lotion on them, maybe eight to nine times a day. Not huge gobs, just a little," he started explaining. "It's normal for it to hurt, burn, scab over, itch, and peel. When it starts peeling, do not peel it and when it itches, do not itch it. That'll make it infected and we don't want that."

I nodded. "Okay. Thanks by the way."

"No problem." He grinned. "If you ever want another one you know where to find me."

I can't believe I just got two tattoos. Holy crap.


Liam
"Yeah, Lennon's dad came and got her last night and took her to spend the week with him," I answered.

All of us lads had got together and spent the day doing interviews. We had one at BBC with Nick Grimshaw, one on the Alan Carr show, and one with a random magazine. We had a few pictures taken for the magazine but that was it. Nothing out of the ordinary. Now all five of us were going back to my place to watch the new football match.

Harry nodded. "It's weird as shit thinking of my Uncle Andrew as a grandpa." It kind of was to be honest. I've met him a few times over the years and he didn't act or look like a grandpa. I'd say the same about Lennon not looking and acting like a mum, but I didn't know how she was before she had Presley.

"He's got his hands full with Presley," Zayn commented. That caused us all to chuckle. We stepped off the lift only to be met by the sound of music. The ever famous Elvis Presley was playing.

The warden threw a party in the county jail. The prison band was there and they began to wail. 
The band was jumpin and the joint began to swing. 
You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing. 
Lets rock, everybody, lets rock. 
Everybody in the whole cell block 
Was dancin to the jailhouse rock—

Harry laughed. "That's her cleaning music." He patted me on the back. "She may or may not be rearranging furniture, so be ready for anything."

Oh god. Please don't have my flat turned upside down.

Spider Murphy played the tenor saxophone. Little Joe was blowin on the slide trombone. 
The drummer boy from Illinois went crash, boom, bang. 
The whole rhythm section was the purple gang.
Lets rock, everybody, lets rock. 
Everybody in the whole cell block 
Was dancin to the jailhouse rock—

We had stepped into a war zone. Everything was all over the place. It looked like a bloody bomb had been set off. There was a box of food sitting by the kitchen doorway. One of my couches was sitting in the entry way and the other was sitting on top of it. My recliners were the same way. Was she secretly 'She Woman' or did she have help?

"Oh my god," I mumbled. Everyone besides Harry was stunned. We cautiously stepped around and over stuff until we made it into the living room. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing the hardwood floors. She sang the words as she cleaned, not noticing us once. Harry reached over and hit pause on the iHome stereo. She kept singing, but immediately stopped when she realized it had been turned off.

"The sad sack was a sittin on a block of stone, way over in the corner weepin all alone—" She immediately snapped her head up. Her eyes were alert but when she saw it was us she calmed down. She sat back on her feet and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I was listening to that, Harold."

"Listening to what? I couldn't hear anything but that dying cat," he smarted back. That caused her to glare at him. "Remember who the older person is here, and who still knows where you keep that stupid teddy bear you love so much, and who isn't afraid to torch shit," she smarted back. It was sickly sweet tone. She got him though. He shut his mouth and narrowed his eyes at her.

"Can you—" She cut me off. "Niall! Those crisps are bad! They went out of date a year ago! They have mold on them!"

He stopped chewing and immediately spit out the chewed up crisps into the bag. He looked like he wanted to throw up and drink some water to wash away any remnants of the old, moldy crisps. "Am I going to die?!" He exclaimed. "I don't want to die! I'm too young and handsome to die! I have my whole life ahead of me!"