Hope for the Hopeless

It was as if Niall had cloned himself four more times when I got to his house. They were just there, in the living room, screaming and jumping around like lunatics. 6 ft. tall lunatics. Looking at them almost depleted the remaining energy I had. It was my first time seeing the other three guys, a curly haired one, the scruffy one and the other scruffy one with a rather disheveled hair. The other one, Zayn, I remember him well. He took the liberty of introducing me to his mates.

He’d spoken in a weird accent. “This is Arya; she works around here for Niall.”

And then the string of never-ending questions followed. “Are you the loony chick?” “Did you really smash his windshield?” “Girl, you are mad but cute” okay, the last one wasn’t exactly a question, but that’s not the point. Zayn waved them off and said his majesty was on the kitchen, cooking.

“I’m here” I announced, setting my things down on the counter.

He didn’t even bother turning around. “Lend me a hand ‘ere, will ya.” I absolutely had no idea what he was cooking but it did smell good. Gluttony was a bitch and so was life.

“What exactly is the occasion? There are only five of you, yet you’re cooking for, like, an entire village.” I said.

Niall only laughed at this. “Missy, you have no idea.”

Approximately 30 minutes after, they’d gathered around the dining table and feasted on Niall’s cooking. I’d be lying if I said that the food did not look enticing one bit, because it was. It took a lot from me to suppress the rising feeling of hunger in my stomach and fight the exhaustion all at the same time. This was absolutely no less than torture, and they knew.

“Miss Arya, would you care to join us?” Curly-wurly asks.

I was now comfortably seated on the lazy-boy by the living room and no amount scrumptious lunch was going to get me out of the heavenly chair. “No thank you, kind sir. I already had lunch.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. We saved a plate for ya, love.” He replied.

They finished their food, cleaned up and moved to living room. Eventually, amidst their one and half hour meal, I’d give into the overwhelming tiredness and had fallen asleep. I woke up on scruffy (with less hair) and curly-wurly towering over me. “What?” my voice had turned flat and hoarse.

“She’s pretty cute, isn’t she Liam?” Curly-wurly spoke silently.

“She sure is.” Scruffy, whose actual name was Liam, agreed.

With eyebrows furrowed and a very dry throat, I retorted “I can hear you, you know.” They only laughed at my helplessness and went away. I’m completely and utterly burnt-out from yesterday’s happenings. Last night was nothing less than a challenge and Niall made sure I wasn’t able to get any proper sleep from all the farting he did. This day’s headed for unproductive, so I figured I might as well excuse myself rather than forcing out what’s left of my vibe.

“Niall, hey.” Walking to the kitchen where he was at was already an obstacle. I had to drag my feet to get there. He didn’t bother turning around but he probably heard, so I just went ahead and told him. “I’m not feeling well, so I’ll just head home and come back tomorrow okay? Sorry, I just need to get some rest.”

With that, he turned to me right away and started touching my forehead, neck and the rest of my face. He then started asking me if I was feeling okay or if I needed to go to the hospital and have myself checked up. “I’m fine, Niall. I just need sleep.” I replied, my voice flat.

“I’ll drive you there.” He offered and I, of course, politely refused. But he pressed on.

“I broke your windshield, buddy. Do you really wanna let me go near your car?” I tried to joke; he didn’t even fake a smile. This made me figure this was serious matter to him now. The guy probably didn’t want his friends thinking he was abusive of my health. So I complied and we headed back to my apartment in his car.

As we reached the edifice, he even opened the car door and helped me out which was completely unnecessary but I had to give it to the guy for going out of his way to help. “Thanks.” I mumbled, before walking towards the door. His gaze was on me; I could feel it but decided to ignore the fact. The awkward feeling had settled in my guts as I twisted the knob open and went in.

Three steps from the door and the buzzer rang. Instinctively, I went and looked to see who it was. Surprised to see blond-boy Barbie standing outside, I opened the door wide-eyed and wondering. “Uh, need anything?” I asked after a short few seconds. He didn’t respond, he just shifted his gaze to me and then to the ground as if he was trying to come up with something. I shrugged the thought off.

But there was something unusual lingering in the boy’s eyes. Utter annoyance? Why, because I’ve been an inconvenience today? He was the one who’d offered help anyway, it’s not like he was given the obligation to take me home. But really, it wasn’t annoyance. It was something else. Something he and I would never admit aboveboard.

He might have actually cared. Might have. My thoughts were too filled with befuddlement and exhaustion that his mere presence at the doorway was starting to tire me even more. I was about to bid him goodbye and thank him again so I could carry on to my reunion with the bed when he finally spoke—with so much jitters in his voice.

“Would you mind if I stay? I mean, just until you’re feeling well again.”