Pawn Shop Blues

Finals week was suddenly upon them, in a whirlwind of everything else. Olivia could hardly remember where the time had gone when her professors began announcing final projects and examinations. Soon enough, she was cloistered in her room and the library and the studio, trying to pump out enough inspiration to suit her professors needs. A final self portrait for her painting class. A series of figure studies for drawing. A collection of short stories for creative writing. Years and years of art history, northern baroque, one of her favorites.

Still, so much left to do.

It came to the last week before due dates and Olivia was spent. Niall had distanced himself in his business and she in hers. He’d still text her from time to time but often Olivia forgot to reply, and when she’d call him to apologize she’d instead get his voicemail. As disappointing as it all was, Olivia found it hard to be anything other than stressed.

Not to mention Daria was in the strangest mood, but rightfully so. Just short off a mental breakdown, having spent time in the hospital for her anxiety, she finally told Harry that she was a little mentally unwell (though rightfully so). And instead of pulling her closer, it appeared that Harry was distancing himself. The last thing Daria needed.

And Daria’s stress was the last thing Olivia needed.

“Come on!” she urged herself, bashing her head against her knees a few times to try and get the inspiration flowing. She had a half-finished self portrait sitting in front of her, abstract and not entirely satisfying.

It was hard to work in a space that was half-packed up for your best friend to go home to across the Pacific. In just a few short days, Daria would be leaving her. And then Olivia didn’t know what she would do.

“Olivia!” Just then, Daria’s voice beckoned into the room, the door swinging open to reveal her best friend looking a little haphazard herself.

“Daria…” Olivia moaned weakly, and banged her head against her knees a few more times.

“Let’s get out of here,” Daria suggested urgently after a moment, going to pack her rucksack with a few necessary items. “Let’s have a change of scenery.”

“But where?” Olivia questioned, trailing paint along her bangs as she pushed them out of her face.

“I know just the place,” Daria hummed, a few feet away from her. She turned to give Olivia a small smile, crossed the room in a few steps, and then placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“Get your things together, we’re going on a train ride.”



Zayn Malik’s house was insane. The sight of it nearly took the breath right from Olivia’s lungs – just the sheer elegance of it, for being Zayn’s. She’d never imagined she would set foot in as many amazing homes as she did in six months. Litzy’s in Sloan Square, Harry’s in North London, now Zayn’s. She didn’t think she, little Olivia McGuiness from Downpatrick, would ever know this kind of luxury.

“Thank you for having us,” Daria said to Zayn sweetly as she dropped her belongings in the doorway to give him a hug.

“Thank you for inviting yourself over,” Zayn replied, giving her top knot a couple squeezes before moving onto Olivia. She greeted Zayn warmly, letting him take her in his arms and pick at the paint on her cheeks teasingly. She gasped, reaching up to the spot. She’d come all the way there with paint on her face and Daria hadn’t told her!

“Niall and Harry should be here eventually,” Zayn explained, and with his words Olivia’s heart skipped. The rest of his sentence was droned out by a buzzing in her ears, that same blood-turned-to-champagne feeling coursing through her veins. Niall was coming. And she had paint on her face.

“Sorry I’m late,” that familiar voice greeted in its Irish lilt, sending a chill up her spine. She turned from Zayn just in time to see Niall cross the threshold in those ridiculous white Dunks to kiss Daria on the cheek in greeting. “I’m absolutely starving. Please tell me we’re gonna have snacks.”

Just as he said that, the pair made eye contact across the foyer. Olivia gave Niall the most winning smile she could muster. And in return, he grinned back, those bright blue eyes lighting up the instant they met.

“Liv,” he greeted crossing the space between them to say hello. And this time, much to her surprise, he pressed a kiss to the height of her cheekbone. Her nerves fluttered. Over Niall’s shoulder, she caught Zayn raise his eyebrows cheekily at Daria – neither of them knew that they had been talking. Olivia was amazed at her ability to keep a secret, and inwardly marveled that Niall didn’t brag around to the lads that they were talking. Not that she was anything to brag about anyway.

“Where have you been?” he asked her quietly.

“I could ask the same question of you,” she quipped in her flirtiest tone.

“Where’s Harry?” Zayn questioned as he closed the door, interrupting their hushed conversation. He coming separately, Niall explained, and Olivia watched hopelessly as Daria’s face fell at the news. In the one time that she needed Harry, Harry was nowhere to be found, so it seemed. Later could not come soon enough.

It was immediately back to work as Daria opened her Populations textbook and Olivia hauled in her supplies and set up shop on a tarp in a cozy room towards the back of the house. While Zayn kept Daria company at the table by occasionally throwing Moams wrappers in her line of sight, Niall sat next to Olivia to watch her work. His proximity made her skin prick.

“God, you’re brilliant,” he complimented as she painted the reflection she saw of herself in the mirror. “You know that?”

Olivia blushed. “Brilliant is maybe a strong word, Niall,” she pressed again, shrugging off his compliment with a slight of hand. She glanced over to him to see him glancing at her in return, his eyes returning to her reflection in the mirror as soon as he caught her gaze.

“So this is what you’ve been doing all this time I haven’t heard from you?” he asked, gesturing to the painting. Olivia nodded feebly.

“Yeah,” she responded. “Along with a collection of short stories, a series of figure studies, and studying the entire history of northern baroque art.”

Niall whistled.

“It’s definitely a lot,” she agreed, painting a few short strokes of color across the page of her abstract interpretation. “But most days I still feel like the luckiest girl in the world. To go to university and such.”

He grinned at her. “Sometimes I wish I got to try that life,” he hummed softly, casting his gaze back to the painting. “I hope I never feel like I missed out on anything.”

Olivia let out a wry laugh. “Missed out on anything!” she repeated incredulously. “You’re living the dream! Lest we forget you couldn’t answer me calls when I tried to apologize for never being around!”

“You think that was because I was with the band?” he questioned in a mock astonished tone. “I was at the stables, practicing so I can out race you and Einin next time we have a go!”

Olivia laughed again, only this time more sincerely. “Einin will still run circles around you, no matter how hard you practice.” And with that, she swiped a blue streak of paint down Niall’s nose. He cried out in protest before they both fell into laughter.

“When are we eating dinner?” he complained as he attempted to wipe some of the paint back on Olivia’s cheek.

“You’re a bottomless pit,” Olivia countered before Zayn could answer. “You’d think you could get a bit of meat on your bones for how much you eat, you know.”

“I have an unusually fast metabolism,” he countered, ducking his head to brush his nose against her skin, finally catching her with paint right on the corner of her lip. Her nerves ran wild at his touch.

“If you two get paint on anything other than each other, I swear,” Zayn threatened before leaving with Daria to go to the kitchen and make dinner. Olivia gave Daria a small smile as she walked past, and Daria did her best to do the same. But Olivia could see straight through her after all those months – Daria was upset; Harry still had yet to appear and they’d had no word from him.

“I worry about her,” Olivia murmured to Niall in hushed tones once she was sure the other pair was gone. “Leaving all of this behind and going back home to such a sad place. She deserves so much better than that.”

Niall turned to her and studied her face, the corners of his full lips tugging down just a foot away from her own. His eyebrows knit together in worry, prodding her along to continue.

“I feel awful,” Olivia murmured, more to herself than even to Niall. “She needs someone so desperately to hold her hand through all this. She’s been so brave and alone for way too long, and now Harry is being a proper prick.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Niall sighed, leaning back against the couch behind them. “But it’s not your responsibility.”

“But it is,” Olivia argued defiantly, setting down her paintbrush on the tray. “It is my problem. She’s my best friend. I want to give her the world she deserves but I can’t. I have so much going on. I have so much to take care of. But I need to figure out how to drop it all so I can be there for her, since no one else will.”

Niall fell silent again, his eyes travelling all across her expression with a searching glint in them. Olivia wondered what was going on in his head, whether she would ever learn how to read him when his mood took that turn – from nearly idiotic happiness to stoic emotion.

“I reckon you don’t do nearly enough for yourself, Liv,” he breathed finally, his voice a sigh as he gave her a smile. “It’s people like you who deserve the world.”