An Empty Everything

It’s true, what everyone’s saying. That Kinsey VonOuthend is the worst thing that’s ever happened to my life. Maybe, if she hadn’t been such a bloody goddamn coward, she could’ve been one of the best things to happen to me. But instead, Kinsey played her games and ran away with her tail between her legs when things didn’t go her way. Half of her was perfect, a quarter of her was a mystery, and the other quarter of her was pure rubbish. It took me ages to finally admit to myself that Kinsey was not a good person. She had these eyebrows, steep and slanting, that always made her look like she was up to no good. Her face was the most gorgeous lightning strike of mischief, and I knew the very moment I met Kinsey that there was something off about her. But I also knew when I met her that this was a girl who would change everything, a girl after whom I’d never be the same. She was beautiful and interesting, and I had no idea what I was getting into.

Kinsey was very up-front. What you saw was what you got, so I guess I should’ve been more careful from the start. She had those slanting, smug eyebrows that suggested she knew the most wonderful secret about you, and her mouth was almost always in a devilish smirk. She had these big, heavy-lidded hazel eyes that were never the same color twice and she’d stare at you and you’d know you were done for. I should’ve known to stay away from her, really. The lads even tried to warn me. When they all first met Kinsey, I knew she rubbed them the wrong way. But they were polite enough, chatting to her and giving her stale smiles. It was Zayn who first said something to me, the day after I’d brought her round to meet the lot of them. Like everything about Kinsey, I remember that distinctly.

“That girl we met yesterday, she’s the one you’re so mental over?” Zayn had asked quietly. I didn’t know why he was practically whispering and I smiled broadly in reply, feeling my face turn pink. His face was blank and he took a minute to himself before he responded. “She’s…I don’t know, Niall. There’s something about her.”

“She’ll warm up to you, you’ll like her. I’m sure of it. She’s just different.” I had insisted with an eager smile. Zayn didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He frowned and licked his lips.

“I don’t know, mate. Be careful about her.”

But I didn’t know how to be careful about Kinsey. And, moreover, I didn’t want to be. No matter how fast things were moving, it was always too slow. She was a whirlwind and I was caught up in her, with her devilish smirk and smug eyes. Kinsey wasn’t all bad, of course, or it wouldn’t have lasted very long. In a lot of ways, she was perfect for me. It was ultimately true, though, that she was an enigma; a puzzle with so many pieces I could never think of everything about her at once. And it was in the Post Kinsey Era, with the wounds still open and my heart still sore, that a radio interviewer said to me: “So, Niall, tell us about your girlfriend.”

Before I could consider the question Louis began to laugh, and I thanked almighty God in heaven for Louis Tomlinson. The other lads had tight smiles hidden on their faces, and Harry even let out a small scoff of a chuckle. It was written all over the sneer on Louis’ face that he was about to rip into Kinsey on public radio, and part of me hoped she would hear. “Girlfriend?” Louis scoffed. “Kinsey VonOuthend, Niall’s girlfriend? What rubbish. She is absolutely not his girlfriend, and that’s about the best thing I’ve got to say about her.” He snapped, his lips curling like her name had a vile taste. Just hearing her name brought back a heavy burden onto my body that would’ve sunk me in water like a lead weight. I kept my eyes on the table and tried not to smile in bittersweet victory at Louis dishing out his patented sass.

“I’ve got a bit more to say to her,” Harry grumbled beside me, low so I was the only one to hear. Poor Liam was sitting there shaking his head, probably looking for some way to stop this discussion. I didn’t know if he felt bad for Kinsey or just didn’t want any more gossip. It didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t feel anything anymore, just a numb anesthetic knowing that she was back again, somehow back in my life no matter how I had tried to carefully surgically remove all traces of the Kinsey cancer.

Louis kept going, practically snarling. “Kinsey VonOuthend is not Niall’s girlfriend, never was his girlfriend, and will never be his girlfriend. She’s the poster child for insecurity and she's disgustingly obsessed with herself. She’s manipulative and worthless,” He spat, fuming. “Kinsey VonOuthend is nothing more than a pretty face with an ugly heart, and I dare her to show her face round any of us again. But she’s a proper coward, too, and she’s too afraid to take any bloody responsibility for herself. And to be perfectly honest, any talk about Kinsey is just a waste of my breath.” There was no way they could air that. Was there? Louis leaned back in his chair with fire still in his eyes. I wanted to stand up and applaud him, but I had to be neutral. I sat quietly in my chair as the comments continued, distracting my mind with wonderings of what I’d have for lunch. That was always a reliable distraction. “And as far as that topic, that’s all any of us have to say. Right, lads?” The rest of the group mumbled agreements as Louis made it clear that Kinsey was not up for discussion.

Louis could walk up one side of her and down the other on a public radio show, but I knew no one would believe what we had to say over the gossip slathered all over the tabloids. We had to do damage control, thanks to me. No one would believe that Kinsey wasn’t my girlfriend when there were countless pictures of us together on magazine covers everywhere. It was true, though, because I never properly asked her. I never referred to her as my girlfriend, she never referred to me as her boyfriend, and even though there was a period where we were all but inseparable, nothing was ever official. I’m sure Kinsey was conscious of that and kept it that way on purpose; and knowing it was never “official” is one of the few relieving things about the time I spent on Kinsey, although at the time I had wanted her to be mine so much it was embarrassing. There were loads of photos of us, there was gossip, there were proper dates and nights spent together. But she was never my girlfriend. Someday I hope that an interviewer will ask the right question and say, “What was Kinsey to you?” so that I can finally reply with the biggest smile I’ve ever smiled and answer, “A mistake.”

Worst of all is that even though there was never an official “us”, there was also never an official end. And although everything about her is now remembered as terrible, that wasn’t always true. I wouldn’t have spent my time on her if it had been that way from the start. Kinsey was lovely, and we were happy together. Even though she was confusing and strange and seemed like a troublemaker, she was wonderful and she made me happier than I had been before and have been since. Even though she got death threats from fans, even though “#kinseyvonoutofhere” trended on twitter—which wasn’t very catchy, for the record—and even though she was thrown into the spotlight and suddenly gossiped about constantly, Kinsey was perfect to me. At least, for a little while. It’s true that Kinsey is one of the worst things to ever happen to me. But it’s also true that I am completely, hopelessly, miserably in love with her. And, no matter how it hurts, no matter how it cripples me sometimes, how it takes me by surprise like a rip tide, pulling me out to this insufferable Sea of Kinsey, I can’t fight it off. She could’ve stabbed me in the heart and I’d stand there apologizing for bleeding on her. Because even though she’s damaged me and I don’t believe I’ll ever be fully repaired, I love her. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop myself from loving her.