An Empty Everything

The visit to Kinsey’s family in Manchester was always an important point to me. For one thing, it was like a video clip in my brain of when she’d said she loved me. I could remember exactly how the light touched her face, warming her smooth skin and making the facets of her eyes sparkle. I could precisely remember each mermaid-like strand of hair that splayed out around her and tickled my face. The corners of her room and the tangle of blankets on her bed, the constant noise of her house, the light perfume scent of her bedroom air. Every delicate trace of her fingertips left an invisible scar for me never to forget exactly how she grazed my skin when we lay there in her bed. And of course, the tiny music notes of her voice when she said it. You know, Niall, she’d begun with her lips barely moving, I really do love you. It repeated over and over in my head. She really did love me. I could’ve floated away, I felt so light.

That was also the first day I met her family. It wasn’t really a proper event, more Kinsey showing up as a sort of “fuck you” gesture, so there weren’t many warm feelings going around. Sicily followed me around and blushed when I’d wink at her, but eventually sat in my lap and talked my ear off until she was having trouble speaking without yawning. I enjoyed her younger brother, Oliver; he ate an entire bag of greasy crisps and then went to the cabinet to open a new bag, all while groaning and yelling at the football match he was watching. He was loud, fun, and liked to talk, and I liked him instantly. Langley seemed like more of a robot than a person, and Kinsey just huffed at whatever he said half the time. Her mother was a piece of work, though. She was a beautiful woman, and Harry probably would’ve loved her. But she also downed an entire bottle of wine and disappeared to her bedroom without emerging after I arrived with Kinsey. Everyone’s family had troubles, and I knew that. But Kinsey’s family put me on edge.

Somehow, of course, word was out that I was in Manchester and that the basis of the visit led back to Kinsey. I don’t really remember how it came up at all, but I do remember Kinsey looking at her mobile and laughing before putting it down and shaking her head. I only saw a glimpse before her screen darkened, but I could make out some nasty comments, the occasional neutral words or even cheerful, positive commentary, a few pictures, and one stupid bloody thing I’d also never forget: #kinseyvonoutofhere as a trending topic. Initially I just thought it was really, absolutely dumb because it wasn’t even catchy or clever. Then I felt bad that I let this happen to her, because it was my fault, honestly; and after that we joked and had a laugh, and Kinsey said “I don’t know why I bother with social media” and I kissed her sloppily on the lips. And that was that.

Finally, the last major thing to happen from the visit was that I got sick. I was very unhappy about that too. I noticed the day after I got back to my own home that I felt groggy and tired more than normal, I kept getting chills, my throat was rough and scratchy, and my head was pounding worse than any hangover I’d ever experienced. It was another day or so and I was barely able to get myself out of bed, and I was furious about it. I didn’t have time to be sick. Even worse, Kinsey suddenly thought herself to be a social butterfly and was going on all sorts of adventures: drinks with Perrie (I’m not sure what Zayn thought of this), shopping with Eleanor (not sure what Louis thought of this, either), lunch dates with old friends and new friends and whoever else she was suddenly friends with. And I was left to be miserable and sick all by myself. I was quite grumpy about it all, and she came home one day with bags on her arm and her cheeks flushed from the wind and I just scowled at her from my pillow.

“You’re moving out,” I stated, grumbling with as much conviction as I could manage with my lips smashed against my pillow. “And I’m alerting the media that we’re no longer together,” She laughed loudly and looked at me, waiting for what else I had to complain about. “What good are you to me anymore, leaving me all alone to die a slow, miserable death here?” Kinsey smiled an easy, advertisement type of smile and slowly put her bags down.

It was only a few minutes before she was crouched in front of me, a thermometer in her hand and a cup of tea on the night table, a concentrated frown on her face. “Can’t have you getting sick, Niall,” She murmured with a flash of a smile before forcing the thermometer in my mouth. “I’m not sure how long I can last not giving you kisses.” She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to my lazy lips, then stood up.

When she stood up she wriggled out of her jeans and peeled off her shirt, shaking out her hair and shrugging another baggy top on before crawling onto the space beside me in bed. She pulled the thermometer out of my mouth and raised her eyebrows, but wouldn’t tell me what it said. I couldn’t bring myself to move, so I just watched her slink under the sheets and curl up beside me.

“Christ, you’re burning up,” She laughed as I pushed an arm underneath her to pull her closer, the skin of her back cold against my arm. “Drink that tea, love, and take those pills; it’ll help your fever.” I just huffed in reply and buried my head into her stomach, tightening my grip on her waist.

She shifted to twist away from me and I heaved a heavy sigh. When I looked up, she was holding the tea and two pills in her palm. “Come on, behave yourself or I’ll get out of this bed and let you fester all by yourself.” She was bluffing, I could tell by the little sparkle in her eye when she smirked. I took the pills and sipped a few gulps of tea before flopping back down to the pillow, groaning at her.

Although I was miserable, there was something about me that enjoyed being sick, because it meant Kinsey would stay around. That’s a bit twisted, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I liked how she’d brush her fingers through my hair to help me fall asleep, and let me rest my cheek against her stomach because her skin felt cool against mine. She’d sit on top of the covers, cross-legged, and force me to sit up and eat, but I’d never do it unless she held the toast patiently and let me nibble bites as I pleased. All I wanted to do was sleep, and I know it had to make her restless, but she stayed anyway because I felt so much better when I had her body to hold on to. I would wake up in the middle of the day, probably drooling on her collarbone, and she’d be there as patient as ever. Reading a book, watching the telly, or just lying there so I didn’t have to be by myself. I might’ve dragged it out for a day or so longer than I was actually sick because I liked being able to do nothing. I liked her bringing me plates of food in bed when I’d pretend not to be hungry, or her peeling my shirt off and telling me I was too hot (and I’d make some joke that she’d scoff at but smile anyway). But she caught on one morning, after it had been a few days, and she put a plate of eggs on the nightstand and jutted out her hip, crossing her arms.

“You’re a rotten faker,” She quirked one eyebrow. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, you little shit?” I couldn’t help but laugh and I stretched my arms out to grab her hips. “You’re going to get bedsores if you don’t drag your sorry arse out of there.”

I whined and tugged on her hips until she gave in and collapsed on top of me in a heap of limbs. “Oh Kinsey,” She whined, imitating my voice. I laughed more. “Me trousers are making me too hot, take them off, would ya love? Oh Kinsey, babe, I’m miserable, I’ve never been so miserable. Kinny, don’t leave, where are you going? Bring me some tea, Kinny. Come back to bed, Kins. Babe, come on. Kinsey, Kinsey, Kinsey,” I was laughing so hard I could hardly breathe. She was rubbish at accents. She rolled her eyes and looked at me pointedly. “I’m surprised you didn’t have me pulling your pants out of your arsecrack, you tosser.”

“I don’t sound like that!” I rolled onto my back and grinned at her. She tried to make her face serious, but I pinched her sides and she squirmed to fight back a laugh. “To be fair, I was right miserable.”

“Yeah, for maybe a day,” Kinsey rolled her eyes. “Then you got comfortable and thought you could play some games with me.”

“Hmm,” I mumbled, reaching up to put a hand on her cheek. “It worked though, didn’t it? Got you to stick around for a bit.” My smile was lopsided, one corner of my mouth tugging up while my eyes flicked over her face. Her face mirrored the action as she placed her hand over mine on her cheek, curling her fingers into mine.

“A bit, I reckon,” She said quietly, kissing my fingertips.

“You’re always leaving.” I joked. I brushed my thumb across the smooth skin of her cheek, feeling how her face moved when she smiled.

She winked then and stood up, pecking a kiss on my forehead and flouncing out the door of my room. At the moment it seemed playfully flirty, the way she walked away like that. I should’ve thought for even one fucking second though, because she’d just spelled it all out for me. She was always leaving. I knew she was always leaving, and so did she. And what did she do when I joked about it? She left. But instead of thinking of this, I was thinking about how she’d worn a skirt today, and the fabric of it fell against her bum in a way that made me smirk when I watched her walk away. I was thinking about the skirt and her body under it, and considering jumping up to go after her and scoop her up and throw her back onto the bed. I was thinking about taking her clothes off, and she was thinking about leaving me. I wanted to drag my hands across her skin and kiss along her neck. I wanted to bite gently on her full bottom lip and push her skirt up and make her cheeks flush. I wanted to give her millions of reasons to stay. And she wanted to destroy me. I just wanted her to be here all the time, and she was already a ghost in my arms.

Of course these thoughts didn’t strike me until I had a reason to look back and analyze every hint she ever gave me. It was all just a game then, just Kinsey and me playing jokes on each other with everything we did. I think it was Louis who had said, once, “You’re like bloody wrestling fox cubs, the two of you”; and of course Kinsey had piped up, “Kits! They’re called kits, Lou, that’s what baby foxes are called,” and she’d smiled brightly as Louis gave her an even stare of disinterest in return. And then I’d scooped her up from wherever she’d been and threw her over my shoulder to tickle the back of her knees.

When she’d flounced out of my room she began to make a lot of noise in the kitchen, and when I followed her I saw her preparing something on the counter with a mild smile twisting her lips like she was waiting to tell the punch line of a joke. I reached out to swipe my finger into the contents of the bowl, and Kinsey shrieked.

“You’re an animal!” She cried out with a voice like I’d just thrown a puppy off the Cliffs of Moher. Her face was equally as devastated, and I hadn’t even licked my finger off yet.

“I—I’m sorry?” I raised an eyebrow, my batter-coated finger hovering by my mouth as I waited for her permission.

Kinsey sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. “You can’t eat uncooked batter, Niall! You just got over being sick, do you want to be sick again? That’s so bad for you! And I was trying to surprise you, but of course you just sneak up and get—”

I shoved the batter-covered finger in her mouth mid-sentence. I couldn’t help but grin, but Kinsey’s eyebrows knotted together. She bit down on my finger and elbowed me in the ribs, turning away from the counter to fold her arms in a challenge, scowling and saying, “You think you’re clever, do you? Hmm? Think you’re funny?”

I had to laugh, because it was kind of funny. After a second her scowl faltered and she sputtered out a laugh. “That batter, actually, is missing something…I need to add more cocoa, what do you think, love?” She dipped her finger into the bowl, but rather than having me taste the batter she smeared it across my cheek with a devilish grin.

“Yeah, Kin, more cocoa would really do the trick.” I shoved my hand into the bowl and smudged a giant streak of cake batter across her cheek too, putting a dot on the tip of her nose. She squealed and shrank back, laughing and clutching the bowl to get away.

“Come on, Kinsey!” I yelled, grabbing her waist and picking her up. She tossed her head back, laughing and squirming with the bowl full of cake batter still clutched in her arms. I put her down and kissed her cheek, and she jumped back, grinning.

“I’m going to pour this in your hair! And I hope you can’t wash it out for weeks!” She laughed, turning away when I tried to grab her. “I hope it gets really warm out, like really warm, and you have cake batter in your hair, and cupcakes start baking on your head in the sun! I hope that’s what happens to you!” She could hardly form words because she was laughing so hard, and I had chocolate cake batter still coating my fingers, and she could only hold up a hand to try and fight me off because she had flopped onto the floor laughing.

“Kinsey, just put some more cocoa in the batter, for Christ’s sake.” I smirked and streaked batter on her face like war paint. “Honestly, I could do it myself.”

Kinsey went to wipe a tear of laughter off her cheek and ended up smudging more batter across her face. “Niall James Horan you are the worst! The absolute worst, do you hear me? I try to do something nice for you—”

I grabbed her jaw and pulled her face to mine and kissed her, connecting her mouth with mine until she stopped shaking with laughter and I could feel her lips faintly smiling against me. When she draped her arms around my neck I pulled back, looking at her chocolate-covered face.

“I think you need some more cocoa in that batter, Kinsey.” I said quietly, watching as her smile slowly developed and widened.

She bit down on her lip, still smiling, and reached out a hand to pull me down beside her. I sat and she rested her head on my shoulder, both of us now chocolate messes painted up with nearly dry cake batter. Kinsey hummed softly, intertwining our chocolate-covered fingers and draping her legs over mine, hooking her chin onto my shoulder to look up at me with wide doe eyes.

“I really love you,” She murmured, reaching up to rub some chocolate off of my face.

I knew my face lit up because my smile spread the length of my lips. But for some reason the way she said it sounded like a cliffhanger; like she was waiting to finish with “I’m sorry”. Her mouth moved into a small curve, a regretful type of smile that scared me, and she fluttered her eyes back down. Kinsey could handle anything, it seemed, except love. She didn’t know how to love, and she didn’t know how to be loved. I was trying, and she was learning, but she was also scared and I could see it in her doe eyes: deer in headlights, paralyzed and glassy, terrified but unable to get out of the way. With her face blotched with sloppy cake batter, she rolled her head to rest on my shoulder again and I couldn’t help but wonder about her. If she was so difficult with love, so unable to understand it and even more crippled at receiving it, why was this so easy? She was changing, filling up the holes inside her, and I think it frightened her. Because otherwise, I don’t think she knew how to love anyone, and she certainly wouldn’t have said it out loud. She was learning and changing, and she didn’t know what to do about anything. I could already tell, too, that she was the type to run off when she got scared. And Kinsey, charming and flirtatious and everything I never knew I wanted, was scared of love.