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It’s always crazy backstage after a huge show, but as Niall just experienced what could possibly be called his worst performance yet, things feel slightly more hectic to him tonight. His four best mates lead him away from the stage, a combination of utterly furious and almost comically doting. Zayn and Liam have taken hold of each of his arms, dragging him along, and Louis follows him with a series of little leaps and hops, patting his back and smoothing his hair as they walk.
“What the hell was that?” Harry shouts, stomping over to a couple of Modest reps. The others hang back with Niall, watching from several feet away. “Why was his mic off?”
One of the management people looks taken aback. Niall doesn’t blame her. For one thing, she’s so new that Niall doesn’t recognize her. And for another, it only took about five seconds for Harry to transform from charming boyband member to maniacal mother bear. His sweaty curls are sticking up at odd angles and his eyes are blazing. If he wasn’t feeling so sick to his stomach right now, Niall would almost feel like laughing.
“Calm down, would you? We’ll discuss this at the meeting tomorrow,” the other rep-Jack-says. He pats Harry on the shoulder before turning to the rest of them. “Time to get going, boys. You’ve got a signing in twenty.”
“Calm down?” Louis calls after him. “How’re we supposed to calm down?”
But Jack has already stalked off, dragging the new girl with him. Liam and Zayn drop Niall’s arms and all four of the boys start after Jack, but Niall shakes his head.
“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Don’t bother.”
“Are you sure, mate?”
“We can make them talk to us, if you’d like.”
“Nah, it’s fine, really. Listen, I have to go to the loo and then I think I’m just going to get someone to drive me home. Tell the fans I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, yeah?” Niall replies. As an afterthought, he tacks on a muttered, “headache,” before slipping away.
The second he’s out of sight of the backstage craziness, Niall starts to cry. Fat, round tears roll down his cheeks and he realizes that he has absolutely no clue where he is because, to be quite frank, his sense of direction is pretty bad under normal circumstances and right now he’s having a bit of a mental breakdown. Beginning to panic under the need to get away, and quickly, Niall starts running down an empty hall. He doesn’t even really care, at this point, where he ends up. He just knows he needs to get out.
After what feels like ages, he ends up standing before a men’s restroom. Sobbing, he pushes the door open and lurches inside. Leaning against the counter, he stares at his reflection in the mirror on the wall. The sight of his red, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks sparks an inexplicable fury inside of him.
“You’re so fucking ugly,” he spits at himself. “Ugly and stupid.”
He slides to the floor, sobbing hysterically. He cries for so long and so hard that he’s afraid he might actually be sick.
It’s not you, Ni. Liam’s words echo in his head and that does it. He stands, throws himself into a stall and retches into the toilet.
The door behind him crashes open and Niall hears Louis and maybe Zayn from somewhere that sounds very far away, but he can’t stop throwing up and so he doesn’t even bother trying to hide.
“Oh, Niall, love,” comes Louis’ voice from behind him.
Someone forces their way into his stall, rubs small circles on his back until he’s done. Niall wipes his mouth with his arm (pig his brain whispers) and turns to bury his head in Liam’s chest.
“Sorry,” he sobs, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I’m not good enough.”
“No, no, Niall, that’s not what you think is it? This isn’t your fault, I swear,” Zayn says.
“It’s management, Nialler, they’re all pricks. We’ll fix this, I promise,” comes Harry’s voice.
“Come on, love, what do you need?” Louis asks.
Niall’s sure, if the way his breathing has slowed to a normal rate is any indication at all, that all he needs is for Liam to keep holding him like this until he falls asleep. Since that’s not really an option, though, he just shakes his head.
“Wanna go home,” he whispers. “Please, Liam?”
“Of course. We already told them we’re not doing a signing tonight. Let’s go,” Liam grabs Niall’s hand and shifts so that he’s forced to raise his head.
Embarrassed, Niall keeps his eyes trained on the ground as Liam leads him from the stall. He refuses to look at the others even when a kiss is pressed to his neck, a hand run through his hair. He’s just so humiliated.
“C’mon, Nialler. Paul’s going to drive us,” Harry tells him.
They meet Paul in the hallway and Niall receives a rough hug and an awkward pat on the back.
“Come on kid, let’s get you home,” Paul says, and Niall is grateful that it’s the end of the conversation.
Twenty minutes later they’re back in Zayn’s hotel room with Niall curled in a ball on the bed. His face is buried in a pillow, his legs curled to his chest. He’s seriously considering whether smothering himself might be a valid way to escape the inevitable awkwardness that tomorrow will bring when one side of the bed sinks under the weight of another body.
“Niall, can we talk?” Zayn whispers, apparently to avoid waking him if he’s already fallen asleep.
Pfft. Not likely.
“No,” Niall moans.
“Ah, Nialler, we just want to make sure you’re okay,” Zayn coos.
“I’m okay.”
“Are you, though? Come on, let us talk to you. We’ll all cuddle. One big happy family.”
Well, okay. To be perfectly honest, this is an offer that Niall can’t quite turn down at the moment. The crying has worn him out and left him feeling empty and quite lonely, so cuddling on the bed doesn’t sound like a terrible idea... At the same time, though, he doesn’t want to face the others after his huge meltdown.
“We’re not going to judge you, Ni. We love you,” Zayn whispers.
Niall rolls over and pulls the pillow off of his head. “Okay,” he agrees quietly, and Zayn’s face breaks into a smile.
“Great! Come on, lads.”
The four of them pile onto the bed with Niall and he’s once again introduced to the idea of smothering as an option, what with Harry lying unceremoniously over the top of him, but he decides against it. With everyone snuggled so close together, he feels warm and safe and nearly content.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Liam asks, his voice low.
Niall shakes his head. “I’m just...I don’t understand why they keep turning my mic off. And I know Jack said we’re going to talk about it at the meeting tomorrow, but that scares me because I feel like they’re going to cut me from the band.” His throat tightens and he knows he’s in serious danger of another breakdown.
“Shh,” Louis whispers, squeezing his arm. “You don’t really think we’d let them cut you, do you? You can’t be that daft.”
“You’re our leprechaun! We’d never let them get rid of you. If anything, we need your good luck.”
Niall smiles weakly at Harry’s lame joke and shrugs. “I dunno.”
“If they say they’re going to drop you, we’ll quit. Niall, I swear, you’re not leaving the band unless the band is done. Together. We’ve said that from day one and we’ll say it until One Direction is over, you hear me?” Zayn demands.
“Mhm,” Niall makes a noncommital nod of his head.
Liam sighs. “What do we have to do to show you we mean it?”
He doesn’t mean to say it, really he doesn’t. It’s just that the lighting in the hotel room so perfectly highlights Liam’s lips and brings out the flecks of gold in his brown eyes and Niall is in such a warped mood that the words falling from his mouth happen to be, “Kiss me?”
Mortified, Niall turns his head and buries himself as far down into the bed as possible. He feels the other boys tense around him, can practically hear the silent conversation that he knows is taking place above his head in the form of mouthed words and raised eyebrows. He’s even quite sure that he can predict what is going on in Liam’s head as he digests what Niall just said to him.
Kiss you? Why would I kiss you? Stupid, fat, ugly, pig. You’re a terrible singer. Probably a terrible kisser. Stupid, stupid stupid...
He’s prepared for them all to leave him lying here on the bed alone, but even Liam hasn’t moved yet and so Niall is confused. Desperately needing air (not to mention answers), he peeks up at Liam and whispers, “Sorry.”
The older boy gives him a long look before leaping from the bed and bounding across the room, locking himself in the bathroom.
Tears, Niall realizes with shame, begin to leak from his eyes once more. “I’m sorry,” he moans again.
“Oh, Niall,” Harry says.
And then Zayn laughs, of all things. He actually starts laughing. Niall is suddenly furious. With Zayn, himself, the others, the whole world maybe. He wrestles himself out from under Harry only to be pulled back down by Louis.
“Just let me go,” he wails, broken.
“I’m sorry,” Zayn gasps between gales of laughter. “Oh, god, Nialler, I’m sorry. It’s just that-that-“
“Niall, love, do you even know how long Liam has been waiting for you to say that?” Louis asks.
He stops trying to break free. “What?”
“Liam’s been wanting to kiss you for ages,” Harry explains.
“Then why’d he run?”
“Probably because Zayn here is a right git and had to go and laugh at him.”
Louis nods in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”
Zayn shakes his head, quieting down now. “I’m sorry. I’m just appreciating the humor in the situation.”
Niall frowns. “I don’t get why it’s funny.”
“Well, you see,” Harry smirks, “we three had a bet going as to who would admit their feelings first. You or Liam.”
“But I didn’t even know I had feelings until right now!”
Louis snorts. “Right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Niall asks, indignant.
“It means you’re a shit liar, Horan. Now, go coax your boyfriend out of the loo while we go get some ice cream,” Louis pushes Niall off the bed. “Come, lads. We’re off to get snacks.”
Harry and Zayn smile at Niall and the three of them leave the poor boy standing alone in the hotel room, with only a locked up Liam for company.
“Li?” Niall asks, approaching the bathroom door with caution. “Will you open the door, please?”
A muffled, “go away,” comes from the other side.
“Come on, you saw me have a full scale meltdown just an hour ago. What’ve you got to lose?” Niall presses himself against the door and turns the knob. To his surprise, it opens easily and swings forward to reveal an embarrassed-looking Liam on the floor by the tub.
“Wow, really? You didn’t even lock it?” For the first time since the microphone incident, Niall cracks a smile.
Liam grins shyly. “Guess not.”
“Come on. The others are going to be back soon.”
“Where’d they go?” Liam asks, standing.
“To get ice cream, according to Louis. Wouldn’t be surprised if they come back with a couple of adopted puppies or something.”
Liam smiles. “It was true, you know,” he says, sitting on the couch.
“What?”
“What they said. That I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. So, I mean. If you still wanted...”
Niall stares at him, trying to decide if he’s lying. Normally he wouldn’t accuse Liam, or any of them, of being untruthful, but the voice in the back of his head is still whispering that he’s a disgusting person and he doesn’t want to kiss Liam and have it turn out to be a practical joke or something.
Liam seems to sense his hesitancy and shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were serious any-“
But seeing the sad look on his face and hearing that Liam thinks Niall was just messing with him is what makes Niall want to prove him wrong and he cuts the older boy off with a quick kiss on the lips.
“I was serious.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“I think that would be okay, yes,” Niall says.
Liam closes the distance between them once again. This time he runs his tongue across Niall’s bottom lip and puts his hands on the blond boys hips. “Is this okay?” he asks between kisses.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s great,” Niall assures him.
Liam’s hand moves down his leg and he feels himself being pressed backwards into the couch. All of a sudden, he’s afraid. This is moving very quickly. He almost pulls back and says something to Liam, but the door bursts open and Louis, Zayn, and Harry pour into the room with armfuls of snacks before he has the chance. A grin breaks out on each of their faces.
“Yes!”
“Yeah, okay, we kissed,” Liam rolls his eyes.
“You guys brought food?” Niall asks, inspiring giggles.
“Of course we brought food,” Louis replies. “Who do you think we are, management?” This inspires another round of laughs.
“We brought movies as well,” Harry informs them.
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ones we’ve never seen before, too,” he says, holding up all three Toy Story films.
“Great!” Liam smiles and Niall feels a pang inside of him that is something like pride, maybe.
Harry puts the first movie in and they all squeeze onto the couch with the overflow of snacks piled in their laps. They spend several minutes digging through the food that Louis, Harry and Zayn scrounged up from downstairs and then press play on the movie.
“Are you feeling better, Nialler?” Louis asks, several minutes in.
Niall considers his position against Liam’s side, head on his chest, kisses being pressed into his neck every few seconds. “Loads,” he answers.
“Good,”Harry whispers, rubbing Niall’s back.
And sitting there, surrounded by his wonderful best friends and the boy that will hopefully become his boyfriend, earning small kisses and reassuring touches from each of them, Niall finds that he’s not just feeling better. He’s feeling the very best.