Letters Best Unread

Everyone is worried about Niall Horan. He gets loads of hate and insults everyday, and everyone's worried that it's getting to him worse than the others. Niall thinks he's fine, but agrees to go to the doctor. This doctor has him write pretend letters to a fake address. No one expected for the address to be real. No one expected for Niall's letters to reach her.

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1. Chapter 1

_One.


Niall walked down the empty halls slowly and silently. He couldn’t believe management was making him do this, and further, the boys had agreed to it. There was nothing wrong with him at all. They acted as if he was a ticking bomb, ready to explode. He wasn’t.

The framed pictures hanging on the wall of happy animals and happy people were mocking Niall. They were mocking him because he had to be trapped in this crazy place for two hours each day. It was supposed to be a break for all of the boys after their months and months of touring. Niall was supposed to be having fun with friends and family, but no. He had to go to this stupid place every day.

The padding on the puke green carpet from Niall’s Supra’s finally stopped when he reached the door. It looked so orderly and formal with the doctor’s name written on the fuzzy window. That word bothered him; doctor. It made him feel like he was sick, which he wasn’t, and that made Niall even angrier than he already was. He seemed to be angry at everything. 

Niall raised a veiny fist to the door and knocked once. The knock was sharp and loud, exactly how Niall’s feelings felt. Could feelings feel? He thought to himself. He must be going mad. 

“Mr.Horan, it’s good to see you.”

Niall looked up to see the doctor staring at him, her eyes boring into his own. He hated her already. Her brown—yet fading to grey—hair were put up in a messy ponytail, hairs that looked like wires sticking out every which way. Her face was sagging because of her age, and Niall knew that they wouldn’t get along. 

When he didn’t respond, the doctor stepped aside, her arm sweeping over the room, “Come in, will you? This is your first meeting, so I’ll keep this short.”

Niall made the roll of his eyes obvious to her as he entered the room, and he didn’t even car that he was acting like a child. He shouldn’t be here, so he had the right to act like this. Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped himself down on the long white couch. A table was across from him filled with pamphlets and papers, and Niall imagined himself throwing them all over the floor while the doctor watched in horror. He smiled.

The doctor shut the door with a click and sat quietly in the chair opposite Niall, “Okay, so let’s get right to this since it’s obvious that you want to leave.”

He nearly laughed at this, and he noticed the small smile on her face. She was probably trying to make him more comfortable. Yeah right.

“My name is Dr.Surrean, but you can call me whatever you like; even by my first name if it suits you.” She started with the cross of her legs, and Niall nodded once. He didn’t plan on getting on a first name bases with her.  She smiled, “You know why you’re here don’t you? Your management and band mates have told me how you’re feeling, and it isn’t good, Niall.”

Niall once again rolled his eyes. She was treating him like some mental patient. Why wouldn’t anyone understand that there wasn’t anything wrong with him? He crossed his arms and watched as she placed a bony hand on a piece of paper on the table with a pencil lying on top of it. She scooted it across the table towards him.

“I have one thing I want you to do.  Take this and write a letter to whoever you want about how you’re feeling. Then, with an address given by me, you’ll mail the letter.”

Niall gaped at her. Was she serious? He wasn’t sending letters to some random person he didn’t know. This was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard of. He eyed the paper and pencil, “I’m not sending letters to some person I don’t know.”

Dr.Surrean laughed, “No, Niall, it’s not a person. It’s a faux address made to make the patient feel as if the letters are being sent to a real person. No one will read them.”

The word made him flinch in realization. That word sickened him. So he was a patient? He was sick and needed to be taken care of? This place was Niall’s own personal hell. 

“Just do it, Niall. It’ll make you feel better.” Doctor urged, and Niall finally gave up and hunched over to grab the pencil. He looked up at Dr.Surrean who was watching him with hopeful eyes. 

“Well don’t watch me.” He grumbled, and he watched as she stood up, placed a hand on his shoulder for a moment, and then went back to her desk in the back of the room. Looking at her once more in disgust, Niall placed the tip of the pencil on the paper and began writing.

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