Pinkie Promises

Jenny is an 18 year old girl who was best friends with Niall Horan 5 years ago when they were thirteen. But her father dies, and her family has to move to the United States, and she has to leave Niall.
Years later she reunites with him, and him and another member of One Direction have a secret crush on her. But later she finds out she has a deadly illness that can kill her any minute. What is she going to do when the stress is just to much on her?



I watched as Niall slowly opened his eyes, looking down at me and expecting me to still be there. His eyes grew wide as he saw the flat line, a never ending reminder that I was gone. Tears came to his eyes as he scream “JENNY! NO!”

Harry walked past the door, then bolted to the nearest nurse. Niall wouldn’t stop screaming my name; he was motionless, unwilling to leave my side as doctors came in and unhooked me from the IV and machines to try and bring me back to life.

“Niall, get off the bed!” Louis yelled at Niall as they pried him off of me.

“No! I promised I wouldn’t leave her!” He said as he became a sobbing heap on the floor, waiting for the doctors to finish.

I knew nothing would work; it didn’t matter what medication they could use or what type of technology they could try to use, I wasn’t going to wake up.  

After what seemed like years, the doctors called the time, saying I was dead. Niall rushed over, clutching my hand.

“No, Jenny…” he whispered. His tears stained the sheets, and he refused to let go of my hand even after the doctors had left.

“This isn’t real. This is a nightmare.” I heard him say again, looking up at my face, seeing my paleness. “Why would this happen to you?” He said, showing his red eyes and doing his best to hold in more sobs. “Why now?”

He sat there for a long time, holding on to my dead body, waiting for me to wake up. I could hear him thinking that if he waited long enough, he would wake up from the nightmare and he would be laying next to me in his flat. I shook my head, wanting to cry myself as I tried to tell him to just leave. “Niall, come on, go back to the hotel.” But he didn’t hear me; he would never hear me again.

After what seemed like days, he was escorted out by Paul and was driven back to the hotel so he could get his stuff. When he got up into the room, he closed the door behind him and stood there, looking around. He slid down against the door and began sobbing again. “She’s gone.” He whispered.

“Go to your suitcase, please Niall.” I said. I even screamed it, but he still didn’t move. He couldn’t hear me. Couldn’t God let me say a few things to him? I went over to the suitcase where I had left it, and tried moving it, but it stood still. I began crying, frustrated that I couldn’t do anything, and all I could do was watch my loved one suffer.

He did eventually get up however, opening the suitcase for new clothes to change into, but came across the pieces of paper I had stuffed in there before hand. He sighed, going back to the door and sliding down again. He shuffled the papers neatly as to read them in order, holding them out at the right angle so I could read over his shoulder.
He started reading out loud, which surprised me. Did he know I was listening?

Do you remember that time when one of the guys at school told me that they liked me when I was seven, and you told him that if he liked me that much, that he would have to get your permission to date me? You were the most protective eight year old I knew; even after he asked for your permission, you said, and I quote “No, she probably thinks you’re ugly.”
He let tears run down his face as he continued on, choking on some of the words.

“I remember being mad at you, telling you that you had no right to do that, because it was my life and if I wanted to date someone I was allowed. Of course, I didn’t really care, because he was in fact, ugly. All the times after that, even when I was in New York and told you that someone liked me or that I was dating someone, you told me that “they aren’t good for you. They won’t treat you right, I guarantee.”

“I know now that you were right. They will never compare to you. You, are my one and only. Niall, I love you to no end. I loved you like a brother when we were younger, and then fell in love with you after moving, and realizing that I missed you and needed you. I’m so, so, so, so sorry for not telling you about my disease sooner; I was just afraid. I was afraid of losing you for good. Not necessarily after I died, but after telling you, I would lose the guy that was always there for me, cracking jokes, and loving me back just as much. I didn’t want to lose you like that, in anyway. I wanted things to stay normal. Trying to avoid my disease didn’t work, and I ended up losing you anyways.

“I’m writing to you now, while in the hotel room back here in our hometown. You just went down the hall to get food, and I’m sure you will be back any minute. After our first date, even though Liam interrupted, I was willing to admit it to myself that I loved you; that I was madly in love with you, and wanted to stay with you no matter what.

“I’m going to promise you, that I will never forget you. I may not be alive, but I’ll be talking about you non stop up here in heaven. I’m promising you that I will never leave you; I’ll stay by your side no matter what, walking with you down the street to get some Nandos, or to the recording studio. I’ll listen to your albums and make sure everyone else up here will listen along with me. They might get annoyed, but I won’t give a shit. I love you too much to not listen your music. I pinky promise, that I will forever love you.

“I will always be yours.


P.S…okay, nevermind, too much like the movie….But I love you.”

He let his finger run over my writing, smiling slightly as he skimmed it one more time before looking up at the ceiling. He sat there for longer than I expected, just thinking. He looked as if he was in a state of bliss; realizing something I didn’t yet. “Jenny, I love you, and I’m sorry I didn’t help you. I loved you when I first set eyes on you, but didn’t realize it yet. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just wish you were back.”

He sighed again, standing up and going to the couch where my suitcase was, opening it and smiling immediately, seeing that I had put one of his t-shirts on the top that I had worn constantly. He smelled it, my perfume on it and went to the bedroom, falling asleep with the shirt attached to his hand. “I love you, Jenny.” Was all he continued to whisper, waiting for me to say it back.

“Pinky promise?” I whispered, seeing his eyes shoot open and he looked around.

He waited a moment before answering. His heart was beating so fast, and his mind was racing. He thought about whether he should answer or not. “I promise.” He said, laying back down on the bed and holding the shirt with both hands now, sighing in relief that he heard my voice.

I smiled, sighing and knew that he would never hear me again; God had let me say my one thing to him and that would be it. “Then I love you too.”

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