The Perfect Match 15+ (Completed)

Summary: Niall Horan is the epitome of bad news. After his mother passes away, he finds himself in the battle with drugs and alcohol. With jeopardy of not graduating his senior year, his teacher Ms. Aleman pairs him with tutor Aubrey Osborn, daughter of a man who may know Niall a bit too well. Ms. Aleman thinks Aubrey and Niall are the perfect match, but their histories beg to differ. On top of it, Aubrey is applying to the most competitive schools in the nation, while Niall could care less about a higher education. Two teenagers. Two hearts. Two stories. Will it be the perfect match?

i'm not responsible for the bad language & sexual scenes. it's left upon yourself to read this fan-fic. your choice, not mine. (:
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This Isn't My Fanfic >.<
Here Is The Authors Tumblr Page Link : http://elouvator.tumblr.com
I Just Really Liked The Story (:

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15. Chapter 15 (:

 

Chapter 15

 

Niall’s P.O.V - Summer 2012

Perrie struts out of the bedroom in a floral bikini. “Do you like it?” she purrs and tugs on the chain around Zayn’s neck. He bites his lip in approval and places his hands firmly on her ass. When the hell would I find a love similar to theirs? Sure enough, Jade struts into the room and models her white bikini, which complements her tan skin and burgundy hair. I have no intention of dating Jade because having her for the night is good enough for me. I mean, Jade is gorgeous, but we lack a connection. The girl I fall in love with had to tug the cords of my heart with purely her smile and laugh. The doorbell rings, and our heads turn to the door in one swift motion.

“Party time!” the girls sing. Zayn gives me a knowing gaze, and I rub my hands together. Tonight was going to be a night to remember. Junior year is done with, and now is time for a bit of relaxation. Zayn answers the door, and a line of students from Meadowview High walk in, a few shaking hands with Zayn and hugging Perrie before grabbing a beer. Soon enough, the entire flat was crowded with sloppily wasted teenagers in their swimsuits.

 

Jade slings herself onto my body and hiccups. With the smell of alcohol lingering from her lips, she is for sure beyond wasted. “Oops, hehe,” she giggles, “Josh said he needed to see you. He said to go to the study room.” I tense up knowing the deal and maneuver through the crowd of people to go to the study room. When I open the door, Josh and his friends are smoking weed. I like weed, too, but what I need is the pill.

“Ah, look who decided to join us,” Josh laughs insolently and throws his hood over his head. “Do you have my money?”

“Yeah,” I nod and hand him the cash buried in my pocket. I feel pathetic, but the pill usually washes the feeling away. Josh hands me a bag with three pills in it while his posse behind him laughs coldly. “What is so funny?”

“You,” one of the boys thunder, “you are fucking pathetic.” I bury the bag into my pocket and stalk toward him slowly. “What are you going to do, Horan?” He removes the blunt from his lips and blows a puff of smoke in my face. My eyes level with his, and my fist is ready to wipe the smirk off his face. “I heard your mum died in a car accident two years ago,” he breathes.

“She did,” I say, “today, actually.”

 “I always thought your mum was hot,” he laughs darkly crossing his arms, “she would have been a good shag.” Immediately, my fist connects to his jaw causing his face to sling to the floor.

“Niall, what the fuck are you doing?” Josh shouts. He pulls me away and crashes my body against a wall. His breath reeks of alcohol and smoke. “Listen here, he is providing me with the goods I am selling. If you fuck with him, you fuck with me. You need the fucking drugs. Suck it up and quit your crying.” I feel used. I feel owned. I feel…worthless. I push Josh off me to go home. Greg is probably worried where I am anyway.

When my hand meets the door handle to leave the room, another hand hovers mine and stops me. “Not, yet, Horan,” the boy whispers, “you owe me now.” His eyes burn into mine as I await his orders. I have to listen because I know tomorrow I will need another fix, and I will need it from him. “Take those pills, all of them.”

“What the hell?” Josh interrupts. “No man, three pills will leave him d—”

“Take them,” he hisses. He wants me dead. Hell, I want myself dead, too. I grab the bag from my pocket and unleash the pills in my hand. One swallow, and the pain will all be over. In one swift motion, I cup the pills in my hand and toss them inside my mouth. It feels…pleasant, actually, to know in a matter of time, I’ll be with my mother no longer having to suffer life as me.

The boy loses his glare and allows me to leave the room. As the night draws on, I begin to lose the feeling in my fingers and go to a room to clear my mind. I sit on the bed and notice the floral bedding beneath me. It had to be Perrie’s room. My gaze wanders aimlessly until it meets a photograph on her nightstand. In the photograph, Perrie is hugging a girl I assume to be her best friend. The girl is stunning. Her dark locks caress her spine, and her thin lips are perfectly colored, but she wins me over with her eyes, which are an intense shade of emerald. She probably has a boy head over heels in love with her. From what I hear, she dates Louis, which means I will never get to know her. I will never get to hold her. I will never get to prove how good of a boyfriend I can be for her. Hell, what am I saying? The drugs are kicking in, I guess. My mother always warned me to be careful with drugs and alcohol, but after she passed away, I stopped giving a shit about a lot. Why am I not dead, yet? It would solve a lot of problems, actually, you know, being dead. I grab the gun from inside my blazer and study its cold metal. Kill yourself, free yourself, Niall. Beads of sweat form on my forehead, and my hands irrepressibly judder with anxiety. I am never going to feel normal again. Not now. Not ever.

Suddenly, I hear shrieks behind the door, and footsteps quaking from upstairs. I look out the window, and people are rushing out of the flat. What the hell is going on? I bury the gun inside my jacket and open the door. People are disappearing by the second. A few people go through the back door and jump the fence to return home, and other people flee through the windows.

My eyes wander the flat wondering what the hell is going on. Zayn and Perrie are in the living room with their hands behind their heads. “Niall, run!” Zayn shouts through his teeth, but because my mind is clouded, I hesitate doing it. When realization snaps, I run to the door, but a police officer bumps into me knocking me to the floor. I return to my feet, and his hand is latched onto the gun by his belt.

“Put your hands behind your head!” he shouts. With the drugs officially in gear, I struggle to respond immediately. I shuffle my feet and dig for the gun under my blazer. “Did you hear me, son? Put your hands behind your head!” His green eyes are burning into mine, and I swear under my breath. I hate police officers. What was the point of them? My mother died in a car accident, and because the motherfucker who crashed into her was a minor, he was let go. He was charged with an infraction and left to enjoy his life. That is why I fucking despise those motherfuckers in uniform. They do nothing. They go home to their wives and children and live happily knowing my mother is dead, and no one is paying the price for it. “Son, I will tell you one more time to put your hands behind your head.”

“Niall, shut the fuck up and put your fucking hands behind your head!” Zayn shouts. Anger washes over him as I disobey his order, too.

I slowly crawl away from the police officer and, in one swift motion, aim my gun to him. He swiftly pulls his gun from his belt and aims it to me in response. “Son, put the gun down.” His voice is calm, and I know he is reading through me. He knows I am high on drugs. He knows I am…done. My finger is latched onto the trigger ready to shoot. My hand is shaking, and the tears are gushing out of my eyes. Kill him, and get your revenge. Do it for your mother. “Listen, I am only here to stop a party with minors consuming alcohol. You do not want to do this.” His words are slow and careful. He knows I am on the edge of doing it.

“Yes, I do,” my voice shakes, “it is motherfuckers like you who let my mother die without paying for it.”

“Son, put the gun down,” he says slowly, “and we will talk about it.”

My face is hot from the anxiety. I have to shoot him. It is the only way I will get the fuck over her death. “My mother died,” I cry, “she died and left nothing behind for me. All I have is a fucked up life and a brother who hates me. You probably have a family you go home to everyday. Am I right? I bet your wife loves you, and your son bows down to you.”

“I have a daughter,” he answers, “about the age of you, actually. Son, imagine her without one of her parents. You do not want to do this. Put the gun down.”

I consider dropping the gun, but my pride overpowers me. I am in too deep to quit. I close my eyes shut and pull the trigger, and because my vision is cloudy, I miss and the bullet shoots his arm. He falls to floor as the blood seeps through his uniform and into a pool of blood on the floor.

My feet stumble away. “Zayn,” I pant, “what did I just do? Zayn…” His eyes shift from the police officer to me to the police officer.

“Niall,” Zayn lulls, “put the gun down. It will be alright, mate.”

“I-I’m sorry,” my voice manages, “I am so sorry.” My knees weaken, and I fall to floor. My tears are hot, and my heart races as I hear the sirens from the other cars and an ambulance. I scramble to the police officer and gently press my hand to his arm examining it. “Please forgive me, I—”

“You might have done enough damage, son,” he coughs rolling his eyes over to me. Before I know it, I turn to the front door to see two other police officers barging into the flat with their guns prepared to shoot if we disobey their orders. I shift my eyes to the lifeless green orbs drowned in tears. I sigh swallowing my tears and place my hands behind my head. Soon enough, I feel the cold metal linked around my wrists.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” one of the officers recites. Zayn, Perrie, and I nod our heads obediently, and I hear the zip of our handcuffs one after the other. An officer shoves me into the back of a police car with Zayn and Perrie. Overhearing the conversation among the officers, I realize I am in deep shit. They are letting Zayn and Perrie go as soon as they get ahold of their parents, but because I committed a larger crime, I may have to go to juvie. I lean my head against the car window allowing the blue and red sirens to blind me. Oh well, I have no one else to blame but myself. I am the one who shot the officer, and if he suffers, at least I am paying the price.

Suddenly, my mind goes back, and I see my mother. I see her throwing my hat on before she drives me to my school for the school production of Oliver Twist. She taps my nose with her finger and pinches my cheek. “You are going to be alright, Niall,” she smiles, “I believe in you. If you make a mistake, guess who is still going to be right behind you.”

“You are!” a ten-year-old me beams.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” she says holding my hand, “now come along, you have a show to do.”

When the police officer beams a flashlight in my face, I return from my daze startled. I look out the window, and I see the officer I shot biting his lip as a nurse wraps a bandage around his arm. He is going to go home to his wife and daughter, and in the end, he will be happy. As for me, I am afraid to say I never will be.

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