The Fighter [Dark Niall Horan]

(16+) And all he would do was fight. He fought for things he loved, for things he loathed, for things he wanted, for things he needed, for things that didn't make sense . . . For me.

*Check out the trailer in the description!*
*My rendition of Dark, but a Niall version.*


4. Three

       Since Tina is upset with me, I'm going home with Josh.  I've been over to his house loads of times and since he's gay, it doesn't really bother either of us.  He just tells me to keep my "lady" items to myself and not sprawled around the house.  He let's me live here as long as I want for free since he's funded by his rich dad, who a music producer for big stars.  As we enter Josh's mansion-like house, he asks, "You're not really going on a date with Niall, are you?"
       I shake my head.  My breath hitches, thinking about the thought of what he could do to me.  "Well," I begin, "how does he know where I live?  He doesn't have this address . . . At least, I hope he doesn't."
       "If you do, don't tell Tina," he says.  "And be careful."  His words were sharp then, making sure I take good precautions.
       "What has he done?" I ask.
       "Any- and everything," Josh replies.
       We walk up to the second story and go into Josh's room.  His deep voice says, "He's beaten people up, broken the law, went to jail..."  His voice trails off.  "You name it, he's done it.  Niall's a real player.  He'll take a girl out to have sex with them afterwards."
       "What?" I say.
       "Yeah," Josh softly says.  "Just be ready to run."
       I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, so I quickly open it and check my messages.  It's from an unknown number.  The message reads, "Wear something sexy.  I've seen the pictures you have on your phone, wear something better.  x -NH."
       "He has my phone number," I whisper, looking up at Josh.
       I go into my room, leaving Josh to be alone.  I go under my sheets in my blanket, thinking about Niall.  The pictures he's talking about are the photos that are included in the album "Mine."  They're pictures I've kept of myself, the moments I've felt the most secure about how I look.  Yes, some of those clothes are skimpy.  For example, I wore a tank-top that was almost see-through with a military camouflage-patterned jacket.  I had on shorts that were a whole foot of a distance away from my knee.  My hair was up in a bun with strands of my light hair hanging down.  The silver hoop earrings I was wearing shined in the bathroom light.  Lastly, I wore black combat boots that went great with my jacket.  I had no makeup on, but I felt good about my body, so I didn't think I needed any mask for my face.


       Niall said he'd come to get me at six; it's five o'clock.  I sigh to myself as I get up and get ready.  In my bathroom, I had previously laid out clothes for me to wear.  I didn't comply to Niall's demands in the text he'd sent me.  I just went average.  My clothing consists of a purple top that shows my shoulders but has sleeves, black skinnies, and comfortable flip-flops.  As I pull my black skinny jeans on, I make my way over to the shelf in the bathroom.  I open a cabinet to reach for my "Girlfriend" perfume by Justin Bieber.  I spot my rainbow bracelets—I had bought them in honor of gay-pride.  I somehow manage to pull off a slouchy gray beanie Tina bought me for my birthday last year.  My light hair flows in crimps as I veil two sides of it over my shoulders.  (The outfit.)
       Josh greets me downstairs and compliments me on my look.  I thank him as he hands me his varsity jacket.  I ask him what for.
      "There's pepper spray in the pocket," he says.  "The jacket's bigger on you, so you won't be able to tell it's in the pocket because of the size."
      I silently thank him with a smile.  I slip the jacket on over my frame with the help of Josh.  I hear the doorbell ring, making me jump.      
      "Well!  Have fun!" Josh says to me, scurrying up the stairs.
      I sigh at his frightfulness because of Niall.  I let out another puff of air for myself, realizing I have to go on a date with the man that Josh had described to be "a force to be reckoned with."  Niall stands before me when I open door that is at least two feet taller than me.  Niall's cheeky grin spreads quickly when he sees me.
      "Hello, lovely," he says.  "You look dashing."
      I remain emotionless as he reaches for my hand and takes me outside.  We slide into his red Camaro with the song "The Big Bang" by Rock Mafia playing.  This is my favorite song, and now it's ruined because I know that he listens to it.  As Niall cruises down the road to an unknown destination, I notice him bobbing his head to the beat.  He also tries to entwine our fingers a few times, but I pull back.  Finally, he aggressively yanks my wrist to him and he holds my hand with warmth.  That action frightens me.
      "C'mon, babe," he says.  "Don't be difficult."
      I gulp down my excellence before we pull up to a restaurant that is nearby—you can tell by the short amount of ten minutes it took us to arrive.  My feet carry me beside Niall after he opens the door for me.  He wraps my arm around him without my consent, hurting me emotionally with fear.  The concierge at the entrance of Applebee's snaps her head up at the two of us.
      She, her name tag labeling the blonde as Jenny, grins before saying, "Oh, hello, Niall.  Just you two tonight?"
      When Jenny said two, she shifted her eyes up and down my frame, making me uncomfortable.  She looks disgusted with me being entwined with Niall, so I lift my arm out of his grasp and just stand beside him.
      "Yes, Jenny," he answers with no emotion.
      She grabs two menus and sits us in a booth, both of us sitting across from each other.  Our waitress, a different girl tagged as Blaze, hands us the menus and walks away.  Niall and I flip through the pictures and articles to search for what we would like to eat.
      Niall drops his menu suddenly, making me jump a bit.  He says, "How have you been?"
      "Uhm," I say.  "Fine."
      "Good," he replies.  "You know, I've been watching you."
      I look up from the selections to see Niall staring at me with his hands together against his chin.  His previous statement unexpectedly gave me cold feet.
      "What?" I ask.
      "I know you're scared of interaction," Niall tells me.  "You're scared of everything for no damn reason."
      "That's not true."
      "It's very true.  You like to hang out with Tina and Josh, and that's all.  If someone talks to you, you will not talk back.  You'll stay with yourself and you'll avoid contact.  I know you're quiet and you don't have a home.  I know everything about you, just nothing about your personality."
      His statements are all true.  It scares me.  I say, "How long have you been... watching me?"
      "A few weeks," Niall answers.  "Maybe two months.  Nothing more than that."
      "Why are you just now interacting with me?" I ask.
      "Because I was trying to figure out what you do and don't like," he ripostes.
      "So why are you doing things to me that I don't like?  Such as, touching me?" I question.
      "To break you out of your shell."
      How could he possibly think that moving this fast already is okay?  My thoughts are screwed up when Blaze comes back to take our order.  She says, "Hi, Niall.  Hello, Niall's date."
      "You guys know each other?" I buzz.
      "Of course!" Niall says.  "She's my best friend!"
      Niall tugs on Blaze's hand.  She laughs as her brown, dip-dyed pink hair flows with her swaying gesture.  Her body is perfect, so suave.  Again, my thoughts are ruined when Niall gives his order to Blaze.  I order for myself.  As we're left alone, the conversation sparks again.
      "How much do you not know?" I enjoin.
      "I don't know you're favorite color, your birth place, your birthday and time.  I don't know what you do for a living . . ." He pauses for a moment.  "Your weight, height, natural hair color, how many relationships you've been in, how fast you fall in love, your type of guy . . . " Niall stops himself from speaking after that.  "I don't know anything besides what I had described earlier, the things about you being scared of people in general."
      I look down at my twiddling thumbs.  Just then is when I notice that I'm sweating little droplets.  I wipe my brow from the salty substance.
      "Here," Niall says, coming over to my side of the booth.  He aides me, without my consent, as he removes my jacket.  I shiver from the sudden rush of cold air and the thought of not having the pepper spray close to me so I can pull it out on the sly.  My shoulders are exposed now as well as my fibula (the lower half of my arm; from my elbow down).
      "I know that you have one tattoo," he tells me.  "It's on your side.  I've seen it when you were changing in your car."
      I shoot my head up.  "You- you've seen me with no clothes?"  My voice is quiet, in complete disbelief.  I feel violated, so gross and insecure, knowing that a complete stranger has watched me remove and reapply my clothing.
      He laughs at my reaction.  "Darling, it's fine.  You're not bad looking."
      But I am.  If you've ever seen me with no clothes, you'll know how disgusting I am.  I've always been insecure of my weight and torso; I've never had that "straight" figure.  My curves always make me feel unaccepted, like nobody wants me and everyone will deny me because of the way I look.  That's how I started becoming an anti-social druggie.  
       I buy drugs for a living, making money by selling things I have (blankets, coats, CDs, etc.).  I'll get money from strangers as they pass me by, feeling bad for my homelessness.  Then, I purchase weed or cocaine from the man I usually go to, his name Drake.  I started doing drugs because of my insecurities as I saw that many potheads/coke-addicts quickly lose weight.  It sort of worked for me, but I got worried so I stop every now and again —every two weeks, to be exact.  It was difficult for me to stop once I got started.  I wouldn't do drugs everyday, and I still won't.  I know it will get me hooked forever.  I only take my doses on Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday; this will last for two weeks, so out of fourteen days I'll only be high/stoned for eight days.  I guess that's good since I'm not doing drugs at all for two weeks after those two weeks.  So out of the whole month of 30 days, I've only been drugged for eight days.  Good right?  But Niall just so happened to catch me on my good two-weeks.
       "You're very hot," Niall says to me, reverting my attention back to what he had previously said.  "Very fit."
       Not really.  I look down again, uncomfortably blushing with my cheeks turning up to the hottest temperature.  Niall's laugh echoes in my ear again, not being able to remove it from my brain.

       As Niall drops me back at Josh's place, he walks me up the steps.  I reach for the door handle, but Niall pulls me to him with my front pressed against his.  He slips his hands from my bum up to my lower back under my shirt.  I shiver and I know he feels my goosebumps because he chuckles deeply again.
       "You're hot," he says to me, look down at my overexposed cleavage.  God damn me for wearing this shirt tonight of all nights.  "I'll see you later, hottie."
       As he lets go of me, he gives my butt a squeeze.  I gasp and he retreats to his car, laughing the way there.  This guy . . . God, please let him leave me alone.

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