Pearl White ~A One Direction FairyTale~

You think you know how the story goes. Snow White meets some dwarves, eats an apple, falls asleep, gets kissed by a prince and lives happily ever after.

If only my life were that simple. My name's Pearl. Pearl White. And unfortunately for me, I'm never even going to get to meet my prince. Because his name is Liam Payne, and he's a member of the boy band One Direction.

Cover made by the amazing user NathanielStanley! Thank you so much!

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14. Hanging

I am a cat, lounging lazily with my head on his lap. My mouth stretches open wide as I let loose a very unladylike yawn. I always get sleepy watching movies or television, but for some reason, being with Liam magnifies this. Absentmindedly, he strokes my fringe. It feels nice and warm, and I'm not usually a touchy-feely person, but I feel safe here. The narrator's voice blurs in my brain and before I know it, I'm asleep.

He's in my dreams, kissing me, him and his brown eyes, stubble gently scratching my lips. I welcome him. It feels so right. Then he pushes me away.

"Who would want a homeless girl like you?" he sneers, and I look down and I'm wearing rags, sitting on a cardboard box on the street outside and I cry.

"But you don't understand!" I call out to the darkness. "I'm not really like this! I'm just trying to survive! I thought you'd understand!"

In the mishmosh of chaos, nothing seems to make sense, and then I'm tumbling over and over and falling...

I hit the bed, my entire body stiffening, and I gasp out loud, surprised by the impact. I'm covered by a blanket, and it's eight.

"What happened?" I mutter, disoriented.

"Prince Charming carried you back here like a sack of potatoes after you nodded off on his lap, you did," says Allen, sketching at his desk.

Charlie nods.

"Well, not like a sack of potatoes. More like a child," he adds. "And you were snoring something frightful."

Great. How attractive. I bury my head in my pillow. 

"God, I always fuck it up, don't I?" I groan. "I couldn't help falling asleep, he was just so warm and before I knew it I was out.

"Don't worry about it," snickers Thom. "I'm sure he found it...endearing."

"Oh nooooo," I moan, and announce, "That's it. I'm sleeping now and not waking up until tomorrow and hopefully by then Liam will have forgotten about everything."

When I wake up for my usual morning jog around six, I start stretching in the lobby. To my surprise, Liam tumbles down the stairs, complete in a beanie covering his messy hair and stubble on his chin.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, surprised.

"Going for a run," he says, nonchalantly. 

"Yeah, right," I say, sarcastically. "Since when do you run?"

"Uh..since I started gaining some love handles...can we run together?"

"Sure, I guess. And you liar, you do not have love handles! But," I tease, "You do have soft thighs."

"Yeah, you sure found that out last night when you fell asleep on me," he teases back.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure my snores were really attractive," I say, trying to laugh off my embarrassment. 

"You didn't snore."

"That's not what the guys said."

"They were just pulling your leg. Occasionally you did sigh in your sleep and snuggle into my stomach-"

"Stooop," I say, thoroughly embarrassed. Taking a small sip from my waterbottle, I leave it inside the lobby and push open the thick doors.

"Try and keep up, Singer Boy," I call, and start running at my pace trying to stop myself from laughing. He catches up quickly, matching my pace nicely.

"Woah, your pace is close to my usual one," he gasps. Thud, thud, our feet pound the concrete.

"Don't talk," I gasp. "Just run." So we run, and turn the corner, dodging kids in uniform and old ladies going to the grocery. With two people, the narrow sidewalks become a challenge, so he lets me go ahead, and follows close behind.

I do my usual 5K route, and stop back at the doors, walking back and forth to lower my heart rate, shaking my hands and raising them above my head.

Liam spits on the ground.

"That's gross," I say, wincing.

"Well, I'm not going to swallow it," he replies.

"Why not?" I ask.

"It's gross."

"It's more gross seeing it leave your mouth," I laugh. "Your logic is most infallible, my friend."

I take a cold shower. I'm used to the chill now, taking several minutes to shampoo and condition my hair, and braving the cold on my body for a full rinse for five seconds. I jump into my fluffy towel, shivering, and get changed for gardening again, after breakfast.

Today we're mulching, and fertilizing the plants. I love the smell of mulch. Thick wood chips give the air a musty scent, and I inhale deeply, getting drunk off the scent of it. Liam and I spread it around, dumping wheelbarrows, applying it thickly like a poultice for the plot, and leaving a small circle ringed around the roots untouched.

Today, we're not talking as much, just focusing on getting the job done. As we start mixing in the fertilizer, Liam swears.

"I forgot to fill the watering cans."

"Well, go do it then," I reply. He swears, walks around for a bit disoriented, then runs off with the cans in search of the hose.

"What's wrong?" I ask when he comes back.

"Nothing, just a bit stressed," he mentions, looking significantly worried. "Can I talk to you about it later?"

"Sure," I say casually. Inside, I'm bursting with happiness. He's choosing to confide in me!

"Thanks. You're such a great friend." The fireworks fizzle down. Oh. I'm just a friend. Well, that's what I wanted anyway, right? I focus on the fertilizer and adding the weekly water, trying to ignore how much the small detail hurts. I'm such an idiot. Day by day, I'm falling in love with the real Liam Payne.

"Pearl, who are you really?" he asks suddenly. "You seem really familiar. I feel like I've seen you before. Why are you here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'd rather not talk about it right now in front of everyone," I say, stiffening as I dig my hands into the ground. Liam looks around and notices everyone else working on their plots, painfully aware of our surroundings.

"Ok, got it," he says, quieting.

"I'll tell you later," I promise him.

"How's your finger?" he mentions, quickly changing the subject, after staring at my glove.

"It's fine," I say shortly. He nods, and I lock eye contact with his warm, brown eyes before looking away once again.

"Meet me outside St. Mungos after this, and we'll go for a walk and talk," he adds as I stare determinedly at the ground.

"I've got class at five, so we'll have to make it fast," I mention.

We don't speak again for the rest of the gardening time.

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