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!


15. The Truth

I pace outside back and forth, stressed. I want to tell him everything. I'm just going to lay it all out there, and if he rejects me, it's fine. I'll move on. He's no longer the Liam I've obsessed about. He's a guy that I like because he makes me laugh and cares about me.

I stare at the sidewalk. In between the cracks, moss is growing up against the grey, a nice touch of green. London is changing for me. I can see the colors, the taxis and cars, and people, the weeds persisting against the pavement.

Perhaps it's always been this way and I simply never noticed it.

"Hey." Liam interrupts my busy mind, and I quickly glance up at him, startled.

"Oh, I didn't hear you coming. Sorry," I flush slightly.

"So. You were going to tell me-"

"Oh yeah, me first then?" I take a deep breath. "Well. Maybe you do know me, I was modeling for Vogue a couple months ago. I'm Pearl White. And Celia Montbatten White is my stepmother."

"I knew it! I just wasn't sure," he shakes his head. "I couldn't tell exactly because your hair," he motions towards my overgrown fringe, and I blow it out of my face with a puff of air. 

"Yeah, well I know everyone thinks I ran away and everything," I mention, "but the truth is that Celia actually took out a restraining order on me. Completely on false grounds too. I'm starting to think she's more than just a little bit crazy," I joke, trying to make it lighthearted, but Liam's face is very somber, so I change my tone.

"Truthfully, I've known that she's had...problems for a while. She's very obsessive about beauty, and I might have triggered her problems and made them worse at the photoshoot. She was supposed to be in it, but the photographer called her old, and she lost it. She's definitely bulimic too," I say, tracing the cracks in the concrete with my trainers. 

"That makes sense then," says Liam. "I can understand why you wouldn't want anyone to know either, sometimes fame takes away your privacy and drives you off into the deep end, enabling you." He sounds bitter now, as if he's talking from experience.

"Yeah, you do understand," I say, gratefully. "I feel bad wanting privacy now when before, I just wanted to be a model because I wanted the fame. I thought that if I got famous enough, I'd get to meet you, honestly." I flush red and stare at the ground harder. I make a mental note to never ever tell him about how I had vowed to my Liam cut-out that I would save myself for him. So stupid.

He snorts.

"I'm not worth it," he says, in a voice as bitter as unsweetened chocolate.

"Yes, you are. The real you is," I say, quietly. "Once we started talking and I saw you for who you really were, after the Christmas incident, of course, I saw that you and the image you project are two different things. And," I pause, and take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, my throat is dry and I feel like I'm going to throw up, but I swallow it all and choke it out bravely.

"I like you, Liam. Not the image you project about being perfect and everything, but the you who gets sloppy drunk and is an arse, and then is sweet and caring secretly. I know that sounds fucked up, but I like that you're not perfect. You don't have to like me in return, I get that, if you just want to be friends, I'm sure Danielle wouldn't be happy either-" I'm babbling now.

"Let me stop you right there," Liam says. I feel like I'm going to pass out. My hands are sweating, I'm nervous and feeling sick. He's going to reject me. "I like you too, Pearl. I like you a lot and Danielle and I have been long broken up-" I start cheering inwardly and exhale gratefully.

"But-" My stomach sinks again as he continues to talk. "But I don't deserve you. I need to tell you the truth." He takes a deep breath, and I sit on the steps, all the strength gone from my legs.

"I have a bad drinking problem. That's why I'm here. I've been sober since Christmas, but you can see how bad it gets for me. That's not just why I'm here though. I got caught drinking and driving. It was hushed up, but I smacked another car real bad, and there was a kid involved. They paid the family for a new car because no one was injured. They're not pressing charges. But I needed to disappear for a while. And St. Mungo's seemed perfect. They're telling everyone that I'm doing an extended period of charity, when in reality, I'm trying to get my shit together."

"You drove drunk?" I ask, stunned.

"Yes." he says, staring at the ground solemnly.

"You are a fucking arsehole. How dare you. You could have killed that family," I say, tears springing to my eyes.

"You don't think I don't know that?" He raises his voice. I can see tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as well. At least he can feel some remorse. "Fuck, I messed up real bad. I don't know why, or how or anything, I was such a cocky bastard."

"And you get off scot free, with your reputation untarnished," I say, coldly. "You're right, you don't deserve me. I'm sorry, I can live and love someone imperfect. But I can't be with someone who endangers others and then doesn't take responsibility for it." I take a deep breath. "And you know what? The single, most frustrating thing about me is that I'm willing to overlook it. Because I love you. But I can't downplay something like this. You're a criminal. When you got behind that wheel drunk, you destroyed my respect for you. And your fans, kept clueless and suspended in idiotic adoration, isn't that the biggest crime?"

I stride off.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Singer Boy. I have a night class to get to. Some of us are working and trying to better ourselves, despite our backgrounds."

"I'm sorry, Pearl," he says, quietly. That sorry hurts more than the truth. It cuts to the bone and leaves my chest heaving and winded. How juvenile of me. I thought I knew the true him. I couldn't handle the fucking truth. I stride away.

I'm like the Little Mermaid now and every step is a knife in my feet and legs. My shin splints are back. I've been running too much and the trainers from St. Mungos don't offer arch support, of course, because they were donated. I groan, and shift my weight, trying to find a comfortable way to walk, but there is none.

So I limp to class, unwilling to let myself cry. I've let those tears fall and dry up. But after class, in the darkness, I can't stop it any longer. I collapse on the corner, lean against the building and let them fall, sobs wracking my entire frame. What a fool I am. What a foolish little girl I am, trying to find my own way in this world. I'm so lost. I don't know what to believe anymore. The only thing I can believe in besides myself is the Hopeful Seven. So I walk back, drying my tears and let their happiness mend my broken heart. I will be strong. I will be brave. I will most certainly not back down.

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