Autumn Leaves (Niall Horan)

Alicia Hollow has done something horrible and the only way out of it is to fake her own death and start over.

Niall Horan, her best friend, believes that she is really gone and he faces many challenges. Like becoming mentally and emotionally unstable. Even doing some crazy sinister things.

Alicia's new career makes her face Niall again.

How will this turn of events end? And what secrets lie behind their past lives?

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9. Chapter Eight

 

 

Alicia's POV

I cracked open my eyes to face a snowflake covered window. A long, smile that stretch from ear to ear fell in my lips. Winter was my favourite season and I aspired to play in the snow each year, I guess today was the day.

"It snowed," I whispered the words in a joyful, excited tune. Mason's grey eyes sprung open, flickering to the snow coated window.

He slightly grinned, pulling my body to his. "It's cold," he mumbled into my hair. We were lying in his bed, the stickiness of dried tears were painted onto my cheeks with such exaggeration.

"I know," I said to him, my voice barely audible, taking my bottom lip between my milky white teeth. "It has to be cold to snow, stupid." I smirked.

"Touche," he spoke. Mason rose from the bed, his fingers unlocking the window and raising the glass up. He poked his head out the opening into the crisp winter breeze. "Join me," he offered in a gentle way.

I stepped towards the opened glass, sticking my head into the snowflakes falling softly onto the ground. "Wow," I complimented nature with a wonderstruck gasp. "It's beautiful."

White fluff coated the streets, the cars, rooftops and window sills. Flakes collected in my chocolate hair, that was still slightly messy from my tossing and turning during my sleep.

"Sure is." He grabbed my hand, lacing his long fingers with mine. "But, it'd be better if we were outside."

I beamed with excitement of the events about to unfold. "Let's go," I insisted, taking my hand from his and snatching my beanie from the bedside table. I slid the hat onto my head, and my socks onto my feet.

My fast paced steps echoed throughout the dwelling, until they stopped. "What are you doing?" I questioned Mason.

He was still standing at the window, his eyes fixed on the scenery before him. His hands tightly gripped the edges of the wood, making his knuckles turn as white as the snow outside.

He shook his head making his wavy, sand coloured hair rumble around like a flag in strong winds. He reached up, taming the wild locks.

I approached him with slight caution. My frail hand rested on his muscular shoulder. He turned; mixed, unreadable emotions filled his silver irises.

"Leah..." his thumb swiped my plump, bottom lip. He stared intently into my honey orbs.

"What?" I asked in a whisper. He pulled me into his arms, his hands going up my shirt. His thumbs ran over every cut.

"I don't like them," he spoke softly. "They show all the times I could've been there for you, but I wasn't."

"It's not your fault." I shook my head back and forth.

"Who's fault is it?" He interrogated, taking my hand in his.

It stayed silent for a while and I, broke it with: "Mine."

"Will you stop? For me?" He kissed my forehead. I stayed silent, looking to the floor. He lifted my chin, slight anger filling his eyes, but more pity.

I didn't want him to feel pity for me, these were my battle scars. I know it's kind of shocking because of the smile always put on my face, but years ago, I was diagnosed with depression. The doctor had given me pills to help me, but it was no use. I didn't even take them.

Cutting was my escape, the pain on the inside resolved by happening on the outside. Ever since I met Mason, I didn't do it as much. But, recently I'd been kissing the blade more frequently.

He forcefully pushed me to the bed. "How about we finish what we started last night?" He whispered seductively.

I grabbed his collar pulling his lips to mine. Our tongues fought for dominance, while his fingers slid into the waistband of my sweatpants. He broke away from the kiss, staring into my eyes.

My shirt was lifted, exposing my cuts. I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from pulling the clothing back down.

I felt his breath trailing on my lower stomach, his lips touched every cut. Every scar.

A sudden strike of humiliation hit me, making me open my eyes. Mason was now hovering over me, his bottom lip taken between his milky white teeth and his silver eyes the darkest they could be.

I pulled down my shirt covering the cuts. He slightly frowned, a long sigh leaving his parted lips. His body plopped next to me, while his arms wrapped around me.

"I'm sorry," I said. He shook his head, his wavy locks brushing my cheek.

"It's okay." The words came out smooth, but a little hitched the next time he repeated it into my ear.

Slight light coming from the winter sky shined through the window onto our bodies that layed almost motionless on the plush, pillow top mattress. He kissed my temple. Eh, there goes the feeling in the left side of my body.

The ringing of his mobile broke the silence in a dramatic way. A way that made it feel like a war had broke out. I slightly jumped at the peppy tune, which made Mason grin.

"It's Spencer," he spoke, sitting daggers to the screen.

"Put him on speaker," I suggested, my eyes fixing on the popcorn ceiling. I connected random patterns with dots.

"Hello!" Mason exclaimed, joy filled his deep, monotone voice.

"What the hell?! Why aren't you at work?!" Spencer's voice startled me write a bit. His tone was harsh, threatening.

"We thought because it snowe-"

"Oh, so you're with Leah. I guess you can't blame you for thinking about the snow circumstances," he said, "Just don't let it happen again."

"Sorry, boss." Mason slightly smirked.

"Okay, get here!"

"We've got it!" Mason hung up, turning to me with a smile. "I guess we have to go to work."

"I guess so."

And that's what we did.

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