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?


8. Chapter Seven


Niall's POV

The consistent beep of a heart monitor sounded beside me. "When will he wake up?" A very known voice made me grin. My mum.

"As soon as the medication kicks in," a unfamiliar voice informed. "Which should be soon."

I felt the IV painfully pinching into the skin of my wrist; I just wanted to rip the tube from my body. My eyelids tried prying themselves open, but the amount of my soreness made it almost impossible.

I tried once again, barely succeeding. Light shined through the cracks that were millimeters in size. My sky orbs shot open, the light blinding me.

While my eyes were still adjusting to the new brightness, two muscular arms wrapped around me. I found myself buried in Greg's shoulder. "Thank God," he mumbled.

He pulled away, revealing everyone I would expect. Mum, dad, Greg, his wife, and the Hollows. And of course, the doctor.

"What happened?" I asked running my fingers through my hair.

The doctor tapped his pen on his clipboard. " passed out due to hunger."

"But, I-"

"Vomited blood? Yes, that can happen."

I shuddered as I scanned my mind for the last time I had a actual meal. Probably a week ago. This was bizarre, since I usually couldn't go an hour without food.

I stared at my wristband in a ashamed way, twirling the paper around my wrist. I wasn't skinny; I wasn't fat; I wasn't healthy.

"Niall," the doctor announced, taking some of his graying hair between his fingers. "Did you hear what I said?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry," blood rushed to my cheeks, but all of it disappeared once he said his next words.

"You're anorexic."

My face became cold and my voice was barely audible. "Wh-what?" My voice cracked like a pubescent boy.

"You have all the symptoms. So, I diagnosed you with it."

"When....when can I go home?" I questioned, scared for my boxing.

He shook his head. "When you start eating right again. Until then, your match is off."

"WHAT?!" My voice was loud enough for the entire wing to hear.

"Niall..." Mum put her hands on my shoulders.

"He has no right-" she stopped me.

"I thought it was best for you. It was my decision," she informed.

"But...give me my phone. I want to talk to my therapist," I demanded holding my hand out.

"We discussed this with Tatum. She agreed."

I scowled and crossed by arms over my chest like a child. "This is my first match....fucking bullshit," I grumbled.

"Since you can't box....I brought your guitar." My dad handed me the instrument. I gripped the neck, running over the strings. I hadn't played in forever; I hadn't even touched my guitar in years.

Probably because Alicia loved it when I played. I sighed, gently placing the guitar at the foot of my bed.

"What's wrong?" Dad asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

I groaned placing my face in my hands. "Nothing."

Everyone gave me goodbyes- they were going to lunch- and left me alone. I eyed the instrument lying at my feet, before picking it up.

I started strumming random chords when the memories flooded in.


"Niall...,"she whined into the phone.  

"Why?" I laughed, debating the idea.

"Because, it helps me sleep," Alicia giggled, making me grin.

"Ahhh..whatever," I sighed, standing up and grabbing my guitar.

"Yey!" She cheered. "Okay. See ya, then." I repeated her last words and hung up. With my guitar gripped in my hand, I climbed out my open window.

I walked across the street to find Alicia sitting in her front lawn- right in front her window- her hair draped on one shoulder. I smiled shyly, dropping myself next to her.

"What do you want me to play?" I asked.

She smiled. "Something you wrote." She rested her head on my shoulder.

I started playing one of my favourites, Last First Kiss. I wrote one year before.

"Baby, let me be your last, your last first kiss," I sang, looking at her eyelids that covered her honey irises. I hated it when she closed her eyes- I couldn't see them- so instead I just looked to the stars.

Her hand grabbed mine, making me stop playing. I furrowed my eyebrows together and faced her. A pair of warm lips hit mine, I kissed back immediately.

She slowly broke the kiss, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry," she said, breaking the awkward silence that came over us.

"What?" I asked my voice barely audible.

"Bye, Niall."

"Um...okay." I trudged home, slamming my guitar on the floor. It broke into pieces, ripped apart.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

:Flashback Over:

"That's beautiful," a feminine voice said, making me look up. Her jade eyes fell on my guitar.

"Thanks," I smiled a crooked smile.

"I'm Brooklyn." She stepped into the room, a IV was still hooked to her arm and she dragged it along with her.

"Niall," I informed. Her long, curly, black hair was topped off with a purple beanie. Sweatpants hung off her small waist and a black tank top covered her top half, along with a black hoodie.

"Why are you here?" She asked.

I looked down at the white sheets covering the bed. "I-I have anorexia," I paused. "What about you?"

"I have thyroid cancer. But, it's not fatal." Weird, I would think someone with cancer wouldn't have hair.

"Oh, good. Well, not good that you have cancer, but good that it's not bad. I'm sorry." She giggled at my shyness. "What are you doing on this wing?"

"I've got a friend on this wing. I heard you playing and I came to listen." she shrugged.


"My dad is a music producer, ya know. I could get you in on the music biz."

I shook my head. "No thanks."

I auditioned for X-Factor and got in. Halfway through bootcamp, I got the call and went home after her death.

"Eh, your loss," she said. "See you around?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good," she winked, walking out the room.

I groaned when the butterflies filled my gut. No, no Niall.

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