Roses for Roselyn (Niall and Harry Fanfictions)

She was just an ordinary, grounded girl with a young, obsessive sister... little did she know that her sister's biggest idol was obsessing over her. Join Rosie and Rachel on their journey in love, friendship, obsession, fame and passion. What will happen? Who will happen? And most importantly, how will they cope with the disadvantages of 'the good life'?

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74. "Be Brave. Be Strong."

ROSIE'S POV:

By the time I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, against the comfortingly cold tiled floor, I'm not even entirely sure how I got here.

I remember seeing the vile words that gave no value to my life, and worrying how the cruel writers had gotten my address, but the rest of it was just a blur that consisted of Rachel saying Niall's name and my legs taking me further than I knew possible. The thought of having to admit my defeat to him whilst he was always so strong was terrifying. I needed to be strong. I need to be; I can't let him see me like this, slumping back against the cool tiled bath and allowing my vision to go in and out of focus as his fan’s words haunt my mind.

There is pounding on the door outside and I go to switch the tap on, to quite literally drown out the sound, but it stops after a while and is quickly replaced by the sound of gentle voices.

My arms are still jostling around my knees as I cling on to them; as shaky as dry leaves in a winter wind. 

Suddenly feeling a rising burn from my stomach to my chest, I rock towards the toilet and lean over just in time to empty the contents of my stomach. No. No, I can't do this. Not again. I promised myself that I wouldn't.

I can't handle it though, and I am sick for at least 5 minutes, until there is nothing but bile left.

It's one of the most crushing feelings ever; especially to be defeated by one of your own promises. How is it even possible? I promised myself... and still broke it.

I don’t want to go through everything again, I don’t ever want to repeat that deathly situation. I lower my weight backwards, into the position where I can hug my legs to chest against the bath again. There is a slight rock in my body as I soothe myself and I suddenly wish that Niall was here with me. Even Rachel would be able to comfort me better than I can comfort myself.

I take a while to just think things through. El and Sophia had told me how lucky I was to receive so many nice messages over twitter. A handful of hate letters shouldn’t phase me –but they do. It’s true what people say. It’s like the saying ‘Tell a girl she’s beautiful and she’ll remember it for a day, tell a girl she’s ugly - she’ll remember every word you say.’

I used to think it was stupid, how celebrities could get so worked up and stressed about hate messages, when they were living such an easy life. But now I can empathise with anyone who’s ever received anything like I have. What does that make me? A celebrity? I hope not.

Celebrity is such a dull word. It’s like ‘famous’. Who wants to be ‘famous’? I’d much rather be kind and sweet and funny and be able to make people feel at ease in my presence. ‘Famous’ and ‘celebrity’ are such unflattering and pointless qualities. Harry and I had a chat about this a few nights ago and we were completely in agreement with what the other person was saying. I’m sure most of the boys would agree with us, it was just that Harry was the one who had spoken to me about this specific topic of conversation and was apparently well known within the media for putting across this particular opinion.

Sometime later, I decide to get up and shake my aching limbs but can’t bear to actually put the effort in to do it. Rubbing my hands under my slightly moist eyes I wonder how long I’ve been sat here. My phone reads 16:32 –just under an hour then. It had been nice to sit here, solitary to my own thoughts, able to get my emotions out without an audience for the first time this week. Having people around at all times -even One Direction and your best friend- can weigh you down sometimes. Especially when you always need to wear a huge smile and look your best for the constant, and unrealistic, happiness of those around you.

Someone must have text El to tell her what happened because I have received at text from her and it buzzes in my hand, telling me that it is quite recent.

“Hey gorgeous. Be strong. Don’t forget we all love you –try not to push Niall away, he can help you more than you can help yourself at times like these. Let him help. Be brave. Love El and Lou x”

Underneath is a picture of the two of them cuddled up in their apartment with over-exaggerated smiles. It does the trick as I smile at the two people who are so perfectly matched for each other. Eleanor has become a good friend already, in the short space of time that I’ve known her. Just like the boys; it feels like I’ve known them all for ages. Now that I’m here, I don’t think that I would be able to go back to my average life without being able to refer to them as friends, or more in Niall’s case. They are the lights in my life right now. I think of their names Niall, Rachel, El, Louis, Zayn, Harry, Liam and Sophia. They -and my family- give me the exact encouragement that I need, after a little time alone, to brush myself off and face any future problems with courage.

I push myself up and go to the sink to brush my teeth of the acidy taste inside my mouth. I hate being sick. I hate it with a passion.

Feeling motivated enough to take on what Eleanor said, I take small steps to the door and look through the keyhole. All I can see is a tuft of blonde hair sitting back against the door. I open it slowly, so that it doesn’t surprise Niall as I take a seat on the carpet behind him, and the guilt twinges in my throat, all the way down to my legs.

He turns quickly and catches my eyes. “Ah Rosie.” I’m enveloped in a steady hug that is gentle and caressing at the same time. “Don’t ever do that to me again, okay? You fucking scared me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Admittance is always the first step.

“We need to talk about things like this. If you’re in this because of me then we stick together the whole way.” His arms are big enough to reach behind my back to the opposite shoulders, without him even having to reach. “We’re in this together and we need to trust each other.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I can feel his pounding heart beat against my own. I am a terrible person for putting my two favourite people through this. “You’re right –I… I keep feeling like a burden to you, and I don’t want to be, but you’re right I need to start trusting that you will help me through this! If I don't then… then I'm just making it worse… for myself and now I'm babbling..." He snickers slightly and pushes a strand of hair back from my eyes.

"I really like you Rosie. You have to remember that."

"I really like you too." It's the least that we can do for the moment -we agreed that we wouldn't say the 'L' word. Though I must admit it’s getting very hard not to. I feel like we are a pair of shy and foolish school children when he takes my hand to kiss the knuckles quickly and then we both start giggling, sitting on the cream carpet under my doorway.

"I think sometimes I forget how lucky I am. I'm not going to take it for granted anymore." He smiles at what I say and his gorgeous cheek bones, from so many years of laughing, become pronounced.

"Good. Me neither." My eyes fall on the letters that are littered over the ground. He follows my gaze. "Rosie don't listen to any of them. For every one bad message, you get a thousand good ones. They are the ones that me and you should be paying attention to; not wasting our time on disgusting people like them."

"Yeah. You're right." It comes out as a sigh but I give him a smile to correct my bad behaviour before. El’s right. He completely understands what I’m going through and talking to him is already making things feel better.

"They're crappy people and crappy letters and none of them will ever have what we do. That's why they're jealous. It's just..."

"Crap?"

"Yeah." He laughs at his repetitive swearing and lack of choice for words.

"What should we do about them?"

"Forget?"

"That sounds good but like, where should we put them?"

"Management normally take threats like that quite seriously so we'll have to file them. That okay with you?"

"Sure whatever." I don't really care, as long as I don't have to look at them again.

"Should we go downstairs and find Rachel then?"

"Yeah."

"Sure you’re not going to throw another tantrum on me today?" He's only joking.

"Shut up." I can't help but giggle as he mimics my London accent, even though I'm adamant that I don't have one, and he pulls me up by the elbows to go downstairs.

We forget the letters on the hallway carpet behind us and allow them to be something of the past. Eleanor’s words echo in my head and I imagine her dainty, Yorkshire accent telling me to ‘be strong, be brave’ as she bounces back and forth on her toes, making her dark curls swing from side to side around her face. 

©nialls_tribute

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