Always. It's a strong word. It can mean a lot, like how it meant to me when Niall told me he'd always love me. It can be a word that means nothing, like how it meant to Niall when he said he'd always love me. And then the next day, he left Mullingar and never came back. And I was alone. Always.


3. Leaving

"Clover! Where are you?!" I heard my dad's thick Irish accent from inside the house.

"I'm coming, dad!" I called back and dashed out of the field and through the back door.

"Where were you?!" He demanded.

"Sorry, dad. Just outside."

"Okay, well, can you make breakfast?" He asked. I knew he wasn't asking, though. It might've been in the form of a question, but he meant for me to do it.

"Eggs and bacon? Coffee?" I asked. He nodded and I got started. Once I was finished, I served the food and drink to him. "So, dad... I've been thinking. And you know what tomorrow is, right?" He looks at me.


"My twentieth birthday!"

"Oh, well, go on."

"Well, when I turned eighteen and asked to move, you said I had to be twenty. So, I kind of want to move to London."

"Hmm. Okay. Well, I honestly didn't give a fuck when you left. It was your mum who wanted you to be twenty."

"Oh." That was a real conversation-stopper. When I was ten, my mum had died in a car accident very close to home. My dad was very depressed, and soon became an alcoholic. Now, except for in the mornings, I rarely see him sober. We can't afford to take him to the doctor or anything like that, and there's really nothing I can do. "Well, I'll get packed." I ran upstairs and into my room. I opened the third drawer of my dresser and looked at my big jar of money. I'd been saving it since I was seventeen. The day Niall left, I told myself that one day I'd go to London too. Not that he'd care. Now he's in some band. I never knew he left to try out for some TV show until I saw him on it. Even though he chose fame over me, I never stopped loving him. I lifted the heavy jar out and set it on my floor. I counted out five hundred and sixteen euros. I had a lot of part-time jobs. A lot. I looked up a cheap ticket for a plane on my phone and ordered one for only sixty five euros. I'd need the extra money for an apartment, food, and clothes. Once I had all of my things packed, I set them next to the door of my room. I emptied the jar into a black bag and sat down on my bed.


Next Day


I woke up early, way before my dad. I quickly dressed into some skinny jeans, a white sweater, and some brown combat boots. I wrapped a brown and white scarf around my neck to tie it all together, and tied my hair into a messy ponytail. Then, I put on a bit of makeup and looked at my appearance in the mirror. Eh. Good enough. I tiptoed into my dad's room. Hell, I hadn't been in there in years. It smelled of alcohol and dirty socks, and there were empty bottles scattered about. I shook him awake.

"Dad. Dad." He snorted and his eyes opened.


"I'm leaving."

"Oh, right, right. Bye, Clover." No hugs. No kisses. Just a 'bye, Clover'. Some dad. I rolled my two big suitcases downstairs and opened the door. I got into my dad's MGA 1500 Coupe he'd given me. It was old and smelled like goats, but it was better than nothing. My luggage barely fit, but I jammed it in there. Once I had arrived at the airport, I parked my car and went inside. I waited for what seemed like ages in the line until I showed them my ticket on my phone and was led to the boarding area. Finally, my flight was called, and I boarded the plane. I sighed once I was settled. This is it. I finally might get to meet the love of my life again. And then maybe I won't be so alone.

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