A Long Lost Friend

A trip down memory lane leads me to an old best friend, and some new ones too. One Direction fanfiction.


1. A New Start

London. My new home. I had just turned 16 (Having matriculated early) and I finally ventured out, on my own, to a whole different continent no less, got myself together, and found myself a house. I walked into my already furnished, rather large (but cozy) new home.

‘It’s kind of cold in here…’ I muttered to myself, already feeling the chill creeping up my spine. I took a look around my new home. I had one rather large bedroom upstairs, with an en suite bathroom (Including a bath, a shower, a toilet and two basins.) My room had the largest double bed I had ever seen in my life, a walk in closet, two bedside tables with lamps on top of them, and a couch, facing out of the window. There was also a TV mounted on the wall, with surround sound speakers and a DVD/CD player. Slightly to the right of this was a dressing table and mirror. Another large full-length mirror hung on the wall.

 Also upstairs, there was a guest bedroom that was slightly smaller the main bedroom, with a smaller double bed, and a wall full of cupboards. There was a chest of drawers and a dressing table as well. There was a bathroom across the carpeted hallway, with a shower in it. Both rooms were carpeted as well, in pale beige, almost white coloured carpet.

Leading upstairs was a spiral staircase, which I was sure to fall down at some point, complete with an iron railing. Downstairs, there was a small step, leading down into the living room, complete with leather couches, 2 armchairs and a glass table. There was a large flat screen TV, surround sound speakers and a DVD/CD player. This sat on top of a cabinet, which had space for my DVDs and CDs.

The kitchen was large, with granite counter tops, complete with cabinets underneath that were already filled with pots, pans and glasses. There was the largest fridge that I had ever seen (With all types of English food inside already, yay!) and a gas, state of the art stove.

There was also a downstairs bathroom, similar to the one upstairs. Every room had large windows, with white curtains on them, tied back with golden satin ribbons.

I had a mere 5 boxes, filled with personal things like toiletries, photographs, teddy bears, pillows and fluffy blankets and throw overs and clothes (which I had already unpacked).

I started with the photographs. I walked slowly up the stairs, being very careful not to trip, with the box in my arms and into my room. I pulled the photographs out, carefully unwrapped them from the bubble wrap, and set them on the floor. I had already put some photographs of me with friends and family downstairs, but had saved the best and most special photographs for last.

I put photographs on the dressing table and the chest of drawers. I had saved the most special two for last. I picked up the first photograph of me standing with my entire family, 2 weeks before I left for London. The next photograph had been taken on my last day of matric, with me standing in the middle of my group of friends, arms thrown around each other. I set these side by side on my bedside table, next to which I would be sleeping.

As I walked downstairs to grab some more boxes, I caught sight of myself for the first time since getting off the plane in the full length mirror. I looked horrendous. My mascara ad eyeliner had smudged underneath my eyes, giving me the appearance of a panda bear. My eye shadow was everywhere but on my eyelids, and had gone as far down my face as to mix with my rouge blush. My lip gloss had smudged up my face, spreading sparkle and shimmer all over my cheeks. My hair was knotted on the top of my head, fringe and all, with scraggly, curly bits hanging down the sides of my face. I was in a turquoise Ed Hardy tracksuit, sleeves rolled up, with the pants tucked into my boots. I groaned to myself. “I really need a shower…” I thought.

I ran quickly downstairs, looking for the box with all of my CDs and DVDs in it. I found it, quickly grabbed my one of my two favorite CDs, and ran back upstairs. I popped it quickly into the CD player in my room, and instantly the sounds of One Direction’s Live While We’re Young filled the room.

I danced stupidly into the bathroom, turning the hot tap of the rain shower in my bathroom on, stripped, let my hair out and stepped in.

After I had showered and washed my hair, I grabbed one of the huge, fluffy white towels that were hanging on the towel rack. Luckily I had remembered to turn the heater in my room on, I thought to myself as I wrapped the towel around myself.

As I walked into my room, C’mon C’mon started playing. I sang along at the top of my voice as I walked into my closet to choose an outfit. I was 4 in the afternoon, and I planned on going out to have my first starbucks later, so I chose black leggings, a long sleeved grey shirt that turned to pink at the bottom, and black pumps. Autumn was on its way. I got dressed and walked out of the closet, back into my room and went to turn off the CD.

I caught sight of the boys, reminding me that I had a poster that I had forgotten to stick up. I stuck it up on my wall, next to my bed, my eyes lingering on the blonde on in the photo.

When I was younger, every July my parents sent me up to spend 3 weeks with my grandparents, who lived in Ireland. Up until I was 9, Niall and I had been best friends during those 3 weeks every summer, the year I turned 10, my grandparents died in a car accident, giving me no reason to go up there anymore, putting an end to Niall’s and I’s friendship.

I had supported him from SA when they were on the X-factor, but we hadn’t been in touch since that last summer that I was there. I’m sure that he didn’t remember me anyway. He had millions of girls fawning over him, and although I had never, and would never, think of him romantically, what reason did her have to remember an old best friend? And how was I to know that I was about to take a long trip down memory lane…

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