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'?


73. Hospital Trauma


As soon as we pull up to the house I am jolted awake. I groan loudly as my neck clicks and I am brought back to the reality of my pounding head. After getting back late in the morning (and four hours of sleep) I decided to sleep in the back seats of the car.

“How’s that hang over doing you?” Niall is snickering from the front seat and I do nothing except roll my eyes and try to massage my half asleep, half pounding, face.

“You shouldn’t have drunken so much last night Wally. Me and you hardly ever have a drink. No wonder your hanging.”

“Shut up you.” She’s right, perhaps I shouldn’t have drunken so much last night. But my older sister Olivia had managed to sneak me into one of the best bars in London and neither of us were letting the opportunity go to waste. “Seriously guys though, the place was amazing; we need to go there.”

“I’ve probably been there already -with the boys of course.” Niall laughs at the front and it takes me only a minute to prepare a comeback .

“Oh right. Yeah, that time that Harry brought Taylor over to the UK and she actually got you guys in there? It's pretty exclusive but I’ve heard that she can get anyone into a place like that. She’s quite the celebrity around town and no one can say no to her.”

Niall’s wide eyes and amused smirk are a perfect reaction, until Rosie bursts out laughing and I have to shush her. “No, my head. Pease.”

“That’s fine. At least I’m not jealous of Swiftie's previous love life.”

“Right. Let’s get out before you two start fighting.”

I don’t even have the head space to think about what Niall is trying to insinuate, and so just gather my bags, phone and blankets into my arms to jump out the car. Rosie beats me to it and is already looking through the boot of suitcases. I snatch her keys from her hand a place a quick kiss on her cheek as a thank you. 

If I don't get a glass of water to drink now, then I'm literally gonna be sick. Rosie must be able to tell because she pushes me off of her; steadily towards the front porch and sheltered door.

"Crap." I fiddle with the bunch of keys until I can find the right one and hastily kick the door open once it's unlocked.

A rising feeling in my throat of warm alcohol and fumes is starting to rise when I trip over a pile of something in the doorway. "Agh, fuck. Quickly." Deciding to hold the urge in for a bit longer and be a good friend, I pick the envelopes up to throw them onto the kitchen counter, along with my own possessions.

Luckily I grab a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water just in time to gulp it down and fight the sickness. "ROSIE! POST!" I shout over the giggling I can hear from outside, cringing at my own volume. I watch the pile of letters through the reflection of the garden window in front of me.

This is not a good feeling. I'm so glad that I don't get travel sick easily, otherwise my unsteady stomach could have had a whole different outcome. 

Why the hell did Olivia get me those two last shots of tequila? I'm pretty sure that I was a complete mess when Harry came to pick me up. How did he even get there? The only things that I can vividly remember from last night were the amused expressions on Harry's face as he helped me into the car, when I was just starting to drift off, and Rosie's sigh when she found me in bed as I woke the next morning.

Right now she sighs again, as she comes sashaying into the kitchen, stretching her aching muscles and groaning at the big pile of letters that await. 

The frown that Roselyn wears as she goes through them is tinted with shock and curiosity.

"Any interesting ones?"

"They're all for me, except one. That hardly ever happens here." I think nothing of it and turn back to the sink; downing one more glass of cold, fresh water.

"Is blondie bringing the bags in?" In the time between me looking away and turning back, Rosie has ripped open 3 letters at least. When I catch a glimpse at her face, the pure expression of disgust that clouds her features has stopped me in my tracks. "What is it?"

The silence pounds against my throbbing temples and I can't take it any more. Striding over, to look at what she's holding, I see a cluster of profanities that were disguised beneath the hand written envelopes; finished with stamps and a full address.

My eyes, much to their own horror, have just made out the words of an inexplicable death threat when my mouth moves faster than I would have deemed possible.

"Oh my god... What the hell are these? What the actual fuck?" It is clear to me what they are. The only reason I ask the question is because they are incomprehensible to my faith of most good natured people. Hate mail.

The next sentence leaves me without a second thought "Rosie you have to show these to Niall. He'll know what to do about them."

It is in that moment that she freezes. Everything stops. Her eyes no longer search the papers madly and her fingertips stop shaking as vigorously, whilst holding the notes.

I don't even have a second to react before she drops the papers to the floor and simultaneously darts out of the room. Fight or flight. Rose obviously chose flight.

I whisk them off of the floor and I am chasing her only moments later, much to my aching body's protest, and before long she has beaten me up the stairs; fuelled by either adrenaline or concentrated fear. "Shit. Rosie!" I shout to her as she leaps into her room and slams the door, swiftly locking it, before I have enough time to throw my body against it.

My whole ribcage shudders on impact and I am suddenly frantic. “Rosie!” there isn’t a chance in hell that she’ll be coming out now but it’s worth the try anyway. “Rosie! Come out! We can all talk about this!”

I hear a sob and the turning on of a tap. I cant hear anything over the gushing water and sink to the floor, shaking as I think over what she could be doing right now. Shit, shit. It’s the tell-tale tap sounds that scare me the most. I don’t want it to happen again. Never again.

“Rosie… please come out!” I shout with my head in my hands but I know she won’t hear me, she wouldn’t want to even if she could. Between Niall walking through the door downstairs and hearing me shout, all I can do is push out the bright lights that haunted me in the dingy hospital rooms when we were 13, and wait for him to run up the stairs. The memory does nothing to help my piercing migraine.

“What’s happening?” His eyes are widely spaced and are searching the first floor for some sort of threat.

“Rosie’s locked herself in the bedroom and won’t come out.” The confusion on his features is clear. I hold up the crumpled coloured papers in my hand as an explanation. “These came through the post.”

“Shit.” He takes one from my hand and moans “Fuck” before his eyes have even reached the middle of the paper. “Through her door?” I know what he's thinking -they know where she lives.

“Yup. There are about 5 more downstairs.” My voice is resigned, like I have accepted the fact that there’s nothing more I can do until Rosie has gotten it out of her system, literally. He runs a hand through his fading blonde hair, and I take a minute to wonder if she’s told him, whilst he sits on the patch of carpet next to me.

“She’s not going to come out is she?” I look into his blue eyes, that are tinged with pain and maybe even some guilt. I wish that Miles had shown that amount of caring for me. He used to, but now it is just a thing of the past. I suck in a shaky breath and push the thought from my mind.

“No, she won’t. We’ve just got to wait.”

“Ah, okay.” His hands tremble unsurely and it would be clear to anyone that he’s new to all of this. The girlfriend, the drama, the having to make choices that will affect two different people, not only himself. 

His gruff voice startles me as he stutters “It’s all my fault. If I had never met her-"

“She still couldn’t be half as happy as she is at the moment. And I couldn’t see you looking any better either.” I finish off his sentence and allow him to think it through in his mind.

“Has she done this before?” He jabs at the wooden door behind him with his thumb, obviously agitated as he bites on the nails on his other hand.

“It’s scary, I haven’t seen her do this since, well… a long time ago.” It’s hard to talk about something that I’m unsure of how much he knows. Something that is personal and frightening to me also.

“Rosie’s been through a lot. When she was very little, a baby even, she contracted this disease. I can never remember what it was called, but it restricted her lungs and they weren’t sure if she’d make it to 8 weeks old. Luckily she got past that, but she’s always had a fear of hospitals ‘cause she’d have to go for check-ups every so often.” Niall’s eyes search mine as he tries to figure out where I’m going with this.

I drop the disgusting notes that are still in my hands to the floor and then kick them away from us.

“That fear didn’t make it any easier when her mum’s twin brother was put into hospital after getting caught in between a car chase; a collision with a speeding police car. I think his name was Kenny. Her uncle Kenny.” Niall smiles briefly and so do I.

I realise that my voice has moved to a whisper, even though I know my best friend can’t hear me from her bathroom. “They were close. He adored his niece. Sometime between him going in to hospital and Rosie visiting him for a few months she started to…” I’m suddenly unsure of whether Rosie would want him to know. “I can’t tell you. She has to.” He nods his head understandingly but I have to look away from the curious blue eyes.

“To cut a long story short she was a whole different person to the one she is today for a long while; no laughter, no colour, definitely no smile and she always looked so… so sick.”

“What happened to him?” Niall’s eyebrows are pulled together and his expression is set as hard as stone.

I’m sure that he expects it when I reply “What happened? He never woke up from the coma. Four months later they had to turn off his life support and Rosie practically died with him. That’s when I started to notice the things that her parents didn’t. Weird obsessions, like paranoia, and she was so unhealthy that they had to put her into intensive care.”

A rush of air escapes his throat and I allow him to cover it up with a cough. “She’s so much better now but I still can’t help but worry.”

“So… you can’t tell me what was wrong with her?” He’s genuinely worried and I respect Niall. I really do- otherwise I wouldn’t have told him this much already.

I take his hand and squeeze it as I mutter the words. “No. But she can when she’s ready for you to know.”

“Okay.” He asks no more questions and we sit there in each other’s reassuring silence. Unfortunately I can’t help but grimace as the tap water makes its way in to my mind again; bringing with it the memories of her going to the toilet, in the dead of night, each time I came to stay around her house. The memories of Rosie in her hospital bed when I went to visit her each weekend and evening between going to school. Clinging on to whatever life she had managed to somehow store inside of her bony body, throughout everything that had happened.

She was a fighter that girl. I am proud to be her best friend. Unfortunately I think her shoulders may be starting to crumble under the weight again, and I don't know if there's anything I can do to help her this time.


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