Blue (Niam AU) (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 13

~Niall~

Something that I had learned to believe was that life never really goes the way you want it to. If you want one thing, you get the other, much worse thing. If you want to be accepted; well you bet your unlucky ass that you won't. Wanna be happy? Prepare for years and years of depression. Maybe you should just say you want all the bad things so you get the good things instead. God, I wonder how my life would have ended up if I'd done that.

Anyway, the next day, Louis thought it would be a good idea to sing while customers were there, considering the reviews we got from Liam and his girlfriend that one day. I knew that it was going to end up bad, but I gave in.

As people passed us, they smiled and gave us good signals as we sang. I smiled back and kept my steady voice smooth, making sure to keep my voice from cracking. It had done that for so many years, and people always found it funny and stupid. The positive responses felt nice, though. Probably the best I had felt in a while.

Singing was my outlet. End of story. Ever since I started learning guitar, my life changed. I'm not sure for the better, but for good. (AN: Sorry! I saw Wicked the day I wrote this and had to put it in!) Then, I started singing about half a year later, and I never stopped. I wrote a few songs as I went through school, but I never showed anyone. Not Louis,  not Harry, not anyone. I still had them in a drawer in my bedroom, but that's where they stayed. My room. My home. Me.

You're being conceited again Niall! Shut up before you feel worse!

Oh, how I loathed my conscience. It told me everything to believe, but it was all true. I mean, it was my head after all. My brain came up with the words I always heard, so it had to be real. It's what helped me get through my teenage years. I was going to be 20 within the next 4 months, so it worked. It told me what to do, when to do it, and why to do it. And I shouldn't have loath it. I should've depend on it.

Around the middle of the morning, when it was almost noon, a man who looked to be in his 50s came up to us and smiled.

"You guys are really good," he said, "I've always liked people with talent." He had a thick Irish accent like me. I looked at him and froze. I knew exactly who it was.

"Why thank you," Louis said, turning to face the man, "We have been singing together for about three years now."

"That's so interesting! You know, my son could never do anything like this. I mean, he sucked at playing guitar and singing. He tried, but sadly failed." He chuckled a little at his words. I looked down and held on tight to my guitar.

"Anyway," the man said, "I need some help finding the Prince CDs. Ever he died my wife wanted all of his albums, and we only have a CD player."

Wife? Oh, look at that! He's fully abandoned you and your mother! Oh wait, you've known that since the first time he-

I stopped listening then. I sighed and stood up, guiding the man to the CDs, where a woman with bright blonde hair with some grey was standing.

"Katie," he said, "this kind man is showing us the Prince section." She smiled and clapped her hands.

"Oh, goody!" Katie exclaimed, "And what a handsome worker, too!"

Cougar much? You aren't handsome Niall. She just wants into your pants.

I guided them to the middle of the aisle and showed them the albums. I for a few out for them.

"Thank you sir," the man said gently. I hadn't heard him speak like that years, "What's your name so I can put a good review on this place for my review site?" I sighed and shook my head.

"I don't say my name," I muttered, getting out a few more CDs.

"Oh come on," Katie said, "Bobby will sure leave a great review on this place. Just tell us." I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

Tell them.

No, I-

Tell them!

I didn't wa-

TELL THEM!

I sighed once more, giving into my conscience.

"I'm Niall," I said with a straight face, "and my help is done for." I then walked away. Before I could make it to the back room, a felt a strong, familiar hand grip onto my wrist.

"I should have known it was you," Bobby snarled, "Those pathetic blue eyes of yours should have told me. You get them from your mother." I bit my lip.

"Let go of me Bobby." I said in a low voice.

"Oh Niall," he cooed evilly, "why not just call me dad?"

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