Blue (Niam AU) (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 19

~Liam~

I didn't want to do anything the next day. I just wanted to be at Niall's side in the hospital. I was still in shock and pain from the night before. Everything had happened so fast that it was so hard to let everything sink in. I barely slept that night because I was scared for Niall. I literally just watched Andy sleep like a baby for hours. He and I weren't on good terms. I told him about seeing him kiss Cheryl, and our friendship broke apart like that. I was fine with that, though. That just meant that I didn't have to deal with him anymore, except for in the mornings and at nights.

I went to sleep at 3am and woke up at 7. 4 hours of sleep, and it was all restless. I had dreams about Niall dying, his funeral, and all that awful stuff. Andy kept asking me why I was in such a bad mood, but I didn't tell him anything. I just got up, took a shower, got dressed, and went down for breakfast. Half of the class was already in the cafe area, eating their breakfast biscuits and drinking coffee. I bought a coffee cake and peppermint tea and sat at a small table. Many students were on their laptops, tweeting about London and writing their paper already. We were two weeks in and they were already starting. Nice.

"Did you see that blond guy at the karaoke place last night?" I heard a girl ask her friend from behind me.

"Yeah I did," her friend responded, "he was so good!"

"Too bad he left so soon. We could've congratulated him."

"Yeah, plus he was really cute."

And mine, I thought. I heard a chair move and a grunt as someone sat down.

"Are you two talking about that guy who sang that depressing song at the club?" I think those girls nodded, because the guy went on, "He must have been suicidal or something. He was crying like a baby afterward. He was such a coward." I gripped onto my tea cup and sipped the drink to calm me down.

"Don't be rude, Dan," a girl said, "that song was emotional in general."

"For girls!" Dan cried, "I bet he's gay. Only gays act like girls. He must be one of those flamboyant bitches who always paint their nails and wear makeup and stuff."

I had to literally kick myself in the shin to stop myself from turning around and punching that guy. He and his friends were definitely not from the university, because they were all British. I was the only guy from the UK in all of the Journalism classes.  They must have been on a buddy's trip or something. He was being so rude to someone he didn't even know! I knew the person he was talking about very well, and he didn't have the right to say what he was saying.

"Attention all journalism students from New York University!" I heard my professor say. I turned my head to face him.

"We are now heading to the conference," he announced in a projected voice, "please throw away and food or drinks you have left and make your way to St. Kurt's Plaza now. Be there by 8!" I looked at the time on my phone.

7:37

I stood up and drank down the rest of my tea, the heat of the liquid burning the back of my throat as it made its way into my body. I threw the cup and the paper bag my coffee cake was in and double checked that I had everything.

Phone.

Pen.

Paper.

Niall's note...

I had everything. I quickly left the cafe, then the hotel. I used a map on my phone to find the outdoor plaza/park area. After about 10 minutes of walking, I finally made it. The plaza was a garden with a beautiful gazebo in the middle. Many chairs were placed in rows in front of the white structure and a microphone was being tested from the gazebo. About a third of the students were there already, getting their paper and writing utensils ready to jot down notes. I sat down next to a boy named Rob and got ready to listen to the speaker.

At 8, everyone was there with the proper supplies to take notes. The speaker, who was a middle aged man from Sweden, spoke about the reasons people write. It wasn't anything necessarily factual, but it seemed to be true.

"People write best from experience," he explained, "The thing I have been through were the backbones to my best and favorite pieces. Now, I know the college class here today is Journalism, not creative writing, but it still counts. I used to write in a journal every day. After many entries about my life, I began to write poems and short stories. I took things I knew and interpreted them into my work. My favorite book I have written was about my struggle growing up. I had no dad, and my mother was never really there. My sister was the only person who took care of me. Margot Meets Michael is about a girl who needs a boy named Michael to help her with her struggles. Yes, they fall in love in the end, but the main theme was that Margot found out what she really wanted in life. She found her happy place. She called it her 'blue' age, considering her favorite color was blue. Find an inspiration for your story. Find that sole backbone to your theme, plot, dialogue, and every other aspect that you can connect in your story. Believe me, it works. Going on, I-"

I finished taking notes from that section of his speech. I then felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I slowly slid the phone out, seeing that Louis was calling me. He was with Niall at the hospital, along with Harry, and said that he'd call me when he heard anything about Niall. I had to take the call.

I swiftly exited my seat and went to my professor, who was standing in the back, listening to the presentation.

"Professor Newman?" I asked, and he turned to me.

"Mr. Payne," he whispered to me, "what are your doing away from the speech?"

"I need to answer a call. It's actually really important and I can't wait another hour to answer this." Prof. Newman sighed and nodded.

"Make it quick," he said, turning his attention back to the speaker. I quickly ran to a different part of the plaza and called Louis back, putting the phone to my ear.

"Finally!" Louis yelled into the phone.

"Sorry," I apologized, "I was doing something with my class. How's Niall?" I bit my lip, nervous to hear.

"He's going to live. The doctor stitched up his slits and pumped all the acetaminophen out of his system. He only took about 10 pills, so it didn't destroy him. The cuts weren't that deep. The blood clotted pretty fast, so he didn't loose a dangerous amount. He got pretty lucky there."  I smiled as he said those words. My Niall was going to live.

"Is he awake?" I asked.

"No," Louis answered, "but he should wake up later today. You should be here when he does."

"I'm kinda at a seminar right now..."

"When does it end?" It thought for a second before answering him.

"At 10.  I'll head over there as soon as my professor releases us."

"Great! See you soon!"

"Bye Louis," I said before hanging up. I quickly made my way back to my seat and listened to the rest of the speech.

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