Just Like That

one

just like that // one

Their first meeting goes something like this:

It's a Thursday afternoon, and Niall has no plans and an affection for all things eccentric. She's dangling off the edge of an eight story parking deck and holding a bouquet of ugly weeds in one hand. They talk about airbending.

It takes him by surprise, all things considered.

* * *

Niall's not even sure why he came to the meeting.

Honestly, he's not sure why he ever comes. That is possibly because at least 75% of the time he is inebriated in some sort of way and just makes penis jokes. But today, even when he's sober, there is literally no reason for him to be at this stupid band meeting.

It's the exact same as it always is. Liam does most of the talking, Zayn agrees with whatever Liam says, then they all look at Louis and he pretends he wasn't fucking around with Harry and that he isn't an oversize nine year old and by then there's already a 3/5 majority and Niall's vote doesn't matter.

So. He doesn't really need to be here. "I'm bored," he says suddenly. Everyone around the big table looks at him with unstable glares, varying from warning to absolutely delighted (Harry is definitely really fucking bored too, just too polite to say anything). "I'm gonna leave now."

Liam tosses a pen across the table. It hits the wall behind Niall harmlessly. "So you're good with the whole no drinking while on tour rule?"

"We don't fuck around about that," Niall says seriously. Liam finds pleasure in joking about things that shouldn't be joked about. Like not drinking on tour and the fact that Obama won't be the President forever. Things that shouldn't be joked about.

"We're almost done," some person in a suit insists. He's either a marketing guy or a publicist. "Ten minutes, tops."

Niall rolls his eyes, but settles back into his seat. "I'll give you seven."

* * *

It ends up taking over seven minutes. Niall tries to get up and move once the clock shows that it has clearly been almost eight entire minutes, but Zayn catches his hand and gives him this tiny little pout while shaking his head.

Niall sits back down immediately because Zayn doesn't ask for shit a lot. He's the one that always crosses out 'cantaloupe imported directly from Malaysia' from their list of backstage demands. When he does ask for things, he gets all pouty and sad and it's practically impossible to refuse.

So Niall isn't exactly going to say no. "Wanker," he says under his breath instead. Zayn crinkles his eyebrows together and looks like a sad vogue model who is in desperate need of a cigarette. Niall then apologizes profusely and holds Zayn's hand for the rest of the time.

It ends up taking taking thirty more minutes. Fuck Zayn Malik.

* * *

There's a girl sitting on the ledge of the parking deck. Her hair is piled into some messy bun on top of her head and she's holding some weeds in one of her hands. The plants aren't even the pretty weeds, like dandelions. They're ugly and spiky and probably found in a really shitty, overgrown yard.

Niall stares at her back for a minute, debating and looking around the parking lot to see if there is anyone else to confirm that this is an actual person sitting here on the ledge. "You aren't going to jump, are ya?" he finally asks.

Messy Hair Weed Girl doesn't even flinch. "I think I'm lost."

"You lost yourself?" Niall flicks his hair nervously. He's never had to talk someone out of suicide. "Doesn't mean you should, like, give up, or summat. Although your air bending skills aren't great, and you've got a lot to learn before you're ready to save anyone...I believe you can save the world."