𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙀 𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙀𝘿 ↣ 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

1. GOOD YEARS

I took a deep breath and looked at my reflection.

Twenty-two year old Mickey Horan stared back at me.

Twenty-two year old Mickey that had just graduated NYU with a degree in Business Administration and still had no idea what to do with it.

I was never supposed to survive. I had come so close to dying so many times over. But now? I was alive. I was living. Living for me consisted of a lot of things, and those things changed pretty constantly.

Tonight, living meant participating in the Late Late Show's "spill your guts" segment for the second time in my life. The first time, I realized, was almost six years ago.

Where did the time go?

I watched the TV closely, waiting for my cue to start waking out. I zoned out, and instead took just a moment to think.

In the last four years, I had done a lot of growing up. All of the boys had, too. Niall, Harry, and Zayn had all dropped a solo album. Liam was working on his. And honestly, I wasn't sure what Louis was doing. When we got the chance to talk, which wasn't often, we didn't talk about music. One Direction was separate but the fandom that followed them was still strong.

As for my relationship with the boys? It was complicated.

I lived in LA with Harry and Niall. I had visited both of them at least once a month since finishing college last year. We were no where as closed as we used to be back when we lived together in the same house, or the same tour bus, but we were close enough.

Zayn and I FaceTimed every Sunday morning for me, which was Saturday night for him. During my time at university, Zayn Malik was the one thing keeping me sane. He talked to me about my problems, and he was there for me to call if I woke up from a nightmare.

Liam and I talked a few times a month, if that. He was busy, and I was busy, but we were still as close as ever. Liam was always there when I needed him for guidance.

Louis and I had only talked a few times over the last four years. We couldn't talk, the contract demanded as much. But when we did get the chance to talk, we had a lot to say.

"...as soon as Mickey realizes I'm hosting the show tonight instead of James Corden she'll be right out." Harry's voice played through the speaker in my dressing room. I blinked back into focus. "Any second now," he drawled.

I shot up out of my seat. Harry's here, I haven't seen him in three weeks. I ran down the hallway, closer to the set. I didn't slow down on my entrance. Instead, I stumbled onto the set and whipped my head around, looking for Harry. The audience screamed and I smiled.

"There you are," Harry said brightly. I laughed and ran to pull him into a hug. "It's only been like three weeks since you've seen me, darling."

"I know, but still," I said. I pulled away and smiled. "You could've told me you were hosting!"

"That would have ruined the surprise," Harry said. I rolled my eyes at the boyishness he managed to keep. "Let's sit, we have lots to dish out."

"Right," I drawled. Harry and I sat down on opposite ends of a round table.

"Now, before we get started, there's another guest I would like to welcome," Harry said. I furrowed my eyebrows. "Can we get a warm welcome for Niall Horan?"