#nhff

When you first fell in love with Niall he was a shock of blonde hair, a bundle of excited energy, rosy red cheeks, a smile that stopped you in your tracks. You’d been at some stupid football party, dragged along by your freshman year roommate who had a crush on the goalie. Neither of you imagined you’d be going home with the rookie midfielder that night. 

But here you are, four years later, and he’s fully yours—and you’re still just as distracted by him as you were that night. You love him so much it hurts, sometimes: a weird, stabbing sadness that overwhelms you when you’re so happy you could burst. He makes you so happy that you mourn. You can’t believe there was a time before him. You can’t imagine a time after him. 

‘You’re starin’ again,’ Niall looks over the cover of his book, blue eyes smiling. It’s late, and you can tell he’s tired, but he always has time for you. ‘Everything alright?’

‘Yeah, sorry,’ you tell him, resisting the urge to get up off your desk chair, to crawl into bed and curl up next to him. ‘Was just thinking.’ 

‘What about?’ He puts the book down now, sits up. ‘That’s not your happy thinking face.’ 

‘Just, like,’ you drop your head back, eyes trained on the ceiling now. ‘Graduating, stuff like that.’

‘We’ve still got six months, petal,’ he tells you. ‘Don’t need to worry about that right now.’

‘I know, I just,’ you don’t know how to explain it, the feeling in your chest when you imagine what comes after. ‘I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Huh?’

‘Like, when we graduate.’

‘Who said you’re losin’ me? I’m not going anywhere, and, unless you haven’t told me yet, you’re not either.’ He sounds confused, a little worry creeping into his voice. 

‘No,’ you look at him now, his furrowed brow, his messed up hair. Your heart could burst. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. ‘Just, this. Losing this. Growing up.’ 

‘Oh, lover,’ Niall softens all at once, an exhale that you feel in your own chest, too. ‘Come here, yeah? No one’s losing anything.’ 

And you do, of course. You forget about your work, because fuck the thesis, it can wait, and you cross the room, and you go to him. You go home. 

‘I love you,’ you tell him, crawling up the bed and curling into him. He wraps you up in his arms easy, and you bury your face in his neck. ‘Sorry for being weird.’

‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ Niall rubs your back, gentle. ‘It’s mad, graduating and shit. But we’re gonna be okay. We’ve got each other and whatever else comes… we can handle it.’ 

You pick your head up, maneuvering a little so you can be face to face with him, so you can tangle your hands up in his darkening hair, can press your lips to the stubble growing on his chin. You’re safe here. Niall exhales, hands coming down to rest on your waist. ‘I love you,’ you tell him again, another kiss to his chin, then one to each corner of his lips. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too, petal,’ he promises, your lips hovering over his. They’re parted just so slightly, his chest rising and falling as his breath speeds up. ‘No matter what, yeah? Always.’ 

‘Always,’ you promise too, your stomach stirring. You love him so much you could devour him. 

When you kiss him he exhales, a little whine in the back of his throat. It’s mad, how quickly you do this to each other, how the energy is always there, under the surface, how you’re always on the same wavelength about it. He slides his hands up under your jumper and you tug on the bottom of his hoodie, already desperate to get it off. You need his skin on yours more than you think you’ve ever needed anything. You might cry, you think, if you don’t get it immediately. 

Out of breath, Niall pulls back from the kiss and tugs his hoodie up over his head. His hair is a wreck, his cheeks bright red, a light smattering of chest hair under his collarbones. You see him like this every single day, and he still takes your breath away. 

‘Still starin’,’ a smug smile tugs at the corner of his lips. 

‘You’re so fucking fit,’ you tell him honestly. He knows you think it, anyway. 

‘Honestly,’ he laughs, moving his hands up, up, up, under your sweater, ‘you should be most worried about how unfit I’ll be when I’m not playing football every day.’ Through the thin fabric of your lounge bra, he brushes a thumb over your nipples. ‘You might not want me anymore.’

You hiss as he does it again, this time pushing the fabric down just enough that he brushes the skin. Your body jerks closer to him without your control, and you lean forward to kiss the smug look off his face. 

‘Impossible,’ you tell him, as he pulls his hands away, quick, to get your jumper off. He tosses it to the end of the bed, then leans back on his hands to look at you. 

With anyone else, you’d feel exposed like this: straddling Niall in your bra and leggings, him leaning back to get a good look at your body. Your chest is heaving but his is too, a flush working its way down toward his nipples, and you don’t feel exposed. You feel like art. You feel good. 

‘Fucking stunning,’ he says, running a hand over the back of his neck. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘Shut up and do something about it,’ you tell him, because you feel electric and you don’t want to stay still, not like this. ‘Or I’ll take care of it myself.’

‘Ah,’ Niall shakes his head, blue eyes darkening. ‘We can’t be having that. Lay down, yeah? I’ll take care of ya.’ 

You scramble off him and do exactly that, settling down on your bed and looking back up just in time to watch him strip down to his boxer briefs, to watch how his muscles flex as he crawls up the bed, straddles your thighs. You reach up to touch and he lets you, one hand wrapping around the thick of his thigh, the other gently playing with the waistband of his underwear. You ignore where he’s hard, watching his heaving chest, watching the way he watches you. 

‘So pretty,’ he tells you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He trails kisses down, over your jaw and your neck, sliding his hands up to your breasts as he does. Easy, he shimmies the straps of your bra down over each shoulder as he sucks a hickey into your neck, then pulls it down the rest of the way, until he can twist it around to get it unclasped. He sits up just long enough to get rid of it, leaving you cold and exposed, feeling unfathomably lonely until his body is on top of yours again. You whine, just a little. 

‘Needy,’ he smirks, lips against your breastbone, hands on the waistband of your leggings. ‘You need me, petal?’

When you don’t answer right away he slides his hand down a little more, resting between your legs, over your leggings. Two fingers press against you, and, this time, you whine even louder. ‘I said,’ he applies more pressure, voice stern. ‘Do you need me, petal?’

‘Yes, yeah,’ you gasp, hips bucking up into his hands. ‘Please.’

‘Where?’ 

‘Please,’ you close your eyes, feeling electric. ‘There.’

‘Here?’ Niall asks, a little more pressure now. ‘Just like this? This is what you need?’

‘No, no—’ you turn your head to press your cheeks into the pillow. You’re burning up, soaking through your leggings.

‘No?’ Niall pulls his fingers away, and even with your eyes closed you can hear the smile in his voice. ‘Petal, you just said—’

‘Underneath, please,’ you know the game he’s playing, what he wants to hear, but it doesn’t make it any easier. ‘Please, take them off.’ 

‘Oh, I see,’ Niall taps his fingers against you again, then moves up to touch under your chin, tilt your head back to face him. ‘Open your eyes, lover. Good girl.’ His fingers push gently against your lips, and you already know, before he says anything. ‘Suck.’

Eyes locked on his, you part your lips just enough for him to press three fingers in, and do as he says. His fingers are thick and they make your mouth water even more, make you whine around him, imagining where they’ll be next.

He takes his time, you know he likes the view. 

‘That’s good,’ he pulls his fingers away abruptly. ‘Good girl. You still want me?’

You nod, eager, and Niall leans down for one more gentle, loving kiss. He’s so good at this: switching back and forth between bossy and soft, always reminding you how much he loves you, how this game can end as soon as you say so. It makes your chest swell, but you don’t want it to end. 

He pulls back, mouth still hovering over yours. ‘Take your leggings off,’ he says, lips brushing yours as he speaks. Then, he sits back, and watches. 

You do it quick, shimmying the leggings off and shoving them over the side of the bed. You go to pull your underwear down but he stops you with a hand on your hip, a gentle squeeze. 

‘That’s enough,’ he tells you, gently pressing his fingers to you, over your underwear. It’s a mess: his wet fingers, your underwear soaked through, and you used to find this embarrassing, the way you’d be so wet that he could feel it through the cotton. But you’re not embarrassed around Niall anymore.

‘So pretty,’ he says, rubbing gentle circles into the seat of your underwear. You’re whimpering underneath him, and he’s flushing up, too. ‘All this for me?’

‘Yeah,’ you nod quickly. ‘Always for you.’

‘That’s a good girl,’ he says again, pulling his fingers away. You whine loudly but he’s way ahead of you, his lips against the cotton of your underwear before you can even finish complaining. You gasp, hips buckling, hands coming up to tangle in his hair, and he goes for it, mouthing against you, one hand holding your thighs open, the other teasing at the waistband of your knickers. It’s absurd, the way he’s doing this through cotton and you’re still losing your mind, grasping at the bedsheets with your free hand, whimpering so loudly that you worry about your roommates downstairs in the kitchen. 

He’s masterful, the way his fingers work their way underneath to touch your skin, the way he slips one inside as he continues to work his lips over the cotton. You’re practically crying with it by the time he gets your underwear off all the way, tangled up in your ankles as he dives back in, mouth on you, finally, finally, finally. 

‘Niall,’ you tug at his hair, tossing aside the thought that one day in the not so distant future it’ll be completely brunette hair in your hands, all the blonde forever gone. ‘Please.’

He hums against you and you really could cry now, so overwhelmed with how good you feel, how close to it you feel. He’s staring at you, blue eyes on yours, which you can barely keep open. You can feel it when he smirks, the same time as he winks, and gets properly to work. 

It doesn’t take long at all, once he’s got his mind set on it. Fingers alongside his tongue he’s got it down to a science, almost, giving and taking, sucking and kissing, soaking wet and so, so, so, overwhelming. You shut your eyes but the image doesn’t go away: his face between your legs, your thighs up on his broad shoulders. You can feel his muscles flexing and working and it’s enough, for some reason the thought of his back, strong and smooth and all for you, is enough, to send you gasping, crying, flailing over the edge. 

He takes you through it gently, so that when you calm down and open your eyes he’s kissing between your legs so, so lovingly, big hands gentle on the insides of your thighs. You release your tight grip in his hair and exhale shakily, a whimper falling from your lips as you do.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says, pressing one last kiss to your clit before he crawls back up your body. You can taste yourself when he kisses you on the lips, can feel the way his stubble is soaking with the mess you made. ‘I love you so much.’

‘I love you too,’ you tell him, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Love doesn’t feel big enough.

You make out gently for a while, his fingers gentle between your legs to keep you wet and open. You can feel where he’s hard against your thigh and it drives you to madness, the thought of what comes next.

‘Are you going to fuck me?’ You ask finally, lips still pressed to his.

‘That what you want?’ He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it.

‘Please,’ you tell him, swallowing a gasp as he brushes your clit. ‘Please.’

‘Anything,’ he tells you, one more kiss to your lips. ‘Hands and knees for me, petal?’

You nod quickly, done stalling, and quickly scramble over for him. Behind you, you hear the drawer open and shut quickly, and the sounds of a condom. When you look over your shoulder he’s naked and pumping himself, cock so hard you feel a lump in your throat. He’s fucking stunning. 

‘Look at you,’ he says softly, gasping in a deep breath as he slides the condom onto himself. ‘Wish you could see my view.’

He shuffles up the bed and comes to a rest behind you, one hand on your ass, the other on the bend of your hip, his fingers over the curve of your tummy. He’s so hard against you it’s fucking torture, impossible to imagine how he’s holding out. He moves his hand down from your hip to brush against your clit again and you drop your head, a long, desperate whine coming from deep inside of you as he finally, finally, lets himself in. 

‘Fuck,’ his voice shakes when he’s fully seated, hips to your ass, fingers still pressed against you. ‘Fuck, you feel so good, lover.’

You can’t speak. You know it’ll just be an incoherent sound if you try. It feels like he’s everywhere: inside of you, on top of you, underneath you, on every side of you. It’s overwhelming and so, so good—you never want to stop feeling this, never want to stop being so close to him that you are literally one. 

He’s gentle at first, soft thrusts of his hips, one hand moving up to grasp at your breast as he finds a good pace. It doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm, to hit the spot inside of you that makes you scream, chin pressed against your collarbone as you try not to come on the spot. He picks it up then, hips bruising your ass as he thrusts, his skin burning hot against yours. 

‘Again,’ you tell him, every time he hits that spot inside of you. ‘Again, again, oh my God, please, again.’

And he does as you ask, always. Over and over and over and over. He’s never been loud but you know his tells, can hear the way he sucks in deep, shaking breaths, can hear the way his accent thickens when he tells you he loves you, can hear the curses that fall from somewhere deep inside him, the ‘fucking hell, petal, fucking hell,’ that he can’t keep in. 

He wants you to come first, always. It’s selfless and selfish: he wants to be sure you come, but he wants to be able to collapse once he’s done, fall asleep satisfied and heavy to the bone. He’s a master at it by now, knowing just how to touch, how to move, to finish you off. When he knows you’re close he hauls you up, your back pressed to his chest, and goes harder, his lips against your shoulder, then your neck, then your ear, just for you as he says, ‘come on, lover. Come for me.’

You do, of course. He pinches a nipple and hits just the right spot inside of you and you toss your head back onto his shoulder and you come for the second time, your body vibrating with it. You see stars as you do and you don’t stop, gasping, crying out, feeling like you’re on another planet entirely as he finishes himself off inside of you, just a few quick thrusts before he’s grunting, telling you he loves you, and letting go. 

You stay like that for a moment, both still up on your knees, before Niall pulls out with a hiss and gently lowers you onto the bed. He’s a fucking sight like this: cheeks burning red, chest flushed, hair a mess, sweat all over. The shadow of his abs catches your eye as he reaches over to toss the condom into the bin and you trace them with your thumbs, hands wrapping around his waist. You can’t believe he’s yours. 

‘You should go pee,’ he tells you, un-sexily, but so him. ‘Don’t want ya to get a UTI.’

‘You always have to ruin the mood with that,’ you laugh, stretching out on the bed. You don’t mean it: it’s actually very sexy how much he cares for your health. What’s not sexy is getting out of bed to go pee post-orgasm. 

‘Just don’t want to see you sick,’ he says. He gently touches between your legs, eyes flickering as you whimper. ‘How about a shower together?’

‘Yeah?’ You ask, already warming up at the idea. 

‘Yeah,’ he smiles, leans down for a kiss. ‘Why not?’

As he sat in the near silent waiting room, surrounded by mother's cradling their baby bumps, holding hands with their partners beside them, and chasing after children, he began to wonder how he'd ended up in this place, sat beside Krystal as they awaited her very first OB appointment.

His palms were sweating, which probably had something to do with the fact that with every passing minute this became more and more real. He was going to be a father. In six short months he would have a child; a miniature version of him staring back at him.

It wasn't that Niall didn't want to be a father. He'd always pictured it as part of his future. Chasing a giggly toddler around the living room. Kicking a soccer ball back and forth in the green grass of his backyard. He'd even envisioned himself changing a few smelly diapers. But when he'd imagined it, it had always been with someone he loved beside him. A child created because he loved someone so much that he couldn't wait to bring another person into their life together. He'd never thought he'd become a father in this way- knocking up his fake girlfriend in a one night stand because both of them were lonely.

Niall looked over at Krystal. She was twirling a piece of her long blonde hair around her finger, over and over again, her eyes fixated on the blank beige wall in front of them. She hadn't said a word since Niall had picked her up this morning, well, except for a very soft 'Krystal Hoffman' to the lady at the front desk. Niall knew that for every ounce of fear he had in his body, the number was a thousand-fold in Krystal's. This wasn't what she'd planned either. She was supposed to be getting ready to land her first acting gig, not preparing to have her life changed forever by a child.

He reached his hand out, placing it on top of hers with a reassuring squeeze. Krystal turned her head and gave him the smallest of smiles, but Niall saw right through it. Her eyes revealed that she's just as terrified as she was when she broke the news to Niall almost four weeks ago.

******************

After their "hook-up", Niall chose to act like it never happened, and lucky for him, Krystal chose the same stance. Maybe they'd both realized it was a poor decision, made in a vulnerable, emotional moment. Things returned to normal for a few weeks, they went on their last few PR dates, they maintained their friendship, and Niall still  returned home at night feeling like his life was in shambles. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the end of the contract was in sight. The promo was done, the concerts sold-out, all that remained was one final blockbuster-worthy break-up to get Niall that last ounce of publicity.

But then something changed. One day Krystal was cracking jokes with Niall as they walked down Rodeo Drive hand in hand; three days later she was nearly mute, speaking only when absolutely necessary. She seemed unfocused- like her mind was in an entirely different place than her body. He'd tried probing her, thinking that maybe she'd talk to him about it- the boy that was on her mind or the audition she was stressed about . Instead he was answered with a sharp "It's nothing. I'm fine" and the most forced smile he'd ever seen.

Niall attributed it to the nerves of this all ending. He told himself that Krystal was simply looking into auditions, trying to find her next step after the split from Niall. Niall didn't even consider the idea that there was something bigger eating her up inside. Much bigger.

"We need to talk," Krystal said one evening on a PR sighting out to dinner, her eyes shifting to look out the window.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," Niall laughed. They were talking. That's all they'd been doing at this table where a few paparazzi had come to take some pictures. The media had died down slightly, perhaps because the newness of Niall and Krystal had faded. Perhaps they were on to the next celebrity couple- at least for the time being.

"I think this is a conversation that would be better to have in private." Krystal's voice shook every so slightly as she spoke, and Niall couldn't help but notice that she can't seem to look him in the eyes.

"Okay," he responded cheerfully. His insides, however, churned in anticipation of what Krystal could possibly have to say to him in a private conversation.

His insides continued to churn. While they exited from the restaurant with Krystal's hand intertwined with his. While they drove in near silence back to Niall's house. And now, while Niall sat impatiently on his sofa as he waited for Krystal to speak. 

She was staring at the black and white framed photo of The Eagles positioned on Niall's wall and Niall could have sworn that she hadn't blinked since they'd arrived. He watched as Krystal twirled a piece of her hair inbetween her fingers, her chest rising and falling in deep even breaths as if she's concentrating on her own respirations.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out suddenly, her words leaving her mouth so quickly that Niall's not even sure he heard them correctly.

At first, Krystal's statement didn't even register in Niall's mind. It made sense to him- why Krystal would be acting so anxious, why she seemed like her mind was on something else. And then suddenly, his brain comprehends why she's telling him this. His stomach lurched. It couldn't be.

Niall's mind scoured for any recollection from that night. But there were hardly any pieces to be found. He remembered Krystal showing up at his door, her remembered comforting her, and he remembered laying in bed afterwards feeling like he'd been punched in the gut- but the in between? That was all a bit blurry, like his emotions had blocked it from his mind.

"But," Niall began, as if protesting what Krystal had said would somehow make it less true. "Didn't we use..."

"I don't remember," Krystal spat, as if she'd suddenly gotten her voice back. "But I'm on the pill and I mean I guess sometimes I forget or a miss the alarm but I swear I always take it when I remember and..." Krystal began to ramble.

Niall didn't hear the rest of what she said, her words sounded muffled, like Niall was underwater. He certainly felt like he could be underwater. Like he was drowning- the outside world slowly slipping from his grasp. 

"Fuck," Niall muttered under his breath. He felt his pulse quickening, his head  pounding, and his breathing becoming ragged. He couldn't be in here, in this space with this announcement. He rushed towards the back door, flinging it open with a bang and rushing out onto the green lawn.

"Where are you going?" Krystal shouted but Niall didn't even hear her.

He stood there for a moment, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He felt like he was not even in his own body. Like he's watching a movie of his life- a very bad one at that, where everything that could possibly go wrong for the protagonist does. Niall looked up at the blue Los Angeles sky. He figured that at any moment, the skies would open up in a torrential downpour, to really set the mood. They didn't. Instead, the sun shined back at him and he felt that maybe he should curse at the world for all the bad cards he'd been dealt as of late. But he couldn't do that either, because this -this was all his own doing. It's the wake-up call that Niall  had needed for so long. The shock to his system that finally made him realize that he was on a path to self-destruction. And in that moment he realized that his life was never going to get better if he didn't start taking back control. And that started with facing the consequences of his actions. 

Niall heard Krystal sniffling as he re-entered the house. He watched as she quickly tried to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand, but even that couldn't hide the puffiness that now surrounded them. He instantly felt guilty for running out on her like that. She'd probably been terrified to tell him in the first place, and here he was bolting like a total dick.

Niall didn't say anything at first, sliding onto the couch next to Krystal and wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She laid her head against him as he whispered "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like that."

He half expected her to lash out at him. To yell at him for leaving after she just told him something so serious. To lecture him that his actions were nothing like that of a father, and that he had a long way to go if he wanted a place in this child's life. She didn't.

"It's okay," she responded in a shaky voice that proved that it was far from okay.

There were a million questions racing through Niall's mind, including the looming question of whether or not this was even his baby. He knew it was a possibility, but it was a small one right?   They'd only ever slept together once. 

"It's mine?" Niall asked, "You're sure?" Niall wasn't sure what transpired that night, but he swears he is starting to remember grabbing that foil package from his bedside drawer. He was always careful. Always.

Krystal  quickly nodded. "I've looked at the dates a million times and it... it just adds up that way." Niall could have sworn he heard some hesitation in her voice, but maybe that was his brain trying to hear things that weren't there, searching for a way out of this. Krystal wouldn't lie to him. Not about anything this important. Not about something that would change the course of  both their lives. He suddenly regretted ever asking about the paternity, thinking it likely made him look desperate for a way out. 

"I'm sorry, I debated not even telling you, and I know we have the contract meeting next week and..." Krystal's eyes began to glaze over again. "I just want you to know that I completely understand if you want nothing to do with this. I'll keep quiet about it- even to your management."

Niall looked Krystal in the eyes. He could see the fear filling her hazel irises, and he began to think about just how much strength it had taken Krystal to tell him. The turmoil that had likely been going on inside her head day in and day out . And though every ounce of him wanted to be angry, at himself, at Krystal, at his management for every putting him in this situation in the first place, all he could feel was an ache in his heart for Krystal.

"Krystal, look at me," he said, taking her hands into his.  "I will support you in whatever decision you make. You aren't going to go through this alone."

Krystal nodded, but her eyebrows were still laced with concern. "I'm going to keep it," she murmured softly, as if she was hesitating to vocalize her decision aloud. "Maybe my mom's right and I've made a terrible mistake and I'm ruining my life, but maybe it's a blessing in disguise? " Niall could tell that Krystal was still trying to convince herself of that last part. He wanted to press her about her mother, but he knows know is not the time.

Instead, he wraps his arms around Krystal, hugging her tight. "You're going to be an excellent mother, I just know it."

*****************

Niall and Krystal came to the conclusion that they had to mention their news to Niall's management, especially since their upcoming meeting was supposed to be all about how to break things off. Not to mention the fact that Niall was supposed to be on tour during the time Krystal's online due date calculator indicated the baby would be arriving. Niall found it a bit ironic, for so long he had longed for the day when he would be free to spend time with whoever he chose again, and here he was willingly giving Capitol a reason to continue to dictate his personal life.

Mr. Michaels was perched behind his desk with a sinister grin plastered on his face like always as Niall and Krystal entered his office to discuss the status of the contract. Entering the Capitol Office never got any easier, and Niall wondered what bombshell Mr. Michaels had to drop on Niall's plans this time. Niall wasn't thrilled with the idea of extending the contract, but he wasn't sure what else there was to do at this point. He was trying to do the right thing. And if the right thing meant continuing to fake a relationship with Krystal- that's exactly what he would do.

He took a seat in the chair next to Krystal, rubbing his palms against his grey trousers as Mr. Michaels began to clear his throat. "As you both know, the contract is about to expire. So we need to discuss how we will wrap this relationship up," Mr. Michaels announced.

"Before we discuss that," Niall interrupted hesitantly, noticing that his voice cracked. "We have something to tell you that may...influence how the ending of this is handled."

Mr. Michaels raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I'm pregnant," Krystal blurted out before he had a chance to ask questions.

Mr. Michaels was silent for a moment, and Niall took small satisfaction in knowing that for once he had caught the man off-guard. "I see," Mr. Michaels paused, tapping his pen against the metal surface of his desk. "Well in that case we can certainly extend the contract as needed, although  it's not what we had planned for promotion I can't say that this won't generate its own set of publicity..."

"No," Krystal said suddenly, causing Mr. Michaels to look up abruptly.

"I'm sorry," he asked, giving Krystal a confused glance.

"No, I won't sign another contract," Krystal repeated, her voice firmer this time. "I'm simply notifying you so that you can alter your plans. If Niall wants to be part of this child's life, I want it to be by his choice and on his terms."

Mr. Michaels looked startled, like that was the last thing he expected to leave Krystal's mouth. Niall wondered if he looked shocked too, because he also hadn't even considered the fact that Krystal would refuse signing the contract. 

"You didn't have to do that," he said as they entered the elevator to leave the Capitol building, having come to an agreement with Mr. Michaels that their relationship in the public eye would fizzle out without any outside interference and that Niall's tour dates from mid-February to March would be rescheduled. 

"It was the only thing I could do Niall. I don't want this contract dictating your life anymore, and I certainly don't want you to resent me or this baby because of it."

"Thank you," Niall replied softly, but he knew even those words weren't big enough to express just how grateful he was to finally be out of Capitol's control- or at least partly. 

***********************************

In the time since they'd met with Capitol, there had been many rumors circulating. Rumors that Niall and Krystal had broken up when their sightings together disappeared. Rumors that they were expecting a baby triggered by the suspicious rescheduling of some of Niall's tour dates. Even rumors that the two had broken up because of the baby. 

They weren't together- not in a romantic sense- but Niall had committed himself to being there for Krystal in whatever way possible, especially after learning that her mother had effectively disowned her when she learned she was pregnant. He knew he was doing the right thing- but that didn't make the right thing easy.

He often laid awake at night wondering if this is what his life would become, a platonic co-parenting relationship with his former fake girlfriend. Fearing what this would do to his career. Imagining what this news might do to the person who still had a grasp on his heart, no matter how much time had passed. A part of Niall wondered what would have happened if all those months ago, Capitol hadn't decided he needed a girlfriend to promote his record. Would he be where he was now? Or was his life always meant to be this way?

"Krystal Hoffman," the nurse called out, entering the waiting room with a clipboard in hand and snapping Niall back into reality.  Krystal stood abruptly and Niall noticed her hand shaking as she reached to grab her purse. He reached out, setting a hand on the small of her back and leaning over to whisper in her ear. "We can do this." 

But he's not sure who needed more convincing- Krystal or himself.

“hello?”

you shot up at the sound, the hesitant and all too familiar lilt had reverberated off the walls and blared in your ears. why the hell was he here? how did he know? was it really him? you didn’t know anyone else who was irish who wasn’t a Horan or part of the the Horan family and you seriously doubted Deo was here to see you.

“h-hello?”

and with that his scuffed up new balances carried him over to the front of your bed, his mouth open in shock and you couldn’t dare to look at him, for he must be scanning your face, any chance of you two getting back together leaving his mind.

he really was just drinking you in, taking in how small you looked even though the hospital cot could barely fit another half a person, and how scared you seemed, at his presence or from the injury. but you still looked fascinating. everything about you was intoxicating to him and seeing you after not being able to for a couple of weeks hit him harder than ever before and he was already drunk on the sight of you.

“a-are you okay?” — “why are you here?”

“no i-” — “sorry”

you both huffed and you had to bite back a laugh, wincing at the contractions of your cheeks.

“i- i’m still your emergency contact, love.” niall spoke, so slowly almost as if he’d spook you if he raised his tone any louder.

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the hospital lighting cast an unsightly glow on everything in the room, making it so visible you couldn’t not focus on everything in the room at once, but niall suddenly clouded your every thought. you hadn’t even thought of removing him as your emergency contact. granted you didn’t expect to end up here anytime soon, but still; what else did you have to change now that he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore? now that he wasn’t the first one to call whenever you were in pain?

“i nearly dropped to the floor when i answered the call, they said you were being driven to the hospital and it was all i could do to not run here on foot, had to get Tara to drive me.

“and she nearly made me walk halfway here because I was doing that annoying foot tapping thing all through the drive.” he added on, after seeing your face drop, a minuscule movement, but he noticed everything you did, he knew how much you hated people going out their way for you.

“what happened, darlin?”

and his eyes were so full of concern that you spilt out everything that happened throughout the course of the night: going to the party, how your friend, Ana, made you both leave with two random guys to go and hang out back at their apartment, how their dog actually wasn’t very friendly and does very much bite, and then you ended up here.

he listened intently all the way through, eyes never leaving yours even when you saw his lips taut at the mention of other guys, and cooed in comfort when your voice cracked with emotion as the whole night had been way more overwhelming than you ever thought it would be.

“so yeah all in all it was just a horrible night.”

“sounds like it, pet. are you okay? do you want me to get you anything?”

your heart burst in your chest at the comforting tone of his voice that wrapped around you like a quilt and how he was already bouncing on his toes, ready to run out the door and dote on you. that quilt quickly became barbed wire as you realized the sun would soon come up and the small corner of the universe you two created in the little white room would dissipate and his truth he spewed in the past would remain true.

“no i’m alright ni. niall.” and the silence grew for a mortifying second before you spoke up again, “w-well thank you for coming. i can ask them to change it when they discharge me.”

he looked up at you, confusing crossing his features “change what, dear?”

“the name. your name,” your stare focused on a safe-sex poster residing on the wall behind him, just beside his head, you couldn’t bare to look at him, knowing relief would flood through his eyes that he doesn’t have to mind you anymore. “you don’t have to be my emergency contact anymore. i can change it to Ana.”

“love, i know you’re in the hospital right now and probably in an immense amount of pain, but are you stupid?”

your head snapped up at him and you winced at the speed, the action causing his face to soften as he scooted closer to you. his large hand found itself at the back of your neck, slowly brushing through the hair that resided there.

“i- i want to be your emergency contact. i want to be the first one you call whenever you need help, or you need to tell someone good news, or you want to rant about the annoying characters in your book.”

“i want us to be best friends again. who kiss and hug at the start and end of each day. who’re in love with each other and it’ll be so easy to go back into it because i’m still madly in love with you… and i hope you’re still in love with me and realize that this… this break or whatever we’re on is fucking stupid. and it fucking kills me that i have to tell you this at all, that you doubted my love for you for weeks, and that i’m doing this in a hospital for christs sake but the fact that i wasn’t there to protect you, the fact that this happened because you were at some other guys place… just kills me.”

you could only look at him in silence, the weight of his lengthy confession crushing you. your eyes searched his blue ones for any trace of a lie, as if you would be able to find any dishonesty tangled within the gold flecks dusted in his irises, for being burned by him a second time would pain you much more than any animal attack.

but it wasn’t there. all that was carried in his turquoise sea’s was vulnerability and faith. niall was hanging on a prayer that you would give your relationship a second chance because the adoration he carried for you didn’t deserve to be left to dwindle away because of a stupid argument. but you hadn’t said anything in a while now, so he feared that you really had slipped through his fingers and him and his unrequited devotion would have to regret the harsh words he spat at you weeks ago forever.

“if you don’t feel the same” he let out a large breath and started to make his way to the door, “that’s okay. but at least promise me you’ll leave me as your emergency contact until you find someone better than Ana because she got you in this situation in the first place.”

“niall wait, please stay.” you croaked and he looked up at you once again, the ocean that’s his eyes flooding with tears threatening to spill.

“really?”

“yes. please. i- it’s only been a month and look how i’m doing w-without you! please. all i want is for you to not leave me.”

niall felt his heart splinter in his chest at your croaky words as they took them back to when he lashed out at you. all you wanted was to be near him and it pained him to walk away from you once, to deny you both of your relationship would surely send him to his grave.

he lunged and wrapped his arms around you, large hands gripping tufts of your sweater, clinging on to you in order to ground you both in what had to be a dream. “of course i’m staying, princess. never gonna leave ya angel girl. i’m so sorry.”

the two of you stayed like that until the nurse came back with some medicine and your release papers, his gaze never leaving yours as you filled out the needed information, the rosy blush of your cheeks evident against the harsh red scratches.

——

“If you want… I can go beat up those guys for you. Defend my lady’s honor and all that, hmm?” He asked, smattering kisses down the side of your neck, your giggles causing him to blow a raspberry in order to make more of them come out of you and he was successful.

“i never want to see them again. and i’m going to have to stay away from big dogs for a long while. i’ll probably have to stay away from everyone for a while.” you let out, fingers tracing the marks tainting your skin, a frown etched on your face.

the elevator doors opened as he spun you around to face him in the parking lot “hey none of that! you look fucking badass, baby!”

“really?” you asked with so much insecurity and want in your tone that his heart practically shattered.

“of course you do! look like a sexy spy or something! just fought off a mess of bad guys!”

niall wrapped his arms around your front, your back pressed to his chest as the two of you made your way to his car.

“maybe i can say i was protecting you from some bad guys.” you teased, his gasp making you laugh already.

“oi! we must have been apart longer than i thought petal because you seemed to have forgotten i’m a tank, thank you very much!”