I tried to hold my breath, but there was no air in my lungs. Niall had stolen it and ran off. I lay in the hospital bed, trying to regain my breath. So many thoughts ran through my mind. It felt like my brain was running at a hundred miles an hour. It tossed different ideas and images all around its walls like a whirlwind.
Niall had kissed me. It was spontaneous, just like him. He didn't even seem shocked by his action. He walked out of the Nurse's Office with a grimace. I thought he would be as confused as I was.
I wasn't angry at him, or sad. I felt strange. It was a scary feeling that I hadn't felt before. I tried to think back to my life before the academy. Was I ever in love? I couldn't recall any past love interests. Was I into boys? Could I feel love? Was I ever loved by anyone?
Everyone was beautiful to me, it didn't matter the gender. Everyone was physically appealing as long as they were a good person. Niall was friendly to everyone, he treated them like family. He would take you under his wing and teach you everything that you needed to know. Knowing him guaranteed you a friend for life. He wouldn't betray you, hurt you, or bring you down. He was also strong. He would protect the people that he cares about with his entire body and being. I was hurt by accident. If he were able to prevent my injuries by through himself in front of the blades, he would. He'd spend his entire body weight in blood, to protect someone.
He was beautiful especially because he was so honest. He wasn't brutal or harsh. His words were simply genuine. You could believe every line that slipped from his soft pink lips. His rugged, Irish voice was unable to tell a lie. If he said you were good-looking, or beautiful, or amazing, he meant it from the bottom of his heart.
As I replied our kiss over and over again, I felt my heart rate increase. I feared it would break free from my chest if I didn't keep in under control. I was finally able to breathe again, once I quit thinking of it. I locked it in the back of my mind, trying to keep my present thoughts blank.
Think of something else...I breathed to myself. I closed my eyes and thought of the first thing to pop up. It was Jack's concert last night. I thought of her song, her voice, and how the band played. I wish I could've stayed for it all, but Gabriel had to draw his blade. Her voice was so cute, yet lovely and elegant. It was like a soft pink ribbon, lightly grazing against your ears. It tickled your insides and made you feel amazing. I remembered the way she sang the first few lines of the song. It made me feel light and free. I could've flown and been carried away by the music, if I wasn't holding onto the ground.
I felt like gentle rubble of battling wings in my stomach as I thought of it. It made me smile and chuckle a bit; like someone was tickling me from the inside. It was a fun feeling that I didn't want to let go of. But, the nurse (who I didn't know was there) broke my focus and told me I could leave. I had been excused from my classes for the day on the account of my injuries. She smiled at me with rosy cheeks and sent me away.
I followed the hallway outside of the Nurse's Office to where it would take me. I had the entire day to myself, but nothing to do except wander. A part of me wanted to find Niall and talk, but the reasonable half knew it would've been a bad idea. He and I were both confused. I rather talk when I was rational, rather than impulsive. I wanted answers, not more questions.
I tried to find a way that I wasn't familiar with, but the school was still new to me. It seemed to go on forever, like there were no exits. There were thousands of rooms, dedicated to whatever class you'd want to take. It had four Psychology classes, ever science known to man, social studies, Law and Justice, Fashion Design, Foreign Languages, and more. There was a section of the school for each subject. I found a large map of the building on a wall I had passed by.
The map was as big as the mammoth wall. Thankfully, I didn't had to stare at it too long because I had no destination. If I looked at it any longer, I would've hurt my neck from looking straight up. I guess the size of the school didn't surprise me. It was made to fit all of our needs. They had to have everything to fit everyone's taste.
My legs took me to the west wing of the school, which was the art department, as another map said. I could find Fashion, Music, Art, Photography, and Writing classes there. I wandered onto the balcony, which held the music rooms. I was looking for a vending machine at that point. There was one at the very end of the walkway.
The rooms appeared empty, since no sound came from them. No instructors or students bustling in their seats. I couldn't listen to any singing or instruments, until I reached the end. As I stood in front of the vending machine, purchasing my iced tea, I heard a sad tone coming from Music Room #5. It was the light strumming of an acoustic guitar. It sounded like a sad, indie, alternative song. The chords were sharp and sudden, but it was in minor. Then a girl began to sing, the voice was obviously Jack's. She sang the first line of a song I hadn't heard until then, before missing a string, and stopping. The room fell silent for a moment. Then she let out a deep sigh and cursed under her breath.
Before I even saw her face, I knew she wasn't the same, flamboyant girl I had met the night before. When she opened the music room door, she wasn't about to jump on me, and tell me how cute I was. She appeared tired, sad, and broken. I assumed she was working hard on a song.
Her eyes went from the ground to my eyes. When they met, she jumped back slightly. I startled her.
"How long have you been there?" she snapped in a harsh voice.
"Just a few seconds, I was just getting tea," I answered quickly and defensively, "I'm sorry,"
Her eyes fell back to the floor, as if they were too exhausted to use to energy to look up. She dragged her feet to the vending machine that was only inches away. She took her time to move though. A small sigh fell from her mouth, "Don't be sorry," she finally moaned.
"No, if I bothered you them -”
"Really, don't be sorry," she cut me off, turn her head, and giving me a fake, cheery looking smile, "I'm just a bit drained. I've been working on this song all day and I can't get pass the first few lines without messing up," she twisted open a bottle of water and took a few sips.
She slid her small body down the railing of the guard rail until she was planted on the cold ground. Her eyes met mine, waiting for me to join her. I sat down next to her, drinking my tea. We were both quiet, unable to find a conversation topic for a while.
"You're a really good musician," I blurted out, attempting to spark any kind of conversation I could. She softly smiled at me, this time it was sincere.
"Thanks, but I only sing. I'm not really a musician,"
"Yes you are," I protested, "You're amazing, honestly. I wish I could’ve seen the rest of your show last night. It was...something else," the warm, weightless feeling re-entered my body.
"Thanks again, but really, I'm singing someone else's songs," she admitted with a large amount of disappointment in her tender voice. The way she sang before, with such confidence, it was a shock to hear the song wasn't her own. "I've been working on my songs, but the ones we preform were left here. I guess this school had another band before we assembled. It's kind of creepy to think about. We're playing someone else's music, their instruments. They were just left in this music room, like they were waiting for us.
When I first came here and found the guys, Niall told me he'd start a band with me, since I really wanted to play music. He and I began Between the Skies. He was our original guitarist before Annaliese took him out to fight. I found Chisa soon after. Roy took a liking to her and she joined,"
"Niall was in your band?" I asked stupidly.
"Yeah, he played guitar for a while and sang, but Anna wanted to bring together the battlefront. Niall's an excellent fighter, he's good with people so he can train new comers, and Roy fought with him a lot, so he left. He promised to teach me guitar, but he's been busy with the group. I only know a few things and it's getting harder to teach myself," she explained.
"You two are pretty close, are you? I mean, you guys almost seem like siblings," I said.
"Yeah," Jack smiled to herself, remembrance painted her face, "he was the first person I met here. He greeted me I was a lost child and he was my big brother. He took me in, taught we where to go, how to be independent here. He's the first person I told my story to,"
"Wow, that's really heavy,"
"Do you want to hear it? It's pretty sad, but everyone else knows besides you," she offered. I listened closely, wanting to know her better. Maybe hearing another story would help job my memory.
"I grew up with a house where fighting and screaming was accepted, well, more like encouraged. My father was a drunk; my mom was the 'victim' of her his anger, but she took her's out on her children. My brother was practically a full-time criminal, and me, well, I was quiet. Whenever everyone would fight, I'd lock myself in my room. I'd build model cars, airplanes, and draw pictures of people, monsters, and sceneries, write stories, poems, and songs. I just liked to create things. Engulfing myself in my own world drowned out all of the yelling, breaking objects, slaps, and anger. It really helped.
One day, when my mom was angry because I woke up late for school, she basically threw all of my work out. All of my models, pictures, and notebooks were thrown into the trash and fireplace. I asked her what I did wrong, but I never got an answer. She just needed someone to take everything out on. Since I refused to fight back, I was considered the weakest in the house. If she would've done that to my brother, he would've beaten her too.
No matter how much I tried to connect with her, she wouldn't let me in. It wasn't until I heard her sing one night, that we had a bond. We had this keyboard in the basement. I knew it was her's, but I never saw her play it. One day, I was sick from school, everyone was at work besides her. I heard her singing from the basement and I thought it was beautiful. I sang with her. We developed this bond over music. She taught me how to sing, how to read and write music, and how to be the person I am now. But, her anger, like everyone's there, was out of control. One moment she was nice, the next she was a monster.
She told me all of my work was junk. I'd never amount to anything, right? She would beat that into my head nightly. Finally, she got so mad at me, she just kicked me out. I wasn't allowed to come back home. To eat, I sang on a busy corner. They'd give me a few coins; maybe a dollar if I was lucky. I'd sing every night, even if they didn't want to hear me. I'd sing covers of bands that I liked. It wasn't my music, but it was something.
Every night, a boy would come and listen to me sing. He always carried a guitar, but never gave me any money. It turns out he was in a bad spot too. He wanted to play with me, so one night he pulled out his guitar, sat down, and began playing. We would play together, split the money, and then meet the next time. It was a pattern that we followed for months. I learned his name, he learned mine. He was Robbie, I was Eloise. We were just two stray musicians, trying to find our place in the world. He asked me to join a band with him. They wanted a female vocalist and he said that I was perfect. We both got in. Eventually, I moved in with Robbie. He would write most of the songs, if the other members didn't have anything, and I would sing it. Once again, I wasn't singing my music, but I was happy just to perform. We played at coffee shops, open mic nights at libraries, small bars, and other tiny venues. It wasn't much, but it made me so happy.
Robbie was nice to me and I began to fall for him. I guess, you could say we were dating. Though we lived in a crappy apartment, in a crappy local band, no education, and hardly any money, it was the happiness time of my life. But, my happiness couldn't last forever, of course.
Robbie had the temper of everyone in my house. He had my mother's mood swings, my father’s aggression, and my brother's lack of morals. One moment he was Prince Charming, the next he was this horrible beast. He'd yell at me and hit me for minor things. If I didn't do the dishes, he'd break them over my head. If I didn't set the table, I wasn't allowed to eat dinner.
I made the mistake of 'taking his thunder' during a band practice. I wrote some lyrics and the others wanted to make it a song. When Robbie and I were supposed to be practicing, he was throwing me around the room, calling me a selfish bitch. The last time he beat me was the worst. It was the same reason, the same song. We were in the kitchen, arguing about who should credit for writing it. I was the one who wrote it, it should’ve been me. I was cleaning dishes at the time, so he came from behind me, and slammed my head against the counter," Jack stopped for a moment, touching her forehead with the palm of her head, "I hand blood pouring down my face from this agonizing gash on my head. I can still feel the pain if I think about it. I turned around in disbelief that he'd do such a thing. He'd always leave bruises, but never open wounds. Before I could mutter a word, he struck me with a lamp, or vase, or something hard. All I remember his face. He was just as horrified by his actions as I was. Then the entire world went black and I woke up here," she finished. She paused to take a deep breath and strike a wandering tear off of her cheek. During that pause, I carefully stretched my arm around her shoulder. Jack took this as an invite to fall into my body and bury her face in my chest. “You’re such a good listener, Harry,” she sighed, trying to hide the fact that she really wanted to cry.
“Thanks, but are you okay?” I asked. She completely ignored the question. She didn’t want to break down.
“Maybe if I get this song down and play it, people will finally listen to me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to be heard, to be understood. I just want my voice to matter,” she said hastily, still trying to mask her apparent sadness.
Before I could respond, she picked herself up, and wiped the remaining tears with her sleeve. She gave me a small smile, saying “Thanks”, and then walked back into the music room to practice.
I thought it would’ve been rude to linger around, so I let my feet take me wherever they wanted to go. They took me to front of the school. I stood on top of the stairs by the place I was found. Down the range of steps was a large crowd of NPC’s. They huddled in a circle around something. I couldn’t tell what it was from a far. They weren’t cheering of a fight, or making any action whatsoever. They all stood in a silent circle, observing whatever was going on. As I grew closer, I noticed that they were in a trance-like state. It was so eerily quiet; I could hear the wind rustle in the trees of the forest.
Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud snap. It echoed throughout the open grounds. I began running down the steps, hoping I didn’t trip on my feet.
I cut through the hypnotized crowd of mindless students, only to see Michael Crowley, Zayn, and Ayame. Michael held a long, black, leather whip gripped in his hand. It was raised high in the air, ready to strike Zayn, who stood his ground firmly. His face was covered in lacerations, bruises, and blood. His eye was black and his bottom lip was swollen from the beating. Behind him, crouched, covering her ears, and crying was Ayame. She went from her usual quiet whispers, to ear-splitting cries. Tears ran down her face like rain drops on a statue. Her cheeks were vibrantly red from crying so much.
“Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting him! Please, Michael, stop it!” she passionately chirped in a raspy, drained voice.
“Stand down, Malik! This is her beating!” Michael shouted over the girl’s protest. Zayn didn’t move or say a word. He just stood there with a powerful expression chiseled onto his face; his firsts were firmly clinched at his side. He didn’t even flinch when Michael cracked his whip again, striking his face with a wicked slash. A brilliantly red cut appeared on the bridge of Zayn’s nose. Instantly, it dripped with blood, just like his other wounds.
Michael went for another when my impulse together and I tackled him. I tried to pin him down, but the student body president was too strong me for me. We wrestled for only a short period of time before he had me on his back. I at least managed to get the whip out of his hand, but the might warrior had his fist balled up tight. An evil, crazed look took over his once-smooth face. I caught of glimpse of his wide, angry eyes before I closed my own, preparing for the hit. Zayn tossed the older Crowley off of me before he had the luxury.
Michael hit the cement with a loud thud. I watched as he and Zayn starred each other down for a moment. Zayn intimidated him though, so the president scurried away with his vicious whip. Zayn helped me up and then went to Ayame to comfort her. She was still in a sensitive state, balling her eyes out, and hyperventilating. When Zayn took her into his arms, her tiny, chirps of remorse were muffled, but I was able to hear.
“This is all my fault,” she noiselessly sobbed, “I’m so sorry, Zayn,”
He placed his hand on top of her head and ran it down her long hair. As he pet the back of her head, he rested his own on hers.
“I rather it be me than you,” he humbly stated.
I felt awkward in here, like a third wheel. They were in a sweet embrace, as if they were lovers reuniting, and then there was me. I dusted my jacket and pants of before turning to leave. But, Zayn called to me.
“Harry, where are you going?” he asked suddenly.
“I was just going to walk around,” I said uncertainly.
“Come with us,” he ordered. With one arm around the cheerless Ayame, he began to walk away. I’m not sure why I followed, but I did.
The more I watched them, the cuter they became. I wasn’t sure if they were a couple, but they should’ve been. I paired the two together in my mind, even if they didn’t like it. The way that Ayame stayed so close to Zayn and the way that he protected her was too perfect.
We found a vending machine and decided to sit down to relax. All three of us were still riled up from the incident, so we purchased some beverages to calm us down. I bought my regular tea while Zayn got a soda for Ayame and some water for him. He didn’t drink it, but instead cleaned his wounds by pouring himself a handful and washing his face. Soon he was clean of all the blood and looked relatively normal. His wounds were still prominent, but he didn’t look like he was in a horror scene anymore.
Ayame looked up at her protector with sadden eyes. Whenever she caught the slightest glimpse of his battle wounds, a tear would trail down her face.
“I wish you didn’t do that,” she murmured sorrowfully.
“I’m glad I did,” Zayn replied.
“You don’t have to save me. I hate seeing you…like this,” she tried to snap, but her voice was too weak from crying.
Zayn grabbed the frail girl by her arm and pulled her into another close embrace. It was so sudden that Ayame had dropped her can of pop. It crashed to the ground and spilled over the pavement.
“I couldn’t imagine seeing you beaten up like this,” Zayn heroically whispered.
I felt awkward once again, like a third wheel. I sat in my own bubble, away from the two, sipping my tea. Though my small space at the end of bench was awkward, I sort of enjoyed being with Zayn and Ayame. To be fair, being with them took my mind off the kiss I had earlier. I hadn’t even thought of Niall the entire time I was with them. Although watching them care for each other made me want someone to care for.
My mind then shot to Niall and I felt the longing for a companion to wrap their arms around me. I guess it felt nice to be held. Having someone protect you and care for you, but I didn’t have that.
I look down at the cold can in my grasp. I ran my thumb the wet metallic sides of the cylinder. I wanted for them to notice that I was there and how my awkward bubble was about to burst. Ayame realized it before Zayn; he was so entranced by her that he forgot I was there.
Ayame pulled away from his chest and looked at me with wide eyes, as if she were surprised that I stayed so long. She dried her leaky eyes with her sleeve again and sniffled a bit.
“Can we look at the flowers?” she asked bashfully. Zayn nodded and we all left. I didn’t understand what she meant by “look at the flowers”. I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but I followed them.
We walked for only a few minutes before we turned down a narrow, cobblestone path that veered from the sidewalk. Once her feet touched the path, Ayame began to skip towards two tall hedges that worked like an entry way. She skipped far ahead of us, so I walk beside Zayn while I had the chance.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“The school garden,” he answered returning his cool, rough voice to talk to me, “Ayame helps with the gardening club. She just loves the flowers, for some reason. They make her happy,”
We both watched as she ran to all of the colorful petals, touching them delicately with her fingertips, pressing her nose against them, and smiling brightly as she did. She ran to a bushel of Morning Glories and began to pick them. She placed then in the palm of her hand and then presented them to Zayn.
“For me?” he asked, accepting the purple blossoms. Ayame shook her head slightly when he went to take them.
A mischievous smile appeared on her pale face. She popped up on the tips of her toes and pushed the flowers into Zayn’s dark brown hair. He didn’t object to this, but instead smiled and allowed her to continue. Soon his hair was covered in small purple Morning Glories. Ayame giggled and then skipped off to look at other colorful plants. I began to giggle at Zayn as well, but as soon as a small laugh exited my lips, he shot me an evil look. My throat became clogged with fear and I quit laughing.
We reached the end of the garden, finally. I didn’t care for all of the flowers and plants, though they were beautiful; they weren’t enough to distract me from my thoughts.
Zayn said that it was his turn to go somewhere, so he led us to the baseball diamond. It was sort of amazing to watch him bat. He set up the pitching machine so it would throw as fast as it could. He hit every single one with impeccable accuracy; every hit with a home run.
Ayame and I sat in the dugout and watched as he batted. Whenever the wood bat would collide with the bullet-like balls, she would clap and cheer for him.
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” I chimed once she sat back down from cheering. She looked at with me with her class wide eyes, like she was startled.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just get excited whenever he plays,” she replied bashfully.
“Well, he is rather good,” I commented, watching as Zayn knocked more balls out of the diamond.
“He’s amazing,” Ayame cutely chirped with a smile.
“I forgot ask, before; what happened with Michael?” I suddenly asked. Her smile dropped and she sighed. She looked down at her tiny hands, letting her hair fall over her face.
“I was caught skipping class. When Michael caught me, he pushed me to the ground and gathered a bunch of the students. He began yelling, saying that I was a filthy rebel and had to be punished for breaking the rules all the time. When he went to hit me, Zayn appeared, like a superhero,” her voice gradually got happier and louder, “He protected me from every blow that Michael tried to throw at him. He never flinched or made a sound. He just stood in front of me and protected me. He always does that. Zayn is my superhero,” she explained with a blissful look on her face. Her white cheeks flushed a scarlet red color.
“You’re blushing, Ayame,” I pointed out with a giggle. She quickly covered her cheek with her small hands, “I’ve never seen you this happy before,”
“Really? I guess Zayn just makes me happy,” she muttered, removing her hands, “Have you heard his story yet?”
“No, I haven’t really had the chance to talk to him. He’s sort of reclusive,”
“Yeah, you have to ask him, but he wouldn’t mind me telling you. Do you want to hear it?”
After hearing Ayame’s and Jack’s, I feared of how sad Zayn’s would be. He was a strong boy, what could have sent him to a place like this?
I nodded. Ayame took a deep breath and began to story.
“He grew up with his father after his mom passed away from cancer. His dad worked twelve hours days regularly and took whatever overtime he could get, so he was usually home alone a lot. When he reached high school, he decided to fill his time with sports. He played baseball as a kid, so he decided to try out for the school’s baseball team. Naturally, he got in. The kids at school took a liking to him because of his ‘bad-boy’ image that he portrayed so well. He became popular after a game where he hit seven homeruns. It must have been amazing. The popularity was hard though, he was always invited to parties. At the parties, they had the usual things that you’d expect; drugs, alcohol, and everything else. These became regular thing, so almost every night he was doing all sorts of drugs and drinking. It ruined his talent, but he was addicted to lifestyle and pleasing everyone.
He was driving one night after a party. He ended up hitting another car. The accident was horrendous. No body survived it; Zayn, the mother in the other car, or the child in the backseat. Even now, Zayn holds the guilt of killing them, as well as himself. I don’t understand though, he’s such a good person,” she finished the story with wet eyes and a quivering voice. For the rest of the time we were there, Ayame was silent.
We departed soon after I heard Zayn’s story, but when I was heading back to my room, I found Zayn leaning up against my door again. As I approached him, I sighed. I was tired and needed to sleep.
“Hey Zayn,” I greeted him, attempting to sound chipper.
“Did she tell you? Ayame I mean,” he quickly shot at me.
“Yeah, I’m sorry if you didn’t want me to know about it,”
“Do you know why I’m always so nice to Ayame? Why I protect her, even though I know she can hold her own?” I was silent, waiting for his answer, “For the girl I killed. Ayame reminds me of her. She’s innocent. The simplest things can make her smile, though she hardly shows it. For some reason, she likes me and accepts me though I’m such a terrible human being. I can’t give that girl back her life, but maybe I can give Ayame a decent afterlife,” without another word, Zayn went off. He left me stunned and confused.
“You’re not a bad person,” I said, but he was far down the hallway by the time I mustered those words.
I twisted my doorknob and entered my room. Through the window, I saw the deep orange sun attempting to hide under the horizon. Though there was still a ray of daylight peeking through the pink sky, I was drained of energy.
I sat on my bed and began taking off my shoes and jacket. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. It startled me at first; it was so quiet in my room that the noise caught be by surprise. Then I thought of who it could be and my heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t thought of bringing myself to face him yet, but I couldn’t just ignore him. It didn’t cross my mind that I would have to face him so soon.
Thought I didn’t want to, my legs dragged my unwilling body to the door. I twisted the knob again, slowly pulling.
Nothing could prepare me to see the shaggy-looking, blonde haired boy standing in front of my bedroom door. He wasn’t wearing his goofy smile. He didn’t brighten the dimming sky with his spontaneous joy and hyperactive personality. He appeared to me, saddened and drained. His eyes looked sunken in and tired.
“Niall,” I breathed automatically. His face grew longer when I said his name.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” he spoke in a melancholy tone.
“No, no, don’t apologized,” my face instantly flushed as I remembered why he was apologizing.
“I have to. I didn’t mean to…do what I did, it’s just…I feel weird around you. I probably shouldn’t, seeing as you’re still so new and I must seem like a stranger, but I feel close to you. In the group, everyone ‘s close to me, but there aren’t many people that I can relate to,” he sighed, exhaling all of his emotions, “You have no idea who are and honestly, I have no idea who I am either. I’ve been here so long and my memory is still fuzzy. I have bits and pieces there, I know I had a family who loved me, but the details are still blurred. The faces of people I knew my entire life has been smeared. Everyone else knows who they are, where they came from, and what happened to them. Even Liam knows his past. You and I don’t, so I guess I just…I don’t know,” he looked at the floor line between the hallway floor and my bedroom.
The amount of mixed emotions I was feeling were unimaginable and indescribable. It was like I was feeling an unstoppable hurricane of everything I’ve ever felt at once. The only thing I could detect was the increasing amount of confusion as I tried to settle my own emotions.
Niall took a quick glance at me, trying to find some hint of my reaction, but I didn’t give on. He went to turn away, but when he did I impulsively grabbed his arm and brought him closer to me. I wrapped my arms around him, clinching onto the back of his jacket, and holding him close. The pulse of both of our hearts beat at a heavy, fast paced rhythm. They were enough to rattle my entire body. The strength of our rumbling hearts made my knees weak and my body heavy. I didn’t think I’d be able to hold myself up if I didn’t use his body as a crutch.
“Harry, why are you..?” he began to ask.
“I’ve been hanging out with Zayn and Ayame all day and I keep seeing them do this. It’s supposed to make you feel better,” I quickly cut him off, hoping it answer.
I heard him chuckle as he rested his head on top of mine. We just stood there in doorway, holding each other, until my impulse took over once again. I pulled Niall into my room with my shaking arms and shut the door behind us.