Welcome!
In the last few months I was thinking and I started missing those old, One Direction fanfiction days and I had this idea what if I try to bringing it back? We all deserve some kind of happiness after everything had happened in this fandom in the last few years, especially since last october until now.
Since I always wrote about Niall, I decided not to break this circle now as well, so this will be a story about Niall in the One Direction era. The story will be placed in 2013, which means frat boys era! I mean... those were the days, isn't?🤭 Oh yeah, and I will try to continue those cliché storylines, too. Haha.
I am apologize for any mistakes that I will make in this story. English isn't my first language but I will try my best and if there's any mistakes, just let me know! Also thank you so so much if you decide to joining on this ride with me/us!💕
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At first, the tiny, icy drops only tapped against the asphalt in warning — then they fell harder, heavier, until every other sound was swallowed by their rhythm.
It was the last night of summer, but the air already carried the promise of autumn — the whisper of things ending.
My floral dress clung to my skin, my hair stuck to my face, but I didn't move. I just stood there, watching him standing in the rain, soaked, stubbornly beautiful. He looked exactly the way he always had — just like the first time I saw him. Only now... he wasn't smiling.
The rain washed away everything I loved about him — that lazy, half-smile, the spark in his eyes. All that remained was silence, and that strange kind of emptiness that made my chest tighten.
Raindrops ran down his face, and I couldn't tell if it was the rain — or something else. A flash of lightning lit his eyes for a heartbeat — and in that moment, I knew it was over. Not because we said it. But because there was nothing left to say.
The air smelled of wet earth mixed with his cologne. It felt like the whole world was pressing down on me, and every beat of my heart whispered the same truth: there's no such thing as us anymore.
"Won't you say anything?" I finally asked, quietly, though my voice was barely audible over the steady hum of the rain.
For a while, he only stared at his shoes — those old, soaked Vans I'd tried to convince him to throw out a thousand times. Somehow even that felt heartbreakingly familiar, as if every little thing about him carried the weight of our story.
"I hope I was at least good enough to help you forget," he said at last, his tone flat, detached — like he was talking about the weather.
For a moment, even the air froze between us. Then I laughed — a sharp, empty sound, like shattered glass.
"Excuse me?" I said, my voice cracking like an old record.
"Oh, come on, Samantha." He looked up, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes I'd never seen before — contempt. "We both know what I was to you these past few months."
His words hit me like a slap. My stomach twisted, the world spun. Everything I'd been holding back broke loose at once.
"After everything we've been through... how dare you?!" I shouted, my throat tight with the ache of unshed tears. "Do you really know me so little?"
I stepped closer — close enough to feel the heat of his body through his wet clothes. My hand moved on its own — maybe I wanted to slap him, maybe I just wanted to feel something, anything that was still real.
But he caught my wrist.
His grip wasn't harsh, only firm. His gaze was cold, but somewhere deep in it I saw the same pain I felt inside.
"Is there someone else?" he asked finally, his voice low but dangerous. Those piercing ocean-blue eyes searched me, as if he could dig the answer straight out of my soul.
I couldn't speak. The words got stuck in my throat. I just tried to pull my arm free — but he wouldn't let go.
"I asked if there's someone else," he repeated, harder this time. There was a kind of desperation in his voice that made my stomach twist.
His grip tightened, and I knew there'd be a mark there tomorrow.
I winced.
"Let me go... please," I whispered, but he didn't seem to hear me.
For a long second, we just stared at each other. Then something shifted in him — like something fragile had finally broken. His shoulders slumped, his eyes softened. At last, he let me go.
My wrist throbbed, but that wasn't what hurt the most. It was the way he looked at me — like everything that had happened between us had meant nothing.
"I need to know, Samantha," he burst out suddenly. "I need to know that what we had wasn't just in my head. That it meant something. That you meant it."
"What difference would it make?" I asked, and even to me, my voice sounded strange, hollow.
He didn't answer. Just looked at me, chest rising fast, the storm raging behind his eyes.
"Everything," he breathed.
Before I could even react, he yanked me toward him, and then his lips were on mine.
For a second, I froze. My mind screamed no, my body went rigid. The rain was cold, he was burning — the contrast made me dizzy.
My brain shouted to stop, to pull away — but when I looked into his eyes for that brief moment we parted, something inside me shattered. He looked like a man begging to remember one last time.
And I kissed him back.
Time dissolved. The world fell silent. There was nothing but the pounding of the rain and the ache between us — fierce, consuming, and impossibly alive.
But I knew I couldn't stay. This wasn't love anymore — just a desperate attempt to hold on to what was already gone.
Slowly, I pulled away. Something in his eyes broke, but I couldn't bear to meet his gaze.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, barely audible.
Then I turned and walked away.
My shoes squelched with every step, my dress clung heavy to my skin, and my heart felt even heavier.
Every part of me screamed not to look back — not to go back to him.
But as the rain drowned out the sound of my footsteps, one single thought echoed in my mind, over and over again:
If I stay, I'll break him — but if I leave, I'll never be the same again.
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