Chapter Text
Niall sat on the edge of his bed. Looking up at his two slightly raised arms.
He could still feel his fingers, his grasp and the muscles of his hands, or the blood rushing to his fingertips. They were perfect, functioning and still looked the same as long as he remembered.
But, why?
Why did he get so weird, so scared when he looked at his own pale sleeves? As if they were not real, only shadows and images.
Or his body and every breath is also not real. Like he was hanging in the air, like he wasn't there.
Like his distraught, stuck to himself in his dark room. Awakened at 3:45 in the morning with a thundering in his chest, his heart pounding hard as the blood flowed through his entire body. Brings Niall to the feeling of goose bumps, shivers, until he realizes he's sweating.
He just woke up from a nightmare.
He dreamed, he drowned. Somehow, when he realized he was in the water, the icy water was bitterly cold. Froze the blood and every layer of his skin, bringing pain into his bones. It burns the eyes and makes his chest extremely tight.
He can't breathe, can't breathe.
He just kept dragging down into the icy water, his body so heavy that he could not move, his hands lifted, trying to reach for the water, struggling to make it to the surface.
But the current carried him deeper and deeper until he could no longer see daylight.
And he was still breathless, until his chest was not strong, and then the cool water poured down his nose, down his throat and down his lungs.
It really hurts. He remembered how cramped and painful it was when he tried in the water, until slowly the darkness swallowed him up, and he literally sank to the bottom.
In that moment, Niall awoke. Asphyxiating, trying to breathe as much air as he can. It was the sound of his voice and his breath that made Niall realize that he was just having a bad dream.
A few minutes later, he was finally calmer. Niall turned on the nightstand, and saw the clock that was now too early in the morning.
He then lowered his feet to the floor, intending to go to the bathroom to wash his face and try to calm down.
But he was still shaking enough, so he stayed there for a while. His head started to hurt, again.
Niall rubbed his eyes, frustrated. Then let out a deep breath. His hands were placed on top of his knees, and then he began to look at them, moving his palms and fingers together. Feel them function normally.
That is so weird. He feels weird even to feel his own body, like he's just a part of the nightmare right now, or is he really still left in his nightmares?
Why does he feel like this?
Niall was frustrated. When did it start? He couldn't remember the first time, he had such nightmares. Maybe since a few weeks ago, or even a month. He forgot.
Some were very disturbing, and some very frightening like earlier, he swore he could never have a deep night or sleep without waking up from those nightmares.
And it's really exhausting. Tonight, it's just as exhausting. In fact, he and the lads are scheduled for a couple of interviews this afternoon.
Niall again sighed, and at last stood, he walked into the bathroom to wash with fresh water.
Niall turns the tap and lets the water wash his hands, then begins to wash his face. It feels so much better.
He turned off the tap, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked pale, with black eyes under his eyes.
Look at him, so ugly and pathetic. Somehow, Niall felt okay with it.
He even agreed to it, he did look bad, with too pale skin and a fat body. He was not attractive at all, the ugliest and different among the boys.
Niall doesn't even like his own shadow, he doesn't want to see his figure much longer. He then came out of the bathroom, and immediately went back to bed.
His head had still been beating since he woke up, the nightmare might have startled him to the point of giving him a headache.
Niall believes he may not be able to sleep again soon. So, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand. And it started to slide on twitter.
His fingers are searching a post that tagged him. There was a lot, mostly about him and the boys.
But what attracts Niall more is the bad tweets from the fans for him.
He found some, Like ...
'All of you agree right, that Niall doesn't belong together in One Direction? He can't even sing.'
That one can be pretty much like and replies. They all agree with her.
'Yes, he should.'
'Right, I never liked him from the start. He's fat, and not attractive at all, look at his fake blonde hair? He bleached his hair and still did not change his appearance.'
'Yeah, I thought so, too, his voice wasn't as good as the others. I still wonder why he stayed.'
Niall read every word, feeling empty. He didn't understand why he was still searching and curious about the tweets. And even stranger, though he knew he should be in pain from what they said, he felt nothing, even more.
Maybe because he's used to this, he's been doing it for god knows how long.
One day, after a concert with the boys, they had five breaks and Niall started looking through social media.
At first, the whole bad post was perfectly hidden, so little and just a fraction of a few others. The good tweet of the other one, it blinds Niall from the bad that could hurt him.
Until, quite by accident, one post just appeared in front of his cell phone screen, caught his eye and concentrated right there. Just one, a coin that narrows it down between the others. And just a sentence.
'Niall is so fat, he should be ashamed of himself.'
That one sentence, like a glue immediately glued to his brain. Brings Niall's mind to a lot of other questions. Confused him.
What was his fault? Why should he be ashamed?
After reading the tweets, Niall stopped and zoned out for almost a minute. Later, he became curious and wondered if he could find the other tweets. He wanted to know how many people did it, how much they hated him and didn't want him to be among the boys, in One Direction.
He's worked up his curiosity. But he seems to have learned too much already. He had dug too deep, down to the part that had managed to hurt him, by then.
After that shocking afternoon, Niall was instantly withdrawn. The rest of the night he spends on pensive mounts and forces his brain to question, about what people think of him. About how bad he is.
In fact, he didn't have much to say at dinner that day, and immediately entered his room as soon as they finished. He said he was tired, he wanted to sleep early and he should have done that.
But, again that night he was again seduced by how people viewed him.
Niall went deeper on Twitter and social media, looking for more bad posts tagging him, eventually staying up all night because of it. And so it went on that Niall's nights changed.
From then on, Niall adopted the same routine as his bedtime routine, a ritual he had to complete or he would not be able to sleep peacefully.
To a point where he got used to it and became addicted. Circumstances that could no longer harm him.
When he started thinking about it as honesty. And whatever he's reading is true, what they're saying, it's all true.
He is fat.
He is ugly.
He can't sing.
He's so pathetic.
He should be ashamed.
At that point, even now when he was shifting in his phone, Niall felt satisfied.
Because it's all true. And he's starting to accept it, as a fact. And each of those facts, is embedded in his head as a reminder.
And maybe they triggered the nightmares he was having every night. That made it hard for him to sleep, and exhausted.
Niall knew, but he couldn't stop.
He knew people had broken him to pieces every day, and he knew he shouldn't care or he should talk to the boys about it.
How this all started to bother him, and how he had to keep himself from being hurt any more.
But once he started, Niall couldn't stop. He lost control, for so long that he became immune and took it all in.
He started to feel afraid or even disgusted at himself in the mirror, or when he had to hear his voice singing on the stage.
His fake hair, his too pale skin, his fat body, the shortest among others. How bad he feels.
Niall felt he was getting upset and blamed himself again. And that feeling made his headaches even worse.
He decided to call it a day and get rid of his phone back at the nightstand.
Niall squeaks, turns off the light and starts wrapping himself into a blanket.
His head still hurts, and he needs to sleep through it. Anyway, he's got a pretty full schedule tomorrow.
He must sleep, to maintain his stamina and performance tomorrow. He didn't want to add more black under his eyes, or look listless from lack of sleep.Or he might get a little ugly and fat, that's enough room for all that.
Niall closed his eyes and tried to focus on sleep. He's very lazy, though, to go to the interview tomorrow. Or out of the house. He didn't want to be seen or around the crowd, the spotlight anymore.
He just wants to be left alone.
Niall, once again took a short breath, but at the same time unleashed all his rage.
They're right, they've succeeded, and they've won.
He also really hates himself.