#(and to his late darling frannie who also gets a happy mother’s day even though she never got the chance to raise her baby boy)

[unfortunate-arrow]

Rory Patrick O’Neill

May 8, 1894 | Gryffindor | Muggleborn | Ballycastle Bats Seeker | Widower | Father

[booksncoffee]

i’ve found a real love - part two

the one with the questions

“Hello?” Francine sucks in a breath. Niall’s voice washes over her like a sip of her favourite coffee down her throat. She considers ending the call immediately and goes back downstairs where she can pretend that she’s not wondering why the person she loved didn't love her back.

“Hi,” she finally speaks.

It’s silent and then, “Frannie?”

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The next morning, Francine wakes up before the sun rises, thrilled to make the drive back to her hometown and celebrate Christmas with her family. She’s prepared a playlist – filled with Christmas songs – which she plans on listening to the entire time she drives and she’s also prepared a cup of coffee. Both the playlist and the coffee have the same purpose: to keep her awake.

She’s buzzing with excitement, moving around her one-bedroom flat as she makes sure that she has everything – especially the gifts she spent months searching – loaded in her backpack. She can’t afford leaving one of the presents behind like she did last year and having to hear Tommy whine about how she didn't love him or how forgettable he is – that’s far from the truth. He might be only a couple of years younger than her, but he acts like he’s ten sometimes.

This year, Francine is convinced that she’s prepared. She began packing five nights ago, intent on not leaving anything behind. Sophia thought she’s gone mad but then again, Sophia is great at last minute packing, which is something Francine can’t relate.

When Francine hears a knock on the door, the first thought that pops into her head is: Sophia must have left something when she hastily left last night because she remembered that she hasn't packed her things. So much for last minute packing.

“I told you-“ Francine’s breath is knocked out of her lungs when she opens the door and realises that it’s not Sophia standing on the other side of the door. It’s Niall. “Niall?”

He offers her a small smile. “Hi,” he says as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his black coat. His eyes scan her outfit, then, and he takes a few steps back. “You’re leaving already?”

Francine’s hand lingers on the knob. Right now, she has two options: tell him the truth, which is that she has about fifteen minutes to spare before she has to leave and then invite him inside because he looks like he can use a cup of coffee or tea or tell him a lie, tell him that she’s leaving now and close the door for the dramatic effect.

“I-Uh, yeah,” she goes for the second option after seconds of deliberation. She should close the door now but she finds herself watching him as he debates his next move.

“Oh,” Niall nods and takes another step back. He runs his fingers through his dishevelled hair, his eyes darting from the stairs to Francine. “I’ll, uh, see you later then.”

���Okay,” Francine replies, relieved that he’s decided to leave. Maybe he isn’t as persistent as he was a year ago. But she speaks too soon because as soon as that thought crosses her mind, he stays planted in front of her and it seems like he has no intentions on leaving.

Niall licks his lips, rubs the back of his neck and finally, “I just… ‘m sorry, but I can’t leave until I get this off my chest.”

Francine’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest because she has a pretty good idea what he wants to talk about and she’s not ready to open up about it. 365 days sounds like a long time and yet she still finds herself unprepared when it comes to Niall Horan. “I really have to go-“

“What did you mean when you said I’m not a saint either?” He asks suddenly, cutting her off midsentence. There’s an edge to his voice, a little beg to it that gets caught in his throat. He’s never sounded like this before and that pulls on her heartstrings. “I mean, I know ‘m not a good person, but what’d you mean, Frannie?”

His statement holds no truth at all – Niall is a good person. In fact, he’s the best person she’s ever met. But since Francine is still consumed with her anger towards him, her judgment of him is clouded. She purses her lips together, bows her head and silently agrees with him.  

“Frannie, why’re you avoiding me?” Niall asks another question that Francine can’t possibly answer. She has an answer, but she can’t bring herself to voice it out. Even after what he did to her last year, she still can’t hurt him despite how much she wants to.  

Francine shrugs. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Niall lets out a mechanical laugh, making her wince. “You do know that I know you, right?”

Something that Francine used to love about him has become something that she hates about him: his good memory. He remembers anything and everything, down to the tiniest details about a person. And just when she thought he’s forgotten all about her, he reminds her of the otherwise.

“Frannie,” Niall tries again, his voice softer this time.

This is her chance to come forward, Francine thinks, to confront him about what happened last Christmas and to get a closure. Is that what she really wants – a closure? She’s not sure of that, but what she is sure of is that she wants this conversation to end right now because when she looks at Niall, she still sees everything that she loved in his eyes.

So, she changes her mind about confronting him, falling deeper into her comfort zone where she avoids confrontation like her life depends on it.

“I-I can’t talk about it right now,” she answers as she tucks her hair behind her ear. That’s not a lie, so that’s something. A confused look is written all over Niall’s face so she adds, “Now’s not the right time.”

Francine knows he has something else to say, but he clamps his mouth shut and takes a step back. “You’ve changed your numbers, yeah?”

Francine nods, not at all regretting the impulsive decision she made a year ago because she likes that her phone is free of Evan and Niall. The only regret she has right now is that she didn't take the plunge and move to another flat. That way Niall wouldn't show up unannounced like this. But had she move she’s certain she wouldn't be able to afford anything else. Her landlord is kind enough to not raise the rent.

“Well, I still use the old one so text me or ring me when you’re ready,” he says as he kicks at imaginary rocks.

“Okay.”

“Take care, Frannie,” he shoots her a smile, one that she finds herself reciprocating. Warmth spreads across her chest when she sees the familiar glint in his eyes. “Oh and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

Francine watches as he pushes his hands into his coat’s pockets and makes the short walk to the stairs. Usually she’d watch him walk down the stairs, but she pushes that habit away and gets inside, closing the door behind. She looks at the time on her wristwatch, realising that she might be at least thirty minutes late.

She sends a text message to Tommy, telling him to wait for her before they begin their Christmas morning. Tommy, of course, tells her that they’re not going to wait for her. But with a reassurance from her father – ‘we’re not going to start without you, darling. Don’t listen to Tommy. And please drive carefully.’ – who calls her a few seconds later as if he knows exactly what’s going on, she quickly gets into her car and begins the drive.

Francine tries not to think about her encounter with Niall earlier, but it proves to be pointless because even though she’s drumming her fingers and nodding her head to the Christmas tunes, her mind keeps on replaying the scene. As if that’s not enough, her brain replays the encounter at Sainsbury’s and Liam’s party as well. They were both brief and yet they stick to her.

+++

As soon as her car is parked behind her father’s, Francine takes her backpack out of the boot of her car and makes the walk to the front door. She doesn't have to knock on it because the door swings open before she has the chance to do so, revealing her father who has a huge smile on his face. He greets her with a hug, his warm embrace melting away all of her worries.

Each time she sees him, he looks slightly older than before and as much as she refuses to think about it, she knows his age is catching up on him. So she tightens her arms around him and wishes that she doesn't have to let go.

Her dad squeezes her arms and asks, “You’re alright, darling?”

She nods, but her answer doesn't seem to satisfy her father who then holds her at an arm’s length so he can scan her face. She offers him a smile, a rather weak one, and quickly shakes her head when she sees him opening his mouth to say something. “I’m good, dad. Just happy to be home.”

He squints his eyes at her, something that he does a lot when he tries to get something out of his daughter. “Are you sure that’s all?”

But Francine knows better than to crumble so easily. “Yes, that’s all.”

“Is that who I think it is?” Francine hears his voice first before she sees him and when he does appear in her line of sight, she rolls her eyes and pretends as though she’s not happy to see him. “My lovely sister whom I hope didn't forget my present.”

Francine rolls her eyes again. She does that a lot when she’s around Tommy, who now that she’s thought of it is just as dramatic as their mother.

“Well, did you forget it?” He asks again as he stands next to their father.

“Can you at least let me in first?”

“No can do,” Tommy shakes his head as he squares up his shoulders and blocks the door. Their father simply shakes his head and turns around to leave the two of them alone, knowing that it’s best if he doesn't get involved. Wise man, he is. “New rule: only come in if you have everyone’s presents in that ugly backpack of yours.”

Francine punches his arm, offended that he would insult her backpack and her memory. She admits that she does forget things easily but she swears Tommy will never let go of the one time she forgot something. God forbids he’d do that. “I have them, you arse. Now let me in.”

Tommy grins and steps aside to let his sister in, who then pulls him into her arms. He squirms and groans, acting as though he hates hugs. He doesn't because no one does.

“Stop acting like you hate my hug,” Francine tells him, to which he responds with an even louder groan. She might not be able to see his face right now, but she can tell that he’s rolling his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile on the edges of his mouth. She knows his brother too well. “Won’t let go till you hug me back, Tommy.”

At that, he squeezes her as hard as he can, knocking the breath out of her lungs. “That enough for you, Frenchy?”

“Mhmm,” she replies, unwrapping her arms around him and ruffling his hair before making a run to the living room where their father is waiting with a cup of hot chocolate in hand and their mother has just emerged from the kitchen with a plate of warm cookies. She always bakes it, always makes sure that their house never runs out of cookies – that’s one of the many things Francine loves about being home.

Before Francine can steal one cookie from the plate, her mother pulls her into a hug and smothers her with kisses. Francine realises that her mother does that whenever she doesn't come home for over two months – she thinks it’s because although her mother doesn't admit it, she misses having her at home as much as her father misses her daily. The only difference between her parents is that her father is more vocal about him missing her unlike her mother.  

There are times when Francine wishes she could move back home, but if she does that she’ll have to endure a one-hour drive to go to work. Sure she can save her money because she wouldn't have to think about the rent, the bills and the money she spends on food, but she doesn't think that’s practical nor does she think she has the patience to commute from her parents’ home to her workplace.

“How was the drive?” Her mum asks once they’ve pulled away from the hug. She takes a seat next to her husband whilst Francine plops herself down on the other couch next to Tommy. “You didn't hit anything, I suppose? Or wreck the bumper?”

Francine rolls her eyes. Although she has been behind the wheels since she’s 17, her mother still finds it hard to believe that she’s capable of driving and that’s only because she did a little damage on the bumper twice when she was still new at driving.

The first time it happened it was when she’s trying to get her car out of the parking spot. She wasn't paying attention to her surrounding including the car parked behind her. Good thing she’s quick to hit the brake, but still there’s a little scratch on her car. The second time happened when she was trying to parallel park – she hates parallel parking with every fibre of her being – and because her car proximity sensor didn't work, she didn't realise that her car was dangerously close to the lamp post. This time around, she didn't manage to hit brake quickly and that resulted in a dent on her car’s bumper.

For what it’s worth, those two incidents taught her to be a better and more careful driver. Once she’s sure she wouldn't make those mistakes again which was merely one and a half years ago, she bought a new car.

“No, Ma, I didn't hit anything or anyone,” Francine replies, to which her mother responds with a pointed look. If she doesn't know her mother well, the lack of faith she has on her would’ve offended her. As it is, Francine knows her mother so with confidence, she adds, “If you don’t believe me, you can check my car.”

Francine can see that her mother is about to get up and check on her car, but before she can do that, her father steps in with a clap of his hands. “Time to open the presents, don’t you think?”

+++

It’s a little after 2pm that Francine finally makes her way up to her childhood bedroom. Her stomach is full, her eyes are heavy and the only thing she can think of is how badly she wants to take a nap. She didn't get enough sleep last night so she’d appreciate it if she could get a couple hours of sleep before everyone comes over for dinner tonight.

But when Francine’s head hits the pillow, sleep is the last thing on her mind. She decides to check on her phone and notices that she’s received several text messages from Bree and Sophia, both coming from the group chat they set up years ago.

Francine scrolls through the text messages and the pictures attached to those texts. A smile touches her lips when she comes across a picture of Sophia with her dog, Hunter – Francine has never met Hunter because she lives with Sophia’s parents, but with the excessive amount of Hunter’s pictures saved in her photo gallery, one would think Francine lives with the dog.

Merry Christmas, you guys! Especially to Hunter

A few seconds later Francine sees Sophia typing a reply: How’s your xmas morning, fran? What did you get??

Interesting. Mum got me a new coffee maker & dad paid for my rent for the rest of next year

Francine receives replies from both Bree and Sophia at the same time. Whereas Bree sends a ‘WHAT?’, Sophia responds with multiple shocked emojis and a ‘LUCKY’.

Francine proceeds to asking them what they got for Christmas and after they have filled her in on their morning, she feels the need to tell them what happened before she left home. Maybe talking about it via text messages isn’t the best choice she has at the moment, but she needs their opinions on what to do next.  

something happened this morning…

Bree’s the first one to reply: spill!

A reply from Sophia comes in a couple of seconds later: ?????

Francine tells her friends that Niall came over to her house earlier this morning and that he asked her questions that she couldn't possibly answer – at least not when they were asked out of nowhere. Once her friends have calmed down and have stopped lecturing her for keeping this from them – it’s only for a few hours and yet they find it absurd how she didn't straightaway tell them about it – Francine finally asks them the question she’s wanted to ask.

So what should I do? Should I text him?

You still hv his num?, is Bree’s reply.

No…

Francine deleted his number a while ago with hopes that she wouldn't text or ring him in her moment of weakness. She’s glad she did it because there were several times when she wished she could reach out and talk to him. So it’s safe to say that deleting his number was the best thing she’d ever done.

I think u should text him, see what he has to say

Francine is shocked that Sophia would encourage her to do so because between her and Bree, Sophia has always disliked Niall more – her distaste towards men apparently doesn't exclude Niall or Liam. But then again, Sophia has a point. Francine should hear what he has to say to explain or defend himself for the stunt he pulled last year. She deserves an answer more than he does.

Before Francine can compose her reply, Bree has already sent her Niall’s number along with a ‘good luck :)’ text.

Francine saves his number under the name Niall Horan – no emoji because he doesn't deserve it.

Her fingers hover over the screen of her phone as she tries to think of what to say. Hi it’s Francine? Hello, Niall, this is Francine? Hey there, stranger, it’s your old friend who hates you so much, Francine?

The door swings open before Francine can settle on one of those options. “Frenchy,” Tommy steps inside, out of the blue, startling her. His eyes land on her phone and he arches an eyebrow at her, “Are you talking to Niall?”

She frowns, “No.” She doesn't know why that’s his first assumption.

“Why’d you look so shocked when I came in?” A corner of his mouth curves upwards as he makes his way to her. He takes a seat on the edge of her bed and continues to give her an inquisitive look.

“I was shocked cos you didn't know how to knock, you arse,” she replies, picking up one of the pillows and hitting his brother with it. “Why’re you here?”

“Can’t I hang out with my sister?” Tommy asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Since when do you wanna hang out with me?” She asks him back. “I thought you’re too cool for me.”

“That is true,” Tommy boasts and nods his head. “But sometimes I like to hang out with someone as uncool as you to remind myself of how cool I actually am.”

“You’re an arse,” Francine comments.

Tommy simply shrugs, not at all bothered by the curse word thrown at him. He knows his sister doesn't mean it. Lying down, he lolls his head to the side and asks, “So, Frenchy, how’re you and Niall?”

Francine kinks an eyebrow at her brother, “Why’re you so nosy?”

“I’m not nosy, I’m… curious. Haven’t seen you posted pictures of him in a while.”

Sometimes Francine forgets that Tommy follows her on Instagram and is one of her friends on Facebook. She thought it’s a good idea to be able to track what her brother is doing through his social media, but it never crossed her mind that Tommy is doing the same thing to her.

“Since when did you pay attention to my Instagram?”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “Will you stop answering my question with another question? It’s annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” Francine corrects her brother, grinning when an offended expression crosses his face. “You still haven’t answered my question: why’re you here?”

“Mum needed us downstairs.”

“Why?”

“She wants us to hang the decorations in the living room for the party,” he tells her. This time, she believes him because it does sound like their mother. She always ensures that everyone is doing something – even their dad has to help. No one is allowed to sit around and do nothing, which Francine thinks is good. It’s fair. “I think she’s just trying to get us to do something together.”

“Well then, we should get to it,” Francine says as she gets off of her bed. Slapping her brother’s thigh, she adds, “C’mon. I know you’re dying to spend some time with me.”

Albeit the scoff leaving his mouth and the dramatic eye roll, Tommy gets up from Francine’s bed and together they make their way downstairs. Francine can smell the cake being baked in the kitchen – it’s a tradition that’s been passed down for generations, much like the party her family has never failed to throw every Christmas. She fears the day when she’ll have to throw her own party. She can hardly handle having three people in her flat, let alone her extended family.  

“You know you can talk to me, yeah?” Tommy suddenly says as he picks up a box full of decorations for the living room and places it near the fireplace.

“I know,” Francine replies with a sigh.

She trusts her brother, she really does, but the topic of her and Niall is something that she’d rather keep to herself. One of the reasons is because it’s embarrassing. Francine is sure that she’s going to live with the embarrassment for the rest of her life. How else do you live when at some point in your life, you told someone you love them and not only did they not say it back to you, they also left town the next day?

“So?” Tommy kinks an eyebrow at her as he hands her two Christmas socks so she can hang them by the fireplace.

“Promise me you’ll stop asking about him if I answer your question.” Francine gives Tommy a pointed look, to which he responds with a nod. He raises his pinky finger and Francine loops hers around his. When the promise has been made, Francine tells Tommy about what happened last year.

+++

The party is supposed to be a distraction.

After spending an hour in the living room and kitchen whilst simultaneously trying to maintain a conversation with her cousins, Francine finally decides to excuse herself to go upstairs. She tells them that she needs to use the bathroom but it’s just a cover up for her to get to her room and take a breather.

She’s feeling a bit tipsy and it doesn't help that Niall has been consuming her mind the entire evening. He’s made a home up there, in her brain.

When Francine told Tommy what happened between her and Niall, he brought up a question that left her wondering: what if he didn't get the letter? Francine brushed off that possibility when Tommy presented it to her because there’s no way he didn't get it. She’s positive that he got it. But now that she’s alone, all consumed by the thoughts of the one person she’s supposed to hate, she’s beginning to believe that her brother might be right.

There’s one way of confirming it.

Francine’s hands are shaking when she picks up her mobile phone and calls Niall. She hates phone calls – they make her so nervous, which is why she prefers text messages even though texting isn’t the best way to communicate with someone. Especially in regards to something serious.

Pushing aside her fear, Francine closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths whilst she waits for Niall to answer her call.

“Hello?” Francine sucks in a breath. Niall’s voice washes over her like a sip of her favourite coffee down her throat. She considers ending the call immediately and goes back downstairs where she can pretend that she’s not wondering why the person she loved didn't love her back.

“Hi,” she finally speaks.

It’s silent and then, “Frannie?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Oh, wow, I-I didn't think you’d call me,” he says. “You hate phone calls.”

“Yeah, I do.” She hates that her heart warms at the thought of him remembering the tiny details about her.

“Why aren’t you at the party?” He asks. “Did your cousin talk your ear off about her baby again?”

Francine can’t help the laughter that escapes her mouth. Niall is spot on with that. Her cousin talking about her baby was the final straw – she knew she needed to leave the room before she started asking her if she wanted a baby someday. If she were to tell her cousin that she didn't have an answer for that, she’d end up telling her that she must start thinking about the future. Francine can hardly decide what she wants to do tomorrow morning so asking her to think about the future is a bit too much.

“You have no idea,” she breathes out. Francine can hear his chuckle and a smile tugs at her lips. That is, before she remembers the reason why she called him. Clearing her throat, Francine prepares herself to ask the question she’s wanted to ask since last year. “Why didn't you say it back?”

His reply confuses her. “Say what back, Frannie?”

“That letter,” she says. “I wrote you a letter last year. I poured my heart in it, Niall, told you I was in love with you and you didn't even bother to say anything to me back.”

Niall doesn't say anything. Maybe it’s because he didn't expect her to confront him about this. It’s not in her nature to confront people. “I-Shit.”

“If you didn't love me, just tell me,” Francine continues. She doesn't know what’s gotten her fired up. “I-I could accept that. You didn't have to leave.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Frannie.”

At this point, she’s not sure if he’s telling her the truth or he chooses to not take responsibility of what he did last year by pretending as though he has no clue what she’s talking about. Either way, both hurts and she’s beginning to regret the phone call. She should’ve just stayed downstairs.

“Nevermind-“

“Frannie, you wrote me a letter?” He interrupts her before she can end the call. She can hear the confusion in his voice. “I swear I didn't know anything about it.”

Francine doesn't know what to say. This isn’t the turn of events that she’d expected.

“Frannie,” he says her name again to make sure that she’s still with him.

Overwhelmed by the new piece of information – Niall doesn't know anything about the letter – Francine ends the call. She turns her phone off quickly so Niall won’t be able to reach her if he decides to call her back. Her heart is thumping wildly against her chest as if she’s just run around the neighbourhood when all she did was talk to Niall.

Maybe her brother was right: he didn't get the letter.