WARNING: a specific topic (that i will named unnamed for the the spirit of suspense) is mentioned in this installment of the suicide records that may make some uncomfortable. if so, there will be a black star (*) where the scene ends. you may skip to there if you're uncomfortable.

thank you, and enjoy book three!

-

four boys, all with different problems, but brought to the same place. over the course of a few days, this young therapist hears their life changing emotional stories about situations that are relatable for her and probably you as well.

december 2nd | 2015

"I like your skirt."

That being the first thing I hear puts me at ease, a warm smile replacing my previous consternation. I respond with a quiet 'thank you' before sitting down on the couch gently.

"Niall right? Niall Horan?"

"That's me," I respond with a nod.

"When your brother dropped you off here, he seemed to be overly protective."

I feel my insides bubble happily when she refers to him as my brother, not that dude that drives me around everywhere.

"How did you know he's my brother?"

"I just assumed," she explains warmly, "you two looked to have a brotherly relationship."

"Most people describe him as 'The Guy Who Drives You' or 'Your Foreign Boyfriend'."

"Oh my god," she laughs, "really?"

"Yeah, it's annoying."

"So anyway Niall, how are you?"

"I'm pretty alright, the most I've been in the past year."

"Why are you here?" She asks before shaking her head, "Actually no, no. Everyone I've seen this week has wanted to die for one reason or another. Do you want to die Niall?"

I hesitate, knowing the answer but not sure if I want to respond or not. It's a heavy question, whether it bothers you or not.

"Yes." I eventually respond.

"Why?"

"I mean," I motion to myself and she nods, "It's kind of obvious why I'm here. I hate myself, I am myself, but at the same time I can't help the anger I feel for being this way; I'm putting myself through hell by being me."

The therapist nods sympathetically,

"Now let me ask you, because there's a difference; are we dealing with a transgender situation here, or a cross dressing situation?"

"Cross dressing. If I even considered transgender, I would never hear the end of it..."

"What do you mean?" she asks and I bite my lip,

"My parents, my schoolmates, everyone would add on more to what I already have to deal with."

"Well, when did you decide you wanted to dress like a girl?"

I tap my chin, trying to find an easy way to tell this story without sounding like an idiot,

"I was four. I remember because I found it funny that I already knew who I was going to be."

"What happened?" she asks.

"We were in a department store," I begin, "I remember Zayn--my step-brother, accidentally took me to the girls clothing section. He had convinced my mum that he knew where he was going in the mall so she let twelve year old Zayn and four year old me run around the department store unattended."

She chuckles and I smile, continuing my story.

"So he tried to pull me out, but I was mesmerised by the dresses. He told me that once I had started taking clothes off the racks and excitedly trying to tell him what I liked and didn't like, he knew something was up. Zayn told my mum I took a liking to the girl's' clothes, and then she was buying me a new wardrobe."

"Really?" the therapist smiles wider.

"She fully supported me from day one," I smile, "My mum's a wonderful woman."

"What about your father?"

"Dad was skeptical," I murmur, "but he didn't mind anyway, loved me just the same."

"How did the rest of childhood go?"

"A lot of fights with teachers, one kid spilled his lunch on me but he got suspended, but other than that, elementary and middle school flew by without any issues," I sigh, folding my hands, "but not all good things last."

"Why not?" she asks, leaning forward as my head hangs low.

april 1st | 2012

"Is mum home yet?" I call out to Zayn, smoothing out my skirt, "we were supposed to go shopping ages ago!"

"I don't know," Zayn calls back, bounding down the steps, "she was supposed to come home two hours ago."

"Do you reckon she's alright?" I ask as he sits next to me, his arm hanging loosely around me,

"Of course," he says, kissing my forehead, "It's mum we're talking about; the strongest woman alive."

"Okay okay," I sigh, cuddling into his side, "thanks Z."

"Any time Niall."

His phone rings, as if on cue, and he walks away, answering the call that came in. I turn on the television, flipping to the best channel to ever exist; MTV. Everything that airs on MTV is a little quirky and different; just like me. So in a way, I relate to a television channel.

I hear Zayn laughing in the kitchen with his friend and let myself fall into a misjudged slumber as the TV hums quietly in the background.

No worries type of life. The best kind.

•

"Niall! Niall!"

I get up abruptly a few hours later, realizing I had fallen asleep. Zayn is grabbing his coat and throwing me mine just as quickly,

"What's going on?" I ask quickly, still feeling groggy from my sleep.

"Mum! I--mum's in the hospital!"

"What?!" Zayn takes my hand and drags me out to the car as I start shouting questions at him, tears pooling out of my eyes.

"Zayn what happened to her?!"

"God Niall I'll answer you in the car--"

"No no no," I grip his arm and pull him back to face me, "tell me. Calm down just, relax Z. What happened to mum?"

"A...a-a," he takes a deep breath, "a drunk driver hit her, he was in a truck too."

"A regular sized truck?"

"No a shipping truck," he stammers, "they said it knocked her right off of the freeway and the car exploded once they got her out of the vehicle."

He rests his head on my shoulder and let's out a heart wrenching sob. I hold him, knowing that one of us has to stay calm and collected before the news we already know gets released.

"Come on," I whisper, my tears falling onto his t-shirt, "we gotta get there now. Let's go Z."

december 2nd | 2015

"After that was the funeral, and then all we were doing was trying to forget about her." I explain sadly, "I lost my brother for a few months as well. He was so emotionally torn from the event and it wasn't only him, but my dad as well."

"What happened after the fact?"

"Well, high school started for me in September and by May, my dad had completely forgotten about mom and started dating one of his ex-employee, to my dismay. One would think he'd give it time after the funeral; I mean, at least a year maybe. It disgusted me, because my mum isn't a toy to be played with, and even him dating not even after three weeks of her passing makes me feel sick. And I uh...had a huge problem with my dad's girlfriend when we met for the first time."

"What?"

"When we met her and she figured out I dress like a girl, she spent the rest of the night convincing my father that it was unacceptable."

"Could you go into a bit more detail?"

august 22nd | 2012

"Make sure you dress nice Niall," Zayn says from across the hall, "I know you hate dad's girlfriend but...this could be the one for him and the least we can do is respect it."

"I know Zayn!" I shout back, pulling up my sweatpants over my underwear. The woman is a bitch, judging from last time I saw her. She makes it so easy to judge her book by her cover. She's tall, skinny, wears dresses too short for her, and the way she treats other people basically screams self-obsessed bitch. I'm not excited for this dinner, nor will I be excited for any future dinners with her (if there are any).

No way will I dress up for that woman. Never in my life will I exert effort for people as dense as her. I look at myself, satisfied with my outfit; joggers that fit tight on the ankles and one of my more decent jerseys over going with the complete trash bag look.

I hear the doorbell ring downstairs and groan lowly, snatching my phone off of my dresser. Taking my steps down slowly, I end up almost tripping when I see her. She's got my dad in her arms, kissing his lips off of his face in front of Zayn and I. I know they're dating but...is the idea of decency thrown out of the window just because?

"Niall," Zayn whispers, annoyed, "I said dress nice!"

"This is my version of nice." I whisper back just as irritated, "Look at her! She doesn't deserve to see me when I'm on fleek."

"When you're on what?"

"Nothing Zayn just...try to be a cool brother and leave it alone."

He smirks and turns to the now giggly happy couple as we wait for our father to officially introduce us to his girlfriend, who seems to be clinging onto him like a fish hook. Which could very much make her a hooker; ha, yeah, that was smooth Niall.

"Oh," my dad chuckles and I roll my eyes, "Jessica, this is Zayn, and Niall. They're my sons."

Zayn waves and I awkwardly give her a small smile, using all the effort I can bear to use.use.

"Uh..." she points to my shirt and I give her a queer look, "Why is one of the boys wearing a cheerleading shirt?"

"Because I did cheerleading when I was younger," I say sassily, "what's the big deal?"

"Oh," my dad sighs, "Niall, uh, wanna explain bud?"

"I don't dress like a guy," I simplify, "I cross dress. No boxers up in here honey."

"Simmer," Zayn whispers, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"So, what about dinner?"

We all agree that food is ideal, considering our immense hunger. Jessica backs up, somewhat disgusted I can tell, and I roll my eyes, heading over to my seat by Zayn. Unbelievable is what that woman is.

My dad sets out dinner and I'm fairly impressed. He went full out, pulling all the tricks for Jessica. Garlic bread, pasta, the whole shebang. It makes me wonder why he never did it for us.

"So, as soon as we all have a seat, we can say blessing and dive in."

I nod as Zayn grabs my hand, and I take Jessica's. Her hand is clammy and cold, like her soul I presume. My dad recites the prayer we always say at the table, and right after, I dive for the garlic bread.

"So how old are Niall and Zayn?"

"Zayn's twenty one, and Niall's fourteen in September," my father says with a proud smile. I smile back at him, feeling my dad's pride overflowing from his words. I know how much he loves us, and though mom's not here I know he's doing his best to do what he can for both of us. And with Zayn practically being an adult, it was almost as if I had two guardians.

"You know Bobby," I hear her voice and my mouth stops chomping down on my food, "With Niall at this age, do you really think that this is a good idea? Having him crossdressing before he's about to enter high school?"

"Why say that?"

"Yeah," I look at her with a bit of a glare, "why?"

"He may get bullied--he isn't normal. Maybe something will go wrong that can be avoided if you start dressing him the way he was meant to be. The boy is going to high school Bobby; maybe his mum let him because of a little phase but now...I don't think so Bobby."

"Jessica, we've only been dating for a few weeks, I don't think we need to discuss how I raise my son yet."

"I'm not saying I should intervene, but maybe we can talk about this upstairs later?" she says suggestively, trailing her hand down her chest. My foot falls out of my mouth as Zayn covers my eyes. I shove them away in a huff. Just because I'm thirteen doesn't mean I don't know when my dad is going to get laid.

"Uh, well maybe we can take a walk after..." my dad talks nervously and quietly as Jessica clings to him, and I instantly refuse to be in her presence. It's not like my dad is ever going to listen to her suggestions anyway.

"I'm taking my dinner upstairs," I say, piling on food before walking away from the table and heading to my room.

"See?!" I hear her say, "He's already starting his rebellious stage! Show him that you're the adult and you tell him how he dresses!"

I snort, shutting my door with my back before stripping off my joggers and sitting down in my bed with just my underwear. That bitch is going to choke on her bullshit before her food.

•

I fell asleep as soon as I finished eating and watched about three more episodes of Awkward. My slumber had been pretty uneventful until I woke up in the early hours. Not knowing the cause of my awakening (per usual), I take up my blanket and head to Zayn's room, hoping he's ready for me to climb in.

"Z?" I call out loudly, knowing my dad and his hooker are out in the town somewhere doing unholy things.

"Ni?" he whines, patting his hand around, searching for my body that wasn't there.

"I'm over here stupid," I chuckle, and he sits up with a stupid groggy smile on his pretty face.

"Can't sleep?"

"Woke up," I sigh, "can I?"

"Always," he says, moving over and leaving me space to lay down beside him. I smile, dropping my own sheet and crawl in bed with him. I slip under the sheets and let myself move closer to him, resting my arm across his stomach.

"Z..." I mumble once I'm settled and he has a loose arm around me,

"Yes?"

"Do you think dad would..."

"No." He says sternly, "Never. I wouldn't even assume that he would."

"Okay," I sigh, "good."

december 2nd | 2015

"What happened after?"

"Well they fucked," I sigh, not caring about my language, "and the next day my dad was telling me that maybe I should dress in male attire every once in awhile. I never thought one night of sex could change how he raised his kid."

"That's horrible..." she says, "he's your father; he should be accepting whatever lifestyle you choose to follow, regardless if Jessica told him to or not."

"You'd think," I scoff, "but I guess not."

"Has he held up since?"

"Still living under the dumb rule."

"What is it?"

"I can only dress how I want to when I'm at home."

"Then how come--"

"Zayn took me today. My dad doesn't even know I'm here."

"...Niall why are you here?"

"Pardon?"

"I feel as if you're not being completely honest," she says quietly, "So, why are you here?"

"I--"

"I know that there's more to the story than the fact that accepting yourself is hard. There's something that happened amidst that. I can sense it. Please Niall, I'm here to help, not hinder."

"I--" he sighs, "in a way there is more. But there's a time for it."

"When?"

"When I moved from Ireland and came here."

"Why did you move?"

"Zayn got a job." I start, my heart sinking down to my stomach, "It was so great for him and my step-mother insisted we go to London to support him."

"How did that playback on you?"

"Everyone in my high school was used to me dressing like a girl; no one bothered me, I had a few close friends...everything was okay. Jessica insisted that once she and my dad got married a year later from that one dinner, that we should move to London. They pulled me out in the middle of sophomore year and now I go to a new school."

"And how is that working out for you?"

"They call me Panty Boy," I sigh with watery eyes, "but the entire thing could have been avoided if the principal wasn't such a fucking idiot."

"What did he do?"

september 3rd | 2013

"So Mr. Horan, as a new student here at LHLI, you'll have to oblige to a series of rules."

LHLI (being the London High Learning Institute) sounds like the single worst place in the universe, and I've only been in the bloody place for thirty solid minutes.

I roll my eyes as I scratch at my stupid starchy uniform again. I begged my dad--no, dropped on my knees and cried to my dad, to get me a female uniform. Anything but these stupid slacks and sweaters that had no appeal to me. But he refused, telling me once again (for the 500th time at least) that Jessica was right. Me dressing as a girl was a phase that I needed to grow out of. But what my dad won't listen to is the fact that this isn't a phase; it's my lifestyle choosing. I like skirts, dresses, girls skinny jeans, panties, not what guys wear. Fucking boxers; what kind of idiot made those up?

I decided a long time ago I didn't feel sexy or myself wearing boys' clothing. I liked to strut around in girls' underwear it makes me feel good. The fact that because of this bitch step-mother stepping into our lives is why I'm sitting here in a chair wearing slacks is beyond me.

"Do you understand Mr. Horan?"

I zone back into the scene in front of me and nod, barely paying attention. He smiles, handing me a huge packet before looking back at me with the same wife creepy grin.

"So, any questions or concerns?"

"Well," my dad says quietly, and I know exactly what he's going to say.

"No dad--"

"Niall uh..."

"Yes?" The principal leans down and rests his hands on the multiple items on the desk.

"Niall has this thing, and I don't know whether this will change locker room situations or not."

"Dad--"

"He cross dresses, dresses more like a girl rather than a guy. Should he be in a different locker room?"

"Oh my god..." I mutter, mortified.

"What does he um...wear?" the principal adjusts his collar and I can feel the dread seeping in.

"Everything from bows to panties," my dad says without any discreteness and I come pretty close to crying, "I don't allow him to do it outside of the house, but the underclothes."

"Oh," the principal mutters, "Panties. Right."

"Sir!"

A secretary comes in and practically snatches his hand off of his desk.

"What what?!"

"Sir! The mic was on! The entire conversation was broadcasted to the classrooms."

His jaw falls and my father covers half of his face as the current event sinks in.

Everyone heard the conversation.

"How...how much of the conversation was broadcasted?" I look up at the secretary and she gives me a sympathetic look,

"From your name."

I die on the inside.

This was the last way I'd want people to find out, let alone have them find out at all. I burst from the room, dashing out of the main office as I see heads pop out of classrooms and hear kids laughing their faces off at me.

Here we go Niall. This is the beginning of the end.

december 2nd | 2015

"Idiot..." I mumble, "A fucking idiot. And he still is today."

"That, sucks." She sighs, "Did he ever get in trouble?"

"No," I groan, "and he didn't even do anything about the kids and--you know what's wrong with that school?"

"Talk to me."

"They're so rich, that they don't think they have to deal with kids like me; that if they leave the boy who likes to wear girl's clothes it won't matter in the long run. So they shoved me under the bus. I have one of the best GPAs in school history but they won't stop kids from shoving tampons in my locker."

"Niall I--"

"I just fucking HATE EVERYONE! Why can't I just be myself without having to worry about what's going to happen next?! Last week my dad to take to church on Jessica's request to see if they could fucking FIX ME!"

"Ni--"

"AND THE WORST PART OF IT IS THAT WHEN WE LEFT, MY DAD BLAMED THE CHURCH. HE DIDN'T ACCEPT SHIT! HE WANTS ME TO BE A BOY THAT DRESSES LIKE A BOY BUT I CAN'T! I FUCKING CAN'T!"

"Niall..."

I sit down, tears pooling down my cheeks,

"I just want to be me without getting hurt. It seems as if everything I do is wrong and it's not fair. I want to dress like a girl and feel pretty, not be considered one."

"You can't say that. If you're going to dress like a girl, the hardships come with it."

"But--"

"You think it's easy being a girl? We feel what you're feeling right now, every day. Most men I know are too macho to talk about things like this."

I laugh and she smiles,

"If you're going to dress like a girl, you're going to have to learn how to be a girl, and handle those feelings because that's what people are going to throw at you.."

"That's a shit concept," I sigh, rubbing my forehead.

"Well guess what Niall?"

I look at her and she takes my hand,

"That's what happens when you dress the part. People are going to assume different things of you. It's human nature. You just have to accept it and let your wings spread so you can fly."

"What's the point of flying if I'm alone."

"There's seven billion people in this world Niall Horan. If you fly, you're going to meet someone that will love you."

I nod and she removes her hand from mine, writing down quickly before looking back to me,

"Anything else you'd like to talk about?" she asks and I know where she's going with this.

"This whole thing started with a cheerleading outfit," I start, "Of all things, a cheerleading outfit."

december 13th | 2014

"Niall, try. Please."

"No Dad! God I hate basketball and all things sports! Why would you make me stay?!" I whisper scream over the phone.

"Niall," my dad says sternly, "you are a young man, not a pussy. Get it together and try out for basketball."

He hangs up the phone and it takes every able bone in me not to throw it at a nearby wall. This has been happening for the past four weeks and I swear it will never end.

I look in the gym, where there sweaty boys (none my type) all trying to train their hardest to get a spot on the team. My dad still to this day, doesn't understand; this isn't me.

So instead of walking into the gym, I walk away from it, looking around to see if there was any other after school activity I could pretend to go to.

I passed club after club until I found it; the one place that I knew I would fit into.

Cheerleading Try-Outs

december 2nd | 2015

"Did you get in?" she asks.

"Became co-captain," I laugh, "I blew most of those girls out of the water."

"That's good," she smiles, "how did games go?"

"Even better," I reply, "the girls were nice and willing to give me a female uniform; maybe because I was too good to let go, but either way they complied."

"True," she says, "what happens next?"

"So, last game of the season, finals. We've won, and the girls are all going crazy in the locker room, talking about how many basketball players they're gonna screw."

"And?"

"And the one of them mentions my older brother."

"What's his name?"

"Zayn," I reply.

"Oh, okay. Continue."

"So she's talking about how much she wishes she could screw him and how she wants Zayn's length to fill her like a container."

"Uh..."

"I know," I mutter, "Gross."

"What did you say?"

"I told her Zayn was gay."

The therapist cackles out loud and I look at her strangely, wondering what's so funny.

"Oh boy, that's great. Nice alibi."

"No, he's uh, he's really gay."

"Oh." She stops laughing and soon returns to her professional stature, "My apologies."

"It's fine," I smile, "would've been hilarious. But the girls then started asking me questions; like when my first kiss was, how great gay sex was, and I didn't know! I was completely virgin and didn't even know how to reply. When I told them I had never been touched, all of them laughed, ridiculed me for not getting laid. It was the most embarrassing thing, and when I heard they told the guys in our school too, I was done."

"So after that you went home?"

"Took the bus; I was exhausted and I was so mad that I wanted to cry. My parents were away on vacation the entire time and I was happy for that. They because those parents that went on trips and just left their kids to fend for themselves. Zayn was there thankfully, so I got a night with just him, which is exactly what I needed."

march 1st | 2015

"Z!" I cry, walking in with tears streaming down my face. I hear him trip over something to get to me as he comes dashing down the steps.

"Ni?" he takes one look at me and engulfs himself into me,

"You're fine babe," he whispers in my ear, "I promise you're fine. What happened?"

"The girls, they..." I take a deep breath and try to stop myself from crying.

"Ni, I thought they were your friends?"

"Zayn I don't have friends," I sigh, "remember?"

"Don't say that..."

"It's true!"

"Just...tell me what happened Niall."

"Zayn why am I so virgin?"

I know my question catches him off guard, but I press on anyway, knowing that Zayn is the only one that I can talk to about things as petty as this.

"Every other girl at school has had sex or been kissed and I just repel men," I sigh, "It's not fair, I want to be touched and kissed and loved."

"Ni," Zayn sighs, squeezing me tighter, "you can't search for love. It has to come to you. If you try to force it you'll never find the right person."

"Can we just cuddle and forget about this? I hate everything right now and I swear I'm going to cry."

"Okay okay," he takes my hand and we walk upstairs together, his warmth easing my sadness a little. He opens the door to his room, which is dimly lit to a point where I like it. He asks me if I want to change but I shake my head, taking one of Zayn's sweaters and pulling it over my head. I don't want to change, but it's freezing. He turns off the light that was shining lowly and climbs into bed, me following after.

march 2nd | 2015

"So tell me, what were these girls talking about?" Zayn asks me when it's past midnight and I wake up from the strange anomaly in my sleeping pattern.

"They asked me if I kissed anyone, and I told them no, and then they were asking me to tell them about the wonders of gay sex but I didn't know what to say Z," I mutter, embarrassed.

"You could have lied babe."

"I didn't want to."

"Of course, you goodie two shoes."

I laugh and roll over on top of him, turning my head to face him. Zayn is a really pretty person. And not only that, he also manages to be the best brother a person could ever have.

"I love you Z."

"I love you too Ni."

And then it happens.

december 2nd | 2015

"You stopped talking?"

I sit on the couch, paralyzed. It's been months and I still can't believe it happened.

"Niall, Niall do you need a moment?"

I shake my head no and continue, bracing myself for the worst reaction.

march 2nd | 2015

He leans down to kiss my forehead the same time I lean up to kiss his nose, and instead of either happening, our lips touch quickly before we both pull ourselves away.

"Sorry!" Zayn cringes and I shrug, calling it a 'whatever'. My legs stay draped on either side of his hips and my head rests on his shoulder. I can feel my crotch on to of his stomach as the cheerleading skirt isn't helping hide much. It's weird, because something about the situation is making me feel...tingly? Is that even a word to describe it?

It gets worse when he speaks up at least twenty minutes later.

"Niall..." he shifts awkwardly from below me and I look towards him with sleepy eyes, "Ni I gotta..."

He doesn't have to finish his sentence for me to know what he's going to say because I feel it. His boner is breaking through his sweatpants and pressing right against my own privates.

"Uh..."

"I'll just take care of that--"

"No..." I whine, not wanting Zayn to leave the bed and make me feel cold and empty again, "stay Z, I'll suffice."

"Niall it's..."

"Please..." My hips accidently circle on his erection and he whines, throwing his head back. Whoa. I'd never seen Zayn in this light.

"Sorry..." I whisper.

"No...no..." he says, his hands slowly sinking further down my back, "do it again..."

"Again?"

"Please Niall...do it again." His voice cracks as he says it, and I oblige, curling my hips in the same direction they just went in. He groans and grips my hips roughly, shocking me. This, this was wrong. His eyes grow a shade darker and his grip gets tighter as he stares up at me.

"Zayn..." I mumble, the words spoken by the girl that wanted to have sex with my brother haunting my good conscience, "can you kiss me..."

"Niall..." his brotherly instinct cuts in, "Niall we're brothers--"

"Step brothers." I remind him, "step brothers."

He looks at me and I nod, the proximity of our faces now affecting the atmosphere.

"Niall...are you sure? This is wrong on so many levels."

"I want to know what it feels like Z..." I whine, sitting up now, purposely landing myself right on top of his boner, "I don't want to wonder anymore."

"Niall..."

"Fine then you goodie two shoes. I'll do it myself."

I take him by his shirt and pull him up to me, crashing our lips together in an awkward mesh. Zayn's mouth feels so weird on mine, but weirder than the little peck we had just shared. His lips are soft up against mine and soon I'm getting used to the feel of it. His hands keep me steady and I let go of my grip on his shirt as he kisses me.

"We--" he pulls away and grasps my shoulders, "what are we doing?"

"Please please please Zayn," I beg, pressing down further onto him, eliciting a moan from deep down his throat, "I don't think I've ever wanted something so wrong to happen so badly in my life."

His pupils darken and his hands move towards my untouchables; they clutch my bum, grazing past my underwear and hitching up the cheerleading uniform skirt.

"You look really pretty..." he whispers, flipping us over and pinning my wrists to his mattress. Those were the single words I've ever wanted to hear in my life; You look pretty. And God did I love the feeling of hearing those words leave his lips.

His mouth attaches to mine again and this time he's grinding his hips into me. I feel the blood rush to my length as I kiss him back feverishly. The feeling rushing through my veins is one like no other as Zayn pleasures me with his mouth and his hands.

I sense the skirt being yanked off from beneath me and the panties latching onto my pale milky skin being toyed with. Part of me wondered if Zayn felt this way towards me all the time, or just today because of the hindering circumstances.

"Fuck," I hear him whisper as I see him look down at the sight. He happened to love seeing me in panties and it was turning me on beyond the arousal I thought I could feel.

"Zayn?"

"Yeah babe?"

"M'really hard, it hurts."

"I got it, don't worry."

His hand dips into my underwear as he grabs my throbbing length with his right hand.

"Fuck..." a moan escapes my lips and is mouth parts at the sound,

"Ni babe that was so fucking pretty..."

"Stop it," I whine again, "touch me."

He nods and strokes me in a specific pattern; up, and down. As time passed on, his speed increased and my heart started hammering in my chest. His hands works wonders around me as my eyes roll to the back of my head, moans and whimpers escaping my lips.

"Zayn..." I stammer, a burning pit in my stomach beginning to form, "Z I think I--"

"You think you're gonna cum?"

I nod and he pulls away, taking off his boxers,

"Babe, you want me to uh...?"

I suddenly realize he's asking if I want him to actually have sex with me. I shake my head almost immediately and he nods before asking me another question,

"Want me to finger you?"

The way he's asking is so cautious that I can't even resist nodding my head. I'm still throbbing hard and leaking with precum as he reaches into his desk drawer and takes out the lube.

"Z your still hard..." I say as he soaks his fingers in the coating, "can I...?"

"You--you wanna suck me?" he asks again, but this time in utter shock. I nod, and his face makes the expression he has when he has an idea.

"C'mon love," he says, "good thing mom and dad aren't home; the noise would give us away. But god you rotated your hips and I just fucking love those panties and that cheerleading uniform I just couldn't resist you little bro..."

'Little bro' bypasses me faster than I expected. His words don't register as he's leading me to lay across him with my ass towards his face.

"What are we doing Zayn?"

"69 Niall," Zayn tells me, "if you want me to stop, we will. I promise."

I nod and look at his length. It's throbbing red and leaking with precum, just as mine was. I take him in my mouth, unsure of what to do next. This was something I was most certainly experienced in. On the other end, I feel Zayn's single finger sink down into my hole.

"Fuck," I cry, wincing as he inflicts pain. He begins to ask if he should pull out but he can't finish as I take his entire length in my mouth on one go, trying to distract myself from the pain. A string of profanities leave his mouth as my own mouth sinks up and down in a fast motion. When the pain subsides down at my lower end, I move further down Zayn's finger, telling him he can keep going.

Eventually I'm feeling pleasure in two ways; Zayn fingering with not only one, but three fingers, and pumping my length slowly, taking down my erection as I quickly come close to the edge. Meanwhile on my end, Zayn is groaning from behind me as I suck and stroke, both of these tasks becoming harder and harder to accomplish as I become undone in his hands.

"Zayn--" I groan I bit too late before I'm spilling all over myself and his hand. I feel a twitch in my mouth and pull my mouth out almost immediately. But I suppose Zayn has other ideas, because he stands me up on my knees and I take him in all over again.

"Swallow for me..." he whispers, stroking himself until he comes in my mouth, curse words that aren't even real curse words spilling out of his velvet lips. I try my best and swallow every bit of what comes until he's done and pulling out of my mouth. I swipe the excess cum off of my lips as he looks, panting as he gets a good look at me.

"God you're wrecked," he says lustfully until his eyes revert back to their normal bright hazel, "you're... you're wrecked. I wrecked you."

Zayn's rushing over to me across the dirty sheets as he pulls me into a tight hug. It's when I feel tears sliding down my back that I start crying too. The lust of what we had done is gone and all that's left behind is immense guilt.

"Never again Niall. Never ever again."

december 2nd | 2015 *

"We haven't talked properly since..." I mumble, "even on the drive here. We just sat in the car and he stared at me for awhile and I knew he wanted to give me a kiss on the forehead like we used to, and I just...bolted. I miss cuddling with him at night, I just...I miss my brother. And now I have no one because of that stupid mistake."

"Niall," the therapist rationalizes, "what you did was a mistake. That, I have to tell you. Though it only happened once, incest is something that isn't looked upon well. I don't judge you for it, but this is something you can only do one thing about."

"What?" I ask.

"You need to talk to him," she says, "once you accept that it's happened it'll be much easier to talk about."

As if on cue, Zayn bursts through the door, phone in hand.

"Ni," he says, "if we don't leave now, dad's gonna catch us."

I look at the therapist and she gives me a discreet nod. I pick myself up, giving her a hug and a quick goodbye.

"Godspeed Niall. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'd like to schedule a follow up."

"For when?"

"December 12th. I'll tell you a time as soon as I figure out a schedule."

"Okay, thank you Miss."

Zayn thanks the therapist and leaves behind me. We both walk out the door quickly and once we're both in the car Zayn drives off, pulling onto the highway before things get awkward all over again. I feel his eyes darting back and forth as the road speeds past us and I decide it's finally time to talk.

"Zayn."

"Niall..."

"Zayn I hate this," I choke out the words, "I hate not being able to talk to you and everything being quiet and awkward and I want my brother back."

"Oh thank god," Zayn groans in relief, "I thought you hated me."

"Never!" I exclaim, sitting up and staring at him with tear stained eyes, "never Zayn never! God you're my everything! You're my brother I love you, I miss being able to come into your room and cuddle when I can't sleep and talking to you for hours whenever we're bored, and just talking in general! I miss you Z..."

"I miss you too Niall," he takes my hand over the dashboard, "I'm sorry that I ignored you and didn't see you hurting. I just couldn't bear the fact that we dad that while I was in control. I took away something that had significance. What we did just wasn't right."

"I know that now I know that," I mumble, squeezing his hand like it'll slip any second, "And I'm sorry I practically forced you into doing it. Never again, like you said."

"Good," he sighs, "because I fucking miss you."

"Me too. God, that therapist is a blessing. She was right. I just had to accept it before I talked about it--"

Then it hits me.

"Ni?"

"I have to accept who I am, and then come out!" I make a realization, "That's why I feel the way I do! I can't look in the mirror and accept that this is who I am for myself, not for anyone else."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so. But I'll mention it to the therapist when I go back for the follow up."

"Alright," Zayn agrees, "Hey, uh..."

"Yeah Z?"

"I still love you Niall."

"And I still love you Zayn."

next in the series: empty bodies
niall horan will return