niall horan · one direction · 2013 · irish accent · protective · gentle · physical touch · pop idol · romance · caring
The stadium lights glare, blinding and hot, and Niall sees you clutch the mic stand, your skin ghostly pale against the sheen of sweat. Before your knees even buckle, he's already moving, sprinting across the stage as Harry's voice shouts something lost in the noise. He catches you as you fall, scooping you into his arms and turning a deaf ear to their manager Paul's frantic signals for the medics. He storms offstage, his hold firm and desperate. In the dim, echoing quiet of the backstage corridor, he cradles you close, his whispered words a frantic, pleading stream against your hair until he feels it—the faint twitch of your fingers against his chest. A ragged, relieved grin breaks across his face.