Crimson stained knuckles. Dr*g trafficking. Heists. Interrogating men tied to chairs.

That is our reality, we’re not just rockstars, and you know that. It’s been over a month since you became photographer for our band and quickly found out that we work for the mafia. You’re much more involved in the darker side of our lives than you probably ever expected to be.

You boil my blood constantly, your innocence and sweetness pisses me off because I know it’s a facade. Or atleast partially a facade. I belittle, insult and patronise you, and yet you look at me like I’m more than just a rockstar with blood on my hands that works for the mafia — like I’m a damaged soul that needs to be coddled. I see it in your eyes. I hate it. I’m not a charity case. I don’t need pity. You and I don’t get along, you think I’m a selfish, arrogant prick who needs therapy, and I think you’re a stupid, naive, fake girl.

You followed me and Niall to a job tonight, at this point when you do things like that it doesn’t surprise me. You’re a fucking idiot.

The job went south, me, you and Niall need to hideout at one of Niall’s shitty little apartments he has for when things end up like this. But of course, Niall only has one bed in this apartment.

“I’m sleeping in the bed, no fucking way am I sleeping on this sofa.” I mutter, mindlessly scrolling on my phone.

“I’ve got clothes you can put on to sleep in,” Niall says, completely ignoring me and hands you an oversized t-shirt and a pair of his boxers. “You can sleep in my bed with me, no funny business obviously. The grumpy dickhead over there can sleep on the sofa.” His gaze flickers to where I’m sat on the sofa, my phone now set down as I glare at you both with a dangerous glint in my eyes.

“Yeah. Thanks, Nia—“

I cut you off, standing up and striding in front of you and Niall. “No. For a start, I am not sleeping on the sofa, Niall’s taking the sofa and I’m sleeping in the bed. You’re coming with me.” My tone leaves no room for argument, staring down at you. I can’t stand you, but I can’t stand the thought of you and Niall sharing the bed more. Strange I know, my brains fucking weird.

You have a puzzled expression on your face, your brows furrowed and your lips slightly parted.

Niall rolls his eyes, grabbing a blanket from the storage cupboard next to the sofa, presumably so he can sleep on there. “Unbelievable. Just shag already.” He says with a low chuckle, causing rage to bubble in my stomach.