Work Text:
Their breakup wasn't what everyone made it out to be, especially what Niall made it out to be. Or what the press made it out to be. Niall told everyone - friends, family, and his very persistent manager - that they just weren't working and that it was time for a change.
But that was all wrong.
They were working, but their way of working wasn't sitting across from each other and talking about their issues in calm voices, it just wasn't. They were the type of couple who would start talking about their problems, then they'd yell, and then Marisa would push him back against a wall and get in his face, in which Niall would politely turn his chin up to avoid her hot breath on his beet red face. He would calmly try to tell her to calm down and to stay out of his face, so she'd keep egging him on, asking if he was really man enough to talk to her like a real man. At this point, Niall would lose it and grab her by her shirt collar, reversing the role and yelling in her face. He'd ask if she liked being talked down to, if she was woman enough to even be with a man like Niall.
Niall had a job, traveling the world and singing to fans and wooing teenage girls (and boys) all throughout the night. Marisa worked as a bartender in a pub not too far from their flat in downtown London. She liked it, it kept her evenings free so she could spend time with Niall during the day, and then she could leave for work when it was time for him to go on to the next country or to have a night out with the guys.
But she hated when they spent their time like this, and so did he. The only thing she looked forward to after the fighting was the angry sex they'd have after the yelling was through.
This time was different. There was no calm tones to raw throats and angry makeup sex once the argument was over. There was no waking up next to each other, laughing and apologising for being so ridiculous the previous night. There was no Niall running his fingers through the Marisa's fiery locks as she cuddled into his side, pressing lazy kisses to his neck as she offered to make it up to him by cooking her famous banana nut pancakes. There was no Niall scarfing down a plate of those delicious, perfect, golden, silver dollar pancakes while Marisa mixed up another batch, sitting on top of the counter, smiling down at the blond haired man.
It ended with a note on their bedside table.
Marisa kept the note for weeks, reading it over and over, trying to figure out why he hadn't just told her what was wrong. She would've taken care of him like she knew she could, but he was scared. She knew he was scared, she was scared too. But cancer wasn't worth leaving her for, was it? He was dying, to put it harshly. Marisa dealt with it better than Niall's other girlfriend did. When she found out, she bursted out in hysterics.
Not over Niall. Over the money.
"How will I live?" She cried out, dropping to the ground, "You're all I have! If you die, I'm out on the streets, known as Niall Horan's sad ex girlfriend who must be mourning his death all the time. I-I can't do that, Niall, I'm sorry."
Marisa knew that their fights only distracted the both of them from the fact that his cancer was killing him. They fought over stupid things, nothing to even be considered fight worthy. Niall forgot to bring milk home from the store? Fight, angry sex, banana nut pancakes. Marisa left the tv on in the family room, despite her being at work? Fight, angry sex, banana nut pancakes. Niall said that Marisa's friend wasn't as fun as she made her out to be? Fight, angry sex, banana nut pancakes.
The note only reminded her that Niall was concerned about her feelings. He didn't want her to be too sad about him dying, so he admitted to cleaning out some of items and moving into Zayn's flat until death consumed him.
Finally, she had enough. Niall wasn't going to sit around Zayn's flat, drinking beer and waiting for death to finally catch up with him.
One backpack and a drive to Zayn's later, Marisa knocked on the door, gripping the strap of her backpack tightly. It was mostly to keep herself calm and to not run out and drive back to her flat. A few footsteps padded towards the door, followed by that familiar Irish accent yelling to his roommate that he'd answer the door. Marisa raised her jacket clad sleeve, pressing her arm against the peep hole to obscure Niall's vision if he tried to peer out.
"Aye mate, when'd it get dark out? It's only half 4!"
A few clicks sounded from the other side of the white door, and Niall looked down at the petite red head, leaned against the door frame, and chuckled.
"My note not clear enough?"
Maria dropped her backpack, wrapped her arms around Niall's neck, and stared into his eyes.
"Oh, it was clear. Clear that you shouldn't state where you're running off to. You wanted me to chase you, ya wanker."
Niall smirked, closing the gap between them slightly, his lips grazing past hers as he spoke.
"You were gonna find me one way or another, weren't ya? You always do, Ris."
"And I always will, Ni."