Chapter Text
Most teenagers spend their spare time after school surfing the internet or hanging out with friends. Sometimes girls would go shopping and guys would like to skateboard around. Generally teenagers don't listen to confessions of others. Well, generally, but you see, Niall Horan isn't your typical teenager.
At five feet six, he was incredibly small for his age. He had golden locks that fell around his head in a messy order, and had piercing blue eyes. His father was also the priest at the local church, though it was not something he was likely to tell you, or anyone, really.
Everyday after school since the beginning of high school he would sit in for his father at the confession booth. It was a secret agreement him and his father shared, and was also a way in which he used to get an allowance. Most teenagers don't earn twenty bucks an hour for just sitting and listening to other peoples' problems and confessions. He doesn't have to do much, really. All he actually had to do was listen quietly and say a quick prayer for them after. And the best part was that he didn't have to deal with people (for the most part). Yes, people. He was very much afraid of people. People were his greatest fear. They didn't like him very much, and often picked on him during lunch and even in class when the teachers had their backs turned.
Which is why after school he hurried home and didn't linger to chat with people. He would drop his bag off in his room then make his way to the church that was less than a minute away from home. He would change into the familiar priest's cassock, and sit quietly in the confession booth, waiting for people to come in and speak.
Today, like most days, he was sitting in the peaceful serenity of the church, waiting for the next parish member or just anyone who wanted to confess come in. It had been a considerably slow day and the Irish boy had to stop himself a couple of times from nodding off into dreamland. He had stayed up late the night before rushing through his culminating project for his chemistry class, and was exhausted from the lack of sleep. He was about to drift off again when the bells jingled softly, indicating that someone had came in to confess. Niall instinctively shot up and straightened his cassock even though he knew the person won't be able to see him through the dark screen that separated them.
He nervously cleared his throat before mustering up his most 'priestly' voice and said like he had countless times before, “Speak and He will hear, confess your sins before the Lord.”
A short pause followed, and Niall was starting to think that he must've imagined the sound of bells ringing and that there wasn't anyone out there.
“Uh, I have a confession to make,” a male voice came to the other side. “I'm, uh, gay and yeah. I know that God accepts gay people and stuff too, but I act like I hate gay people.”
“The Lord hears and forgives you,” Niall said after he was sure the boy on the other side was done. He thought the male on the other side was about his age by his voice and his confession. It was a little game he had made up for himself to pass time. Guess the person on the other side's age and appearance, and maybe even identity, based on their voice and confession. He's heard all sorts of things for the past three years. From cashiers who took change out of the cash register to Easter-bunny stealing husbands. He's heard of the good, bad and ugly deeds of his town, and someone's gay confession wasn't a shock to him. In fact he's heard confessions like that a couple of times, but it was the first time he's heard someone confess for hating gay people.
“Uh, thanks,” the boy said. The sound of a chair being dragged on the floor was followed by the tinkling of the bell, announcing that the boy had left.
Now, Niall was extremely curious as to who this boy was. He definitely wasn't one of the regular patrons who came to confess. He didn't recognise the boy's voice, and the manner which the boy spoke told that he was pretty new to this confession business as well. And like that, he spent the rest of the day thinking of the mysterious voice on the other side of the screen and wondering who that could be.
***
Like every other day, Niall got to school just as the bell rang. He rushed into class, only to be tripped by one of the boys that sat at the front.
"Oops, sorry," the boy said in a mocking tone.
Niall heard that voice everyday, all the time. When he got to English class, that voice would taunt him, in the hallways it was that voice that would jeer at him and call him names. In the boys' changing room it was that voice that rounded everyone else up to take part in using Niall as a punching bag. One thing Niall didn't know was who excatly that voice belonged to. He never once dared to look up at the taunter's face, and was terrified of the thought of the voice's name, Zayn Malik.
Hastily picking up his books that were strewn all over the floor, Niall kept his head down as he shuffled to his seat at the back of the class. He only managed to catch the first few words the teacher was droning before he started zoning off and getting lost in his own thoughts.
Niall was out of the door the second the bell rang for lunch. He walked the familiar path to the back of the school and sat at his usual spot near the large maple tree. He quietly ate his lunch, enjoying the traquility of the empty yard, slowly passing time by watching the leaves swirl down in the cool autumn breeze. This was a place where he didn't have to worry about the bullies, the taunters, and most of all, Zayn Malik.
He sighed softly once his sandwich was finished, and leaned against the tree, wishing that the day would go by faster...