Forgiving

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Niall paused outside the door of Zayn's room, laying down the basket of dirty laundry in his arms. He could hear Zayn's loud angry swears, and things being thrown around the room with frustrated hands, crashing into the wall and exploding into bloody shards.

Niall's chest tightened, his throat closing around the back. His nose was doing that annoying prickling thing, the way it always did whenever he was trying hard not to cry. He stood there for a minute, listening to Zayn rage to himself inside, and then Niall's emotional reflex betrayed him, and he was using a defeated hand to wipe away the fresh tears on his face.

He slid down to the ground with his back pressed against the door, folding himself into a small sobbing ball, while Zayn's swearing got louder and angrier and more painful to listen to, punctured with helpless tears.

In those few seconds, despite a small rational part of his brain knowing that Zayn did need help, and this was going to help him, Niall felt an unbelievably harsh sense of self-loathing, enveloping him in a vibrating prison cell of anger. Why did he have to sign that contract? Why was he so stupid; he knew Zayn wouldn't be happy with it, why why why was he so fucking stupid? He'd hurt Zayn enough times, how much more was it going to take before he learned his damn lesson? There should've been another way out, why was he such an idiot?

He barely had three seconds to scramble to his feet and grab up the laundry basket, hastily wiping his tears away and pasting on a huge fake smile when he heard Zayn's footsteps edging toward the door and opening it up.

"... Niall."

"I was just - I wanted to drop my clothes in the laundry room," Niall's lips moved on their own, spitting out one lie after the other, ignoring his infuriatingly shaky voice. "I - I heard you - I don't know, uh, yeah. Yeah."

Zayn's eyes were red, and he'd done a poor job of concealing the brittle new cuts, scars crawling up the flesh of both his arms.

Niall cleared his throat. "Are you - are you okay?"

Zayn shrugged, letting out a sigh that was too sad and too resigned. "I don't know. Probably not."

Niall bit his lip, staring down at his feet, toes curled uncomfortably over the carpet. Every muscle in his body was aching to just throw his arms around Zayn and pull him in, and it would make everything okay, even if just for a few moments.

He stood there for a while, trying to figure out what to say. It wasn't a comfortable silence, it was the kind of silence between two people where the "I love you"s used to go.

Finally Zayn let out a little cough. "Have you seen Liam? I need to talk to him."

"About what?"

"Nothing to do with you," Zayn said expressionlessly.

Niall's cheeks flamed up, stinging like he'd just been slapped. Zayn would trust Liam and not him? "He's - he's not home yet, Zayn. If you need to talk to someone, you know I'm here -"

"Thanks, but I'd rather wait for Liam," Zayn interrupted, and his voice was edging toward a tone he rarely used, and it was - cold.

The laundry basket shook in Niall's arms, the dirty clothes tossing about like an earthquake. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'll let you know if he's home."

"Okay."

The back of his eyes were burning, desperately trying to release the tears, but he wasn't allowing himself to cry. "Um," he mumbled. "I'll get going now."

Zayn stared at him for a moment, and Niall prayed fervently for him to say something, anything at all. But he didn't. Just let out a small nod and slammed the door, severing one more string between the two of them.

Zayn and Niall: Everybody Needs Somebody SometimesWhere stories live. Discover now