Rewinding Time (Narry)

Chapter Forty-One

Not going to lie, but I've been struggling with this chapter for a while until I added on the journal entry. Also, guess who's participating in Bromance Awards this year? I'm extremely nervous because I'm running against some of the writers who I really respect and also stories that I really love! I feel like this story has come so far since I began almost two years ago; I can still remember how excited I was when I received my first five votes! I honestly cannot thank you guys enough for the love and support that I've received thus far. I love you guys all so much! xx

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❝NIALL❞

"Stop it, Niall."

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm trying to cry onto it."

I turned my back from the dynamic duo to avoid their scrutinizing gazes as I proceeded to hold open my eyelid and gently press my finger against my eye.

"Did you at least wash your hands?" Liam asked, grimacing as I hissed out in pain, blinking rapidly and waving my hand in front of my eye.

It was already past midnight and the three of us had spent all day trying to figure out a way to get back to the nineteenth century. My sadness was progressively replaced by irritation and annoyance after the sixteenth idea was put to test.

I had already figured out forever ago that it had something to do with the crystal necklace so, we had sat Liam down and interrogated him. After all, Liam was the one who had given me the necklace during our little outing.

Of course, Liam had no idea; it made sense though, since he was absolutely flabbergasted when we first told him about Zayn's origins and the reason for my prolonged disappearance.

"Shall I read you another entry from the diary of Harry Styles?" Zayn asked, flapping the worn-out leather bound in front of my face. "Perhaps you need real tears with emotion rather than a meaningless bodily fluid excreting from your body."

"Way to make tears sound like feces," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes gently to sooth the pain. "Hit me with your best shot."

Zayn inched over towards the beat up cushioned couch and proceeded to pull a rich burgundy-colored blanket over his legs. He gently flipped the leather bound open and cleared his throat, licking his thumb and flipping through the pages until he came across one that he deemed was suitable.

"The first of February, 1890."

I felt an uncomfortable tightening in my chest as I swallowed thickly and held the crystal underneath my eye awkwardly. I timidly nodded in Zayn's direction, ensuring him that I was prepared for what was to come.

Despite the fact that the whole diary reading gimmick was completely Zayn's idea to begin with, he seemed to be the one who was much more reluctant to read it out loud. Frankly, I could completely understand where he was coming from. There was a reason why I had chosen to stop reading the diary that night; I couldn't bear finding out about Harry's life-his life without me.

Even though Zayn often put on a tough, neutral front, it was quite clear that he felt absolutely gutted and guilty for abandoning his best mate of fifteen years in his darkest hour; imagine finding a diary that someone close to you had written and every single page was filled with distasteful words towards oneself or drowned in lamentation. Certainly I wouldn't be able to live with myself from the immense amount of guilt.

I glanced up at Zayn worriedly; his eyes softened as he pressed his fingers against the drawing across the bottom of the page. He sucked in a breath before continuing where he left off.