Bullet From A Gun

18: I Hate You, Don't Leave Me

18: I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me

“Thank you!” AJ says to the cab driver. She quickly pays him and gets out, slamming the door shut before he drives away. 

The bar Zayn decided to go to looks like a dump and the area around the bar looks like a horrible place to be. She shakes her head and goes inside. The bar is deserted. There are only a few people lingering around, cleaning up. The lights are still off, but she quickly spots Zayn across the room. He is sitting on a bar stool, arguing with a bartender. She sighs and heads over to him.

“Hi, we spoke on the phone?” She says, unsure of herself as she greets the tired looking bartender. 

He snorts. “Yeah. You need to get him out of here now because he’s pissing me off and if he says one more word, I’m calling the cops.”

She puts her hands up. “No, no! I’m going to get him out of here now. Just give me a minute,” she says quickly, relieved when he agrees and walks away, leaving them alone.

Zayn still hasn’t said a word to her or even looked at her.

“Zayn, we have to get out of here,” she tells him, trying to grab his hand, but he yanks it away from her. 

He stands up, striding forward as best as he can, hitting a few chairs and tables due to his drunken state. AJ runs after him as he starts to stumble over his own two feet.

“Zayn, please, let me help you,” she begs, trying to grab his hand.

“I don’t want your fucking help.”

“Zayn, please,” she begs.

He looks back at her. “Don’t touch me,” he tells her before storming off, hitting a few chairs on the way out. 

AJ chases after him, fixing his mess on the way out. When she gets outside, she finds him sitting on the edge of the pavement, smoking a cigarette. She walks over to him and sighs. He looks up at her and then stares out into the empty street, taking another drag of his cigarette. 

“I don’t fucking get it,” he says after he exhales the smoke. 

She watches him as she stands to his right. She doesn't say a word in fear of angering him. 

He looks up at the run down buildings. “Am I not good enough for you?”

AJ opens her mouth the tell him the opposite, but he stops her before she can get a word out.

“Because I know I'm not and don't even try to tell me I am,” he says slowly and quietly. “I don't even blame you for kissing him. You should've fucked him, too. He's much better for you. Shit, he'd probably take better care of you than I ever could.”

His drunk honesty makes her feel uneasy because he's wrong.

“Zayn,” she starts, crouching down to sit next to him. “I don’t want him,” she says quietly.

He doesn't make an effort to look at her as he takes another drag. “You know how I acted like I didn’t like you the first couple months? It's ‘cause I knew you could do so much better because you're fucking better than me.”

“Zayn, I’m not better than you,” she corrects him quickly. 

He laughs dryly. “You’re delusional as hell.”

She stays silent. 

“You know I'm fucking right. You should just leave and go back to him. Maybe if you dated him, none of this shit would have happen.”