A Studious Affliction [Ziam] [Student/teacher]

Chapter Twelve.

Hi guys! Well, here it is: the aftermath. I really hope you like this and… well, in advance, I’m not even a little sorry. (I am sorry for the late update, though! Have my hugs as an apology.) :P

Also, I have updated a sample of a new Narry story I'm planning on writing! It's a famous Harry Styles story, where Niall isn't famous and... well, you should check it out if you like Narry. I'm posting Part 2 of the sample this week!. It's on my profile or in the external link. Thank you and I love you! xoxox

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I am an awful friend.

I am an awful, awful friend.

Or... am I?

I’m not really sure. What makes a person a bad friend, anyway? Are you a bad friend if you betray them; if you lie to them; if you deceive them? Probably, you are. What if they do something wrong first, though? Does it change anything? I guess not. I guess it just makes you a bad person. So, would I rather be a bad friend, or a bad person?

Neither, actually. What a stupid question.

I guess the whole point of this – of my deliberation of what makes a person a bad friend – is because I feel guilty... super guilty. So guilty that I don’t think I’m going to be able to face Niall or Louis on Monday. See, it’s Saturday morning now – it’s been a few days since I tried to make Mr. Payne feel nervous and nothing has happened. He barely acknowledges me, though there’s this weird electricity between us which I hate to love. It makes me feel awkward.

Back to the point, though.

It’s Saturday morning, and I am not at home. My parents think I’m at Louis’ house but I’m not - although now, I kind of wish I was. It’s the better alternative.

“Mornin’, babe,” Harry mutters from beside me. He tightens his arm around my bare torso in a sort of welcoming squeeze and though it flushes me with guilt, it’s hard to feel too bad, considering how Harry and I ended up... well, like this. Naked. Together. In a bed.

“Hi,” I say to Harry, desperately trying not to turn red. “I... ah, how are you?”

Though he laughs, Harry nuzzles into the back of my neck with a sort of contented hum and says, “Could be better, could be worse.” I feel him smirk against my skin, before he kisses it softly and I shiver. “Last night was... pretty insane, don’t you think?”

It was. It really was. I mean, when Harry rang me and asked me to go over to his, I didn’t realise we would sleep together; he sounded angry, so I came around to comfort him and to ask what was wrong. It sort of developed from there; I was upset over Mr. Payne, he was both angry and upset over Louis... we both needed to release some sort of stress.

And, well, sex is what we do to do that.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes from the bedside table and I lazily reach out and unlock it to check my messages. Though I’m still feeling hot from Harry’s comment about how last night was ‘insane’, I feel the colour drain from my cheeks because, jeez, do I feel guilty. Guess who’s texted me? “Yeah,” I mumble distractedly in reply, scanning over the message After a moment, I continue, “I, uh- Louis has texted me.”

Behind me, I feel Harry’s body stiffen and he shuffles on the bed, his hug becoming looser as if he’s come to the same sort of wrongness about this that I have. “Oh, uh... What’s he said?”

“That he stood you up,” I already knew that due to Harry’s rant last night, before we... “He says he needs to talk to me.”

Harry snorts. “To make fun of the fact I waited for an hour outside a restaurant in the stupid hope that he was just running late?!”