Under Summer Sky • Zarry

22. Too close to the sun

"Okay then. Sorry," I mumbled.

And then I felt sensitive and vulnerable all of a sudden within a split second of quiet, my insecurities naturally crawling back inside my mind. "Do you still need me?" I asked quietly, my voice dropping with worry.

"Yes," he said softly. "But I'm starting to realize that I need you more than I can have you."

And now a feeling of hopelessness. "I'm doing the best that I can."

"Yeah..." he responded, his voice hoarse and hesitant, and a stir of quiet was now drifting between us through the phone.

"Well I'm gonna go," he continued, and I could tell that Zayn wasn't okay and it hurt because I didn't know how to make it better, or if I even could. "I'll talk to you later."

* * * * *

To no one's surprise, I didn't talk to Zayn about Silas.

Zayn didn't want to know anything about him. He made it abundantly clear to me that he didn't want to hear about us, if we ever hung out, nothing at all. Not one peep about him. I knew that Zayn was just protecting himself and his feelings of jealousy that he hated having, and I understood why he felt like it was necessary.

So it became one of those situations that existed but went unacknowledged whenever we would catch up and talk about our days.

And just like Zayn had warned me of, we hadn't seen each other in person for almost two months now.

Our conversations remained to be the same short, sporadic bits of things here and there and he became even busier as mid-terms approached and so was I. It was growing much more difficult to stay connected to Zayn as this time wore on, especially since I was working really hard at keeping my marks up, and now I also had a part time job at Bentley's, a bakery down in Shoreditch.

I also kept falling asleep every night after studying and homework, pretty much mentally drained and missed Zayn's calls half the time, which meant that our phone sex was practically non-existent. I was far too exhausted between football, classes, homework and now my job.

I was like a robot, just living on autopilot, and my soul felt like it was slowly but surely starting to deteriorate bit by bit.

"Mate...are you seriously passing all your classes?" Nick asked me as we strolled through the UEL campus, hot venti coffees in hand amongst the cold, November air.

"More than passing," I confirmed, drawing my hoodie up over my head, smiling proudly to myself. "I'm actually crushing it."

Nick grinned back at me. "Never seen you work this hard in my life. Look at you, Styles. Who even are you? Working, acing school...not having any sex. You must dying. A walking corpse."

"I feel like I am," I replied dramatically as we approached Origins for a quick brunch.

"And how's it going with Zayn? Still the same?" he rang out, now scooting into our usual booth in the corner of the restaurant with Nick looking down to admire his freshly manicured nails.

I shrugged. "It's just like...I don't know. All we do is complain about how much shit we have to do and say I miss you to each other over and over again like a broken record."

Nick cleared his throat, like he was getting ready to say something that I didn't necessarily want to hear. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you and Zayn don't work like this?"

"Not now..." I huffed.

"You avoid the truth so much," Nick commented dryly.

"Do not," I argued.