Neon Red [Order The eBook] [Zayn]

16

"Fuck youh...." I said, tearing up. "I don't fuckin' need youh, Haz. Who the fuck do youh think youh are, anyweh? Youh ain't nothin' special, maan. You're average as fuck. Youh think you're better than me, posh boy?? Youh think you're too gud to answer the fuckin' phone for me?!"

I took a few rocky breaths, realizing I looked like a straight up lunatic yelling in an empty room. Plus, I didn't have a right to be upset. Not technically. I don't know what I expected of him anyway. I knew he wouldn't be happy with the news, but I thought he'd eventually understand that an engagement meant nothing at the end of the day if we never actually got married. I had promised him that at least. And he knew me well enough to know I would never marry her or anyone else. That I couldn't do that to him. So why the fuck was he shutting me out? Exactly what had changed between he and I? Nothing, absolutely nothing. The only thing different is that she had a ring, and that the press would mention us every now and again as if we were making plans. What was so fucked up about that? Especially if it only helped protect he and I in the end?

I couldn't begin to understand him when he got like this. He was so fucking childish and petty when he got jealous. So fucking weird. I hated that part of him. And he was punishing me like I'd never been punished before in my life. It hurt like hell because I knew I'd lost him for good. How long could he hold a grudge remained the only question to be answered. How long before he warmed up to me again, if ever? He was a warm guy, right? That much I knew. It was difficult to make him angry, and it was difficult to make him act out, but I seemed to be the exception to each one of these things.

He got angry at me often, and blocked me every now and again as a show of defiance. But this time, he just wasn't answering at all, which was somehow a move crueler than blocking. Because at least with blocking I knew he couldn't realistically keep me blocked forever, and that he had felt passionately enough to do it. But with him screening every single call for nearly a month, things weren't looking good. I think he was finally over me.

***********

Later at soundcheck for the first show in Adelaide, Australia, he didn't look at me once. I fucked around with Lou and Liam as we ran through the songs and watched him isolate himself, occasionally pulling Niall and only Niall into a private conversation at the flank of the room. His mic was set up two places away from mine, which wasn't surprising. He was probably tired of me stalking around the room with my eyes. I might've been freaked out too if I could feel how unflinchingly I stared at him between songs.

The second we were free of performing, my mind went directly back to him. To be honest, it never really left. My eyes darted compulsively in his direction throughout soundcheck, tracking his every move like a P.I. Each time he checked his phone, I took note. Each time he sipped his water, each time he ran his fingers through his hair, each time he adjusted his in-ears, I registered it like a creep.

I knew the patterns of his behavior better than I knew my own. Most of the time I could tell what he was feeling based on how often he pressed his lips to his tattoo or how aggressively he adjusted his mic pack. I had read and studied him for years like a course book. So much so that I could practically sense his moods before he exhibited them. It was insane. I was insane, but this is what he had reduced me to after weeks of stonewalling.

We wrapped up the last song on the setlist and he was off to the side of the room untangling his headphones. That was another ploy he used to shut me out, keeping his headphones on whenever we had to travel together to deter anyone saying anything to him, particularly me.

A deeply annoyed part of me surged forward and before I had consented to the idea of approaching him, I was standing at his side, picking up someone else's water to justify my being there.