Zayn Malik
"How's Harry?" Anne took a sip of her coffee, and the way she was looking at me was making me feel nervous, and it was a bad idea to be sitting across from her at the small table in my hotel room.
Her presence was enough to make me think about what happened when Harry found out she was actually alive, the memories were nearly as painful as the bruises all over my face.
Three days had gone by and I still hadn't heard from Harry himself, only Cleo texted me occasionally so she could let me know how things were.
And they weren't good.
I refused to leave L.A. before talking to him, I knew I fucked up but we had to sit and talk one way or another. Shit was already fucked enough and I knew there was no way I could magically fix it, the least I could do was properly explain my actions.
If even so he decided to not forgive me... then it was his choice. But I needed to explain myself, this was all Anne's fucking fault. Harry was my best friend and I loved him very much, what I did probably made it seem like I was being selfish when it was the total opposite.
And now she was in my hotel room as we waited for Amber's call, and as much as I had avoided her these past days I just knew I had to let her know what happened.
As soon as she saw me, my beaten up face was proof enough that things weren't good. I was putting some ice daily and it wasn't as swollen, but the ugly bruises wouldn't fade so easily and the many cuts his rings left on my cheekbone were probably gonna leave scars.
Harry improved his fighting skills, I had to give him that. I was very much caught off guard by his speed, but either way, I wasn't planning on fighting back.
He had every right to lash out and explode the way he did, I was lucky Cleo stopped him. And I was also lucky that she understood how important it was to have Anne alive, even if Harry didn't know about her involvement with the list yet.
His mother's intentions were in the right place, but that was never enough.
Anne had to sit and talk to her son, tell him what she did and why... but from what Cleo told me, Harry didn't want to see his mom just yet.
My stay in the city of angels was being quite problematic, I mean, Cleo herself had threatened me with a knife and now Harry nearly beat me up to death.
Well, my head wasn't in the best place ever since I was kidnapped and it was still throbbing very much, the pain was always there. The memories were coming back slowly, but it was useless now anyways.
I remembered Cindy's voice... and Liam. A little too late, but who knew that all it took was someone hitting me in the head again?
My plan was to find a doctor when I got back to New York, I probably had a concussion again and it was dangerous to keep having one after the other.
The painkillers I was taking were helping a bit, but talking to Anne this morning was the last thing I needed.
"Harry isn't fine." I deadpanned. "He won't be fine."
Anne took a deep breath, adjusting the cardigan she was wearing before she crossed her arms over her chest.
"He wasn't supposed to find out like this." She shook her head.
"No shit." I snorted, taking a sip of my own coffee. "Tell me, how did you plan on telling him? You barely tell us shit and you're also a damn fugitive, Anne. You're lucky the focus is currently on your own son. Do you have any idea how fucked up this is?"
