Lovers End [h.s]

☆ Thirty-six ☆

HARRY STYLES

"Look, H." Zayn pointed to some files laid out in front of us on the table and raised an eyebrow. "The timeline of her whole fuckin' life doesn't add up."

"What'd you mean it doesn't add up, Zayn? Does my life add up perfectly on paper or are we just gonna keep spewing out bullshit for an explanation that appeases us?"

Zayn sighed and leaned his back against the pillows of the couch, running a hand through his hair, and closed his eyes for a split second before looking back at me.

"That's not what I'm saying, and you know that," he narrowed his eyes towards my direction and then picked up a file. "Your life can be traced back to the time you were born, it's all there, 'kay? Hers, on the other hand," he tapped the opened page of the file he was holding. "It dates back to when she was 15 — and even then, the details are so vague I'm debating if it's real or not."

"Well, then dig fuckin' deeper. 'Cause y'know what I'm hearing right now? That my long-time friend might be your number one suspect and I don't even know why. Do you get my frustration here, mate?" I raised my eyebrows just as he looked back at me with a tired look.

"Harry, just listen for a second. 'M not asking you to get involved, this is all me, alright? All I'm asking from you is to listen to what I have so far so we can tell Constance to look through her room."

"Fuck, Zayn. I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job–"

"Yeah, you kind of are," he interrupted me with an eye roll.

"–but you have to see where I'm coming from," I sighed. "Imagine I told you that your dog was spying on you for the government–"

"I work for the government, and I don't have a dog, H."

"–and then suddenly you don't know who to trust because that dog was your long-time companion, and your whole life has been, apparently, a lie."

Zayn looked at me with a bored expression until, slowly-slowly, a small smile appeared on his face. Rolling his lips into his mouth, he tried to keep it from expanding until he couldn't keep it in anymore and he buried his face in his hands.

"Harry, you're insane," he muttered.

"Stop laughin' at me, I'm being serious right now." I crossed my arms across my chest and huffed, leaning back until I hit the couch and sagged.

"I know you're being serious, but I can't help it when you're acting like a toddler whose mom said 'no' to a piece of candy before dinner," Zayn grumbled and looked over at me with a funny look.

When my eyebrows flew up, I thought that's where he was going to end the insult, but no. No, he continued.

"You know, now that I think of it, you seem like a leash kid...Were you a leash kid?"

If even possible, my eyebrows flew even further up my forehead, my eyes widened at the same time my jaw dropped and I felt like I had the wind sucker-punched out of me at that disgusting and vile accusation.

Me? A leash kid? Do I fuckin' look like a leash kid to him?

"You have got to be kiddin' me, Zayn. There's no– you know what?" I glared at him, turning my body around so I was now fully facing him.