You're Still Loved, I Swear *One Direction*

Chapter 17

“Zayn,” Louis hissed, trying not to wake anyone else in the house up, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Zayn stopped dead in his tracks, and turned around in the dim light to see his angry band mate’s face. “Just going out for a smoke, that’s all.” He whispered, slightly annoyed that Louis couldn’t put two and two together to see that clearly, with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his hand, Zayn was going out to smoke.

“You promised you’d stop.” Louis pointed out, running his tongue over his top set of teeth in frustration.

Zayn shook his head, “I only said I’d stop, okay? I never promised.” He reasoned, remembering the day a few months ago when the boys were all over him for smoking, and he said (and I quote), ‘Guys, I’ll try, but there’s no promises with this addiction.’

Louis sighed, running his hand through his feathery hair, “I just…I don’t think it’s fair for us to punish Niall for not quitting his addiction, when you still get to feed yours.”

Zayn, now seeing where Louis was coming from, rubbing the back of his hand over his closed eye lids in attempt to run the sleepiness away. “I can’t stop.” He groaned.

“Niall said that too.” Louis pointed out.

Zayn just threw his half-empty pack and lighter on the table in complete and utter frustration. “Take the damn things, I’m going to bed.” He excused himself through gritted teeth as he pushed past Louis to stomp up to his bed room.

The black haired boy knew of the prominent existence of his spare pack of cigarettes in his bedside table drawer, as well as a new lighter, but he tried with all of his might to ignore both objects. He needed to smoke; something about taking a drag of the tobacco was so….refreshing. He didn’t care about the smell that he always carried around, and he didn’t even think about the effects of lung cancer or anything. He just wanted a smoke.

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The next morning, Zayn awoke to a painful back ache, a creak in his neck, and a longing for a cigarette. He’d hardly slept the night before; the cigarettes kept crawling into his mind, no matter how hard he tried to push the thought of smoking away. But Zayn knew that with one, just one, smoke; he’d feel so much better. He just needed to secretly be able to do it; because he knew that none of the boys would be very happy about the idea of him smoking.

He quickly grabbed the spare pack and brand new lighter from his bedside table, and tip-toed over to his balcony. He shut the door so the smoke wouldn’t stink up his room, and he picked a single cigarette out of the pack and lit it. After just one drag; a sense of relief washed over him- clouding his vision and mind from everything in the physical world.

But underneath the bliss; Zayn thought of Niall. Niall Niall Niall Niall. Niall; who was struggling with his self-harm addiction.  Niall; who was trying so damn hard to quit hurting himself- and even had gotten spanked for relapsing- and yet Zayn was sitting there, on his balcony, enjoying a smoke himself.

He might as well have been slitting his wrists.