I Don't Love You (And I Always Will)

Chapter Thirty Two

"That sucks." Harry said. "Well not the career part, but the getting left out part."

"Yeah." Zayn chuckled dryly. "But that year I lived with Louis, and I saw him get his heart broken for the first time."

Harry froze. His breath was knocked from his lungs, his eyes glued to the sidewalk.

"This kid named Henry. We danced with him. Had known him for years, and he was one of Lou's best friends. We all thought they were adorable together, at least at first." Zayn took a deep breath, shaking his head. "Guy turned out to be a piece of shit. Treated Lou great until he got what he wanted from him, then he left."

"Oh." Harry sighed, anger bubbling up in his chest.

"Lou was heartbroken. Cried for weeks over this guy, and I was there the whole time. Every tear, every pillow punched, every phone call I convinced him not to make."

Zayn turned to Harry, his brown eyes piercing Harry's own. He wasn't stern, perse, expression gentle.

"He hasn't dated anyone since. Claimed he hasn't met anyone. But I'm the only one who's seen him heartbroken. I know what it looks like."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked, voice trembling. Zayn smiled softly.

"You know why."

Harry blinked, forcing himself to breathe. Zayn patted him on the shoulder, turning to go back inside. Harry heard the door slide closed, but he couldn't move.

He didn't break Louis' heart. He couldn't have. He and Louis didn't have feelings for each other, they were just both attractive and good friends. They were fooling around, and they both knew it wasn't anything serious. Harry would never get into another relationship with a coworker. He wasn't that stupid.

Harry shook his head, walking back inside to find the place empty. Everyone must have cleared out while he was outside with Zayn.

Harry washed the wine glasses and folded the blankets on the couches, moving methodically through his night routine.

"Night, Bernard." Harry whispered, falling into bed.

He didn't sleep for a while. 

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Rehearsals for Romeo and Juliet were going well, all things considered.

Nick had been staying out of Harry's way so far, their only contact was the Christmas present Nick left for him. Harry didn't know if he should be relieved or concerned.

Harry and Louis still weren't speaking. They were cordial, of course, but people were starting to notice things were different. Eleanor was trying to facilitate conversation, Gigi watching the two of them closely. Liam and Zayn were tiptoeing, but Niall was as oblivious as ever. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Harry was gathering his things to leave for the afternoon when he felt breath on his neck. He froze, a familiar voice echoing in his ears.

"How are things with Tomlinson?" Nick asked, voice teasing and high. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, shoving his things in his bag. "Trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your business, Nick." Harry warned, shoulders tensing.

"Oh, but it is." Nick rasped, his breath hot on Harry's neck. "He made it my business when he started spreading rumors about me."

Harry clenched his jaw, zipping up his bag. He was ready to leave, and ignore Nick for the rest of time.

"It would be a shame if I did the same in return." Nick sneered. "Maybe something similar to what happened to you back in London."

Harry whipped around, his veins pumping red hot fire.

"You wouldn't." He growled, staring Nick down.

"Oh, but I would." Nick laughed. "He needs to be cut down to size anyway."

"You stay the hell away from him." Harry seethed, taking a step closer to Nick, backing him into the set of lockers.

"So feisty!" Nick chuckled, looking down his long nose at Harry. "I thought you learned your lesson back in England, but maybe I'll have to teach you again."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the locker room door swung open. A corps de ballet rehearsal had just let out, and they flooded the dressing room, Harry shouldering his way out into the hallway. 

He ran out of the building, ignoring Liam's calls from down the hallway. He pushed out of the glass doors, rushing to the side of the building. He leaned his back against the cold, gray stone, struggling to breathe.

He had to do something.