stars and terrain (zayn malik)

Chapter 71

Charlotte

"Just go."

I could tell Harry was conflicted about where to be. Follow his best friend of forever or stay with me, the poor pitiful girl in a hospital bed being asked questions by a police officer.

"Just go." I repeated, giving him a nod. "I'm fine."

"I don't want to leave you alone, Charlie. If I do he'll probably just be more mad."

"I'll feel a lot better if I know he's okay. Please, Harry, go find him."

He absorbs that and leaves me alone with the cop, who asks a few more questions before he leaves me alone for the first time since my car was smashed into this morning.

I have no concept of what time it is, but I feel groggy from the nap I woke up from, and I have a sneaking suspicion it's the middle of the night. I wonder when I'll be able to go home, and I sort of wish I hadn't sent Harry away because I'm sure he would know.

It's just something Harry would be on top of.

I also would really appreciate seeing my fiancé, but, like, an in-control version of him. Not the insane one that flew out of my room earlier. A few minutes later both boys returned, looking like weird mismatched members of a boyband, with Zayn trailing behind Harry like he'd just received a lecture.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," Zayn began before anything else. "I'm sorry, I just, I freaked out. I like, can't really believe this is because of me?"

He asks it like a question and he looks so distraught that I feel even more bruised, but this time it's my heart. There's nothing I can say that will make him feel less responsible for this.

I can't say, "oh it's okay," because it's not.

I can't say, "it's not your fault," because it sort of is.

I can really only say "I'm going to be alright," because Harry told me I would be, and I trust Harry.

Harry, who's hanging back by the door, unsure of whether or not to leave us alone.

"Thank god, Charlie," Zayn says, voice sharp. "Thank god, because if you weren't- if you..."

His voice trails and his hands ball into fists before he rests them behind his head.

"But she is mate." Harry pipes in as the voice of reason. "She is. And now you're here, and you two are going to get married and live happily ever after and everything is going to be wonderful. And I'm going to head back to the house and let you two catch up."

"Wait."

We both say it at once. Because I think we're both afraid of being alone together, without sunny Harry, the voice of reason.

Harry smiles, and his eyes catch mine.

"When do I get to get out of here?"

I knew he would know. "They said they'd likely discharge you in the morning. Have you not seen a nurse since you woke up again? I'm going to go find, Tabitha."

And like that he sneaks away and finds my nurse, leaving us there breathing the same air and I should be elated and happy in his presence but I'm just not.

Because he's doing the one thing I hate to even explicitly name in my brain because it's such an awful trait that I don't want to come to terms with the fact that my future husband does it.

He's making it about him.

Everything always ends up all about him.

And I can't blame him, because I'm sure that's what fame at a young age does. Makes you forget the world doesn't actually revolve around you.