Strings and Schemes

Chapter 18

He smiles back, "what happened?"

"I was kind of lost in my thoughts, the evening after the party, and the day had been perfectly fine, normal, and we'd made some huge strides but then I just was alone in my house for the first time, ever." I sigh, "and I started thinking, and  all I could think of was..." I feel my eyes prickle, "how not worthwhile I feel."

Liam frowns, pulling me into him. I pull away from the touch. I am two seconds away from falling apart, and I can't trust myself to be hugged at the moment.

"He-" I start but burst into tears, Liam softly rubs my shoulders. "He-" I try again.

Instead, I pull the note he wrote out of my pocket, Liam reads it.

"He gave you the artwork?"

I nod, blubbering, letting myself feel it.

"I've never had someone give me art," I whisper, "let alone art that made me feel - everything."

Liam delicately hands me back the note, "I'm sorry that no one ever made you feel special enough, Rain. Especially me and Louis."

I shake my head, "No - it's not you and Louis' fault."

He cuts me off, "But it is. We also failed you in this whole mess and you always forgive us, even when we blatantly ignore the situation you've been living in our whole lives."

"I tried to use him for sex, Li." I finally admit, horror priming my voice, realizing just how fucked up it all was. "He gave me the most beautiful gift, celebrated my wins, unabashedly chose me in a public way that we all know he doesn't choose to do often, and then I tried to use him to bury all my scary feelings."

A few days later, I'm taking a break from my art gallery. Or, walking away from it as I haven't done anything but stare at my art in anger for days. No calls, no texts, no Louis, no tequila. I have been fighting against all the answers that feel so natural to me.

Then, I hear it.

I'm standing in line at a coffee shop, the kind of place I never would have gone before, but something about my new apartment—my new life—has me craving little moments of unfamiliarity. The scent of freshly ground espresso swirls through the air, and I absently scroll through my phone, opening and closing my messages with Zayn, waiting to see three little dots. Or to write a message that feels worthy of him to send.

And then, it happens.

A low, smoky voice filters through the speakers, something hushed and intimate, like a confession whispered against bare skin. The melody is slow, pulsing, rich with something that reminds me of the streets of Baghdad. And the words—

"Why's it gotta feel like I'm walking a tightrope? Why you wanna see how far I fall? Cause I'm already up here and I got my eyes closed, and I ain't ever feel from a love this tall."

My stomach plummets.

"Are you ready, 'cause I'm ready to let go? Never thought I'd be ready again."

The barista hands me my drink, says something, but I don't hear it. My ears are ringing.

"Guess its something bout the neon red glow, got me thinking about giving on in."

The breath leaves my body. My fingers grip the coffee cup too tightly, the heat searing into my palm, but I barely register it.

"Something told me it was you."

This isn't just a song.

It's about me.

"Sitting with my legs across your torso. We are who we are when we're alone."

I know it in my bones, the same way I know the exact way Zayn's fingers feel on my skin, the way his voice drops when he's teasing, the way he looked at me before he told me I couldn't keep doing this.

I step back, nearly tripping over someone's bag. A few people in the shop are listening now, nodding along, completely unaware that my entire existence is being ripped apart note by note.

The post- chorus swells, and I swear to god, I feel it in my ribs—

"Are you the full moon or the sun?

Whatever you are

I swear to god, you are beyond compare"

He sang in Urdu. For me.

I turn on my heel and bolt.

"Raina, you look like you've seen a ghost."

For the second time this week, I don't know how I got to Liam's, only that one second I was storming down the pavement, and the next, I was standing in his doorway, coffee spilled down my sleeve, my phone gripped so tightly in my fist that my knuckles ache.

He frowns, stepping aside. "Come in. You're freaking me out."

I don't respond, just walk past him, dropping onto the couch, my legs barely holding me up.

Liam closes the door, eyes flicking over me with a careful sort of concern, the kind that tells me he's trying to piece together what the hell just happened.

"Alright, what's going on?" He sits across from me, elbows on his knees.

I inhale sharply, but I don't know how to say it. I don't know where to start. So, I don't.

Instead, I unlock my phone, pull up the song, and press play. Zayn's voice echos out of my phone, comforting and afflicting me all at once.

Liam leans forward as soon as the first note hits. His brow furrows, his fingers drumming against his knee, listening with the kind of precision that only someone who has spent years in and around music can.

Then, as the words pour through the speakers, his mouth drops open.

I don't speak. I don't need to.

By the time the song fades out, there's a charged silence in the room. Liam blinks at me, then at the phone, then back at me.

"Are you—" He stops himself, shaking his head like he already knows the answer. "He dropped this today?"

I nod, swallowing around the lump in my throat.

"And you had no idea?"

I give him a look.

Liam exhales, running a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ," Liam continues, "I knew he was back in the studio cause Lou was helping him as they often work on things together for fun, but I didn't know it had anything to do with you."

My jaw drops. Louis was in on this? How...

"How. Could. He?" I practically yell. "How could Louis help him evicerate me?"

He's quiet for a moment, staring at the screen like it might offer some hidden explanation neither of us have. Then, he looks back at me, his expression unreadable.

"You gonna call him?"

I don't answer. Because the real question isn't am I going to call him? It's what the fuck do I even say?