Fifteen Minutes (Zarry AU)

Chapter 17

SIX WEEKS LATER

Harry saw the first moon six weeks ago, painted on the side of the telephone box by the Dublin. He thought it was a cruel coincidence so didn’t think anything of it, just waited for the sting in his chest to pass as Chloe hooked her arm through his and tugged him towards the kebab shop, promising him chips in pita. He saw the second one the next day, on the road sign at the top of his street. No one else would have noticed it – the Sharpie moon drawn just above the 1 on NW1 like a dot on top of an i – but as soon as he saw it, he knew it was Zayn and his heart broke anew.

He almost caved and called him, but Chloe had his phone so he wouldn’t give in to such whims. She’d promised to tell him if Zayn called and he hadn’t, not since the first week of incessant calls and messages that prompted him to give Chloe his phone in the first place, but Harry still wanted to call him. He even tried to remember his mobile number, but he couldn’t and he told himself that it was nothing, that he didn’t remember anyone’s mobile number, but it felt like a betrayal because Zayn wasn’t anyone.

So maybe Chloe’s right, if he gives it one more week – maybe two – he’ll forget everything else as well and that will be it. Is that when it will be over? When he can’t remember the colour of Zayn’s eyes? Harry can’t even imagine it. He can’t imagine going a minute without thinking of Zayn. His every thought, every breath, every heartbeat leads back to him, as though Zayn is an ocean that will swallow him whole if he lets it. So it’s probably best that Harry doesn’t call him, but he still aches to hear his voice again, to hear him say his name. No one says his name likes Zayn did, with a roll of his tongue that made the Rs rub together, and that scares him more than anything because the truth is: as much as Harry knows this is for the best, he’s still sure that he’ll hear Zayn say his name again. That Zayn will show up one day, holding a ghetto blaster over his head, or he’ll spray paint I LOVE YOU, HARRY across Camden Town bridge and everything will be okay.

That’s all that’s getting him through this because this can’t be it. This isn’t what happens in books and songs and films so Harry keeps telling himself to wait – wait, wait, wait – and he’ll get his happy ending. So when he sees the moons – sees them everywhere, at bus stops, on posters, on post boxes all over Camden – Harry thinks this is it. But it’s been six weeks and Zayn hasn’t said a word and Harry realises that nothing’s changed. So when Chloe sees the moon spray painted to the shutters of the newsagent’s at the top of their road and asks what it means, he tells her that it doesn’t mean anything. And that’s what he keeps telling himself until Ben marches into the Dublin and takes him by the elbow.

‘What are you doing?’ Harry gasps, his pint spilling over his hand and soaking through his Converse as Ben takes the glass, puts it on the bar and leads him through the crowded pub.

‘Returning a favour.’

‘I told you,’ Harry hisses, trying to pull away. ‘Zayn and I are done.’

‘That’s bollocks and you know it,’ Ben tells him, not letting go.

‘Will you just leave it?’

Ben ignores him. ‘Taken a shit recently?’

‘What?’ Harry asks, appalled, as Ben drags him into the toilets.

He shoves him into one of the stalls and when he shuts the door behind him, Harry’s heart starts to throb. He holds his breath, wondering what Ben’s going to do, if he’s going to flush his head down the toilet until he promises to call Zayn.

‘Listen to me, you floppy-haired fuck. I know you’re hurt and I know Zayn fucked up, but I am not letting you do this.’ When Harry tries to object, Ben points at him. ‘No. No more talking. Just listening. Listen.’ Ben points at his ear and Harry crosses his arms with a surly sigh. ‘Here’s the thing with Zayn: he sees things that other people can’t see. He creates things from nothing, from a bit of paper and a pencil, but when it comes to talking he’s useless. I told him I loved him when we were fourteen and do you know how long it took him to say it back?’