HOLLOW » Zarry ✔⚠

9

I'm such fucking failure. Zayn thinks He's holding back his tears as Harry is climbing off of him. How did he even end up here? At Harry's home of all places. Harry stands up from his bed and throws on his underwear. Then he tosses Zayn's onto him. "Get dressed. I'll take you home."

Zayn is confused. "H...home?"

"Yeah, I don't want you here anymore. I got what I wanted. Plus, my dad will be coming home soon anyway."

Zayn knows he is being used and he shouldn't expect anything more from he of all people. But this hurts. It really fucking hurts. He feels so useless because Harry just fucked him and now he wants to drop him off like he's some prostitute when he's not that at all.

And what makes this more humiliating is that he's let Harry climax inside of him twice.

TWICE!

That's pathetic. So pathetic.

Harry drops Zayn off. His knees are wobbling, his hands are shaking and his ass is in terrible pain. But he walks inside the house doing what he always does. He puts on a front and pretends like everything is okay. He pretends that he a isn't a fifteen year old boy who's been sexually active with the captain of his soccer team more in these past three months than he had been the first fifteen years of his life. He's acting as if some part of his life is still worth anything to him when in fact it is not.

His mother is standing in the kitchen at the stove stirring something in a pot. "You're home late. How was school?" She asks.

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"Just okay."

"Well, you could have called, you know. To tell me you'd be a little late."

Of course he could have called. But she should know by now that Zayn never uses that stupid cell phone which she constantly wastes $70 a month on. It just reminds him that his only contact is his mother, because he's irrelevant as hell and he has no fiends to talk to.

Front Zayn. Front. You're making a sad face. Hurry before she notices.

So he smiles. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

Now she's smiles. "Well, dinner will be ready soon. Go get cleaned up."

Gosh, she's so fake, it's funny.

"I'm not hungry. So I'm just gonna go to bed."

"At six thirty?"

"Yeah? I'm tired." Is all he says before he disappears around the corner. She doesn't need to know why he's tired. Nor does she need to know that he actually feels like shit right now. She just needs to leave him alone and continue to not care.

It's better that way. There's just too much effort in faking.

For both of them.

.

.

•••...•••...•••...•••...•••...

The foggy figure sits in the grass across from Zayn. "Why didn't you say 'no' Zayn?"

"Oh now you fucking show up?!" He suddenly snaps. "Where were you when I needed you?!

"I was there Zayn. I'm always there. You never listen me."

"No you weren't! You left me there and he... he raped me!"

"You have to tell him 'no' Zayn. And then you have to fight him. Or else it's not rape anymore."

"I can't tell him 'no'! Don't you get it?! Everyone will know about me! And he'll make sure of it! You obviously don't know Harry."

"Of course I do."

"No you don't."

"Zayn, I've known him just as long as you have. Since freshman year when he started touching you. Remember? Ever since you thought you were "confused?"

Zayn begins to shake his head and cry again, not wanting to be reminded of all the horrors he felt when he struggled with his sexuality. "Stop it... Just stop it."

•••...•••...•••...•••...•••...

Upon saying that, Zayn wakes up to feeling more worthless than he did before he went to sleep.

The figure is right... Zayn thinks. Maybe I should have said no. But I didn't.

That means this is all his fault the reason this is happening. He can't blame anyone for it but himself and he thinks that makes him repulsive, revolting and offensive to even look at. He's so ugly and dirty. This guarantees he will never be liked in any other way other than to be used as Harry's little sex toy.

Not that he wants to settle on being down on his knees in front of Harry every now and then. He hates it. And not that he is hyped on feeling Harry's lips and tongue explore his body either. No, he closes his eyes tightly when that's happening.

But does he really have a choice anymore? Can he afford to fuck up the tiny little bit of his reputation that may or may not still be decent in the eyes of others?

No. I'm sorry but I just can't.

It's okay with me if he touches me one more time.

It's okay with me if I sleep with him one more time.

It's okay with me if I let him kiss me one more time.

Yeah... it's okay.

That's Zayn hopelessly convincing himself. Because in reality, he isn't okay. Zayn's dying inside.

He's crumbling to pieces.

There's no help for that.

And what's worse than feeling that low with no way out, is that no one else can see it but him.