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Z • Argument - Part two • K

Austin shook his head slightly, setting about making a big lunch for us all.

"Oh." I muttered weakly. I'm not at all sure what else I had expected, this was my fault after all.

I took a seat at the table beside Nick, grabbing his glass of water a taking a deep steadying swig.

"He hates me, doesn't he?" There it was.

There was that question that had plagued me all morning since waking.

Surely he must hate me, there's no way he didn't. Not after what I said and did.

I slapped him in the face.

"Don't ask that. You know the answer." When I didn't reply, Nick continued.

"Y/n, Zion would never hate you." I barked a humourless laugh.

"Maybe not. But he deserves to hate me." The kitchen fell silent, everyone turning to stare at me.

"Stop it."

I shook my head, a blank expression on my face.

"And you know what? I deserve to be hated."

"Y/n." Brandon warned in tone that told me the that conversation would soon be over.

"And what's better is that I-" I was cut off by the door slamming open.

I jumped up, edging around the table to get a better view of the hallway.

Zion was walking slowly towards us, cheeks red and swollen.

I turned away from him casually, a sound half way between a squeak and a sob coming from my lips. I covered it with a forced cough, silently praying to whatever god would listen that this encounter wouldn't be disastrous.

No one said a word as he entered the kitchen, staring right at my exposed back. I rolled my neck casually, palms beginning to sweat.

I turned to face him, pretending that I hadn't seen him coming. The expression on my face wasn't forced, however, as I saw the dull glint in his eyes, no doubt a reflection of my own.

His gaze travelled down to my exposed arms, fixing on the bruises there. His face paled. But he stalked forwards regardless and my heart stopped, thinking he was coming at me.

Instead he pulled out a chair from the table and sat without a word. He pulled his phone out his pocket and began mindlessly scrolling.

I sent all the boys a pleading look, wordlessly asking them not to leave me alone with him. Their own faces were grim but they nodded solemnly.

Then my phone buzzed in my pocket and I fished it out. He had messaged me. My eyes widened and I knew he was watching as I unlocked my phone and read through the message.

Once.

Twice.

Go to our bedroom in five.

Part of me bristled that he still had the guts to order me around and I ignored the message. But I was still fully aware that no matter how much I didn't want to, in five minutes time, I would be in our bedroom.

Those five minutes passed painfully slowly. The guys had managed to spark up some meaningless conversation as I stood there, hands braced in the table, heart hammering so hard it was a miracle that they couldn't hear it.

Then, without a single word of parting, I strode out of the room, down the hall and into my room, leaving the door ajar behind me and flopping onto the bed.

No more than thirty seconds later, he emerged, a bag of frozen peas in hand and sat beside me.

I let him lay the bag gently on my hurt arm, and I reached up my hand to hold it on myself. Eyes trained on the floor and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm so sorry." Tears began to roll immediately and I brushed them away hastily, still not looking at him.

"Not as sorry as I am." His voice was a low rasp and I shook my head, teeth chattering as I held in my sobs.

"I-I don't know w-what happened." I moaned, dropping the peas and covering my face with my hands.

"I was stupid, Zion. I'm so so sorry." I was crying hard now, hiccuping around my words.

"Please, y/n. It wasn't anyone's fault, it just happened. And these things happen within relationships, it's a part of it. I don't want you to cry over me, y/n."

"I can't h-help it." I sobbed.

"I love you, Zion." Though he made no move to touch me, I felt him relax beside me.

Seconds passed, but then his hand came to rest on my shoulder.

Part of me didn't want to forgive yet, but the other part was rapidly falling apart, and needed him to catch all the pieces before I crumbled completely.

He didn't touch me fully and I didn't want him to, not yet, but I let him pry my wrists from my face and wipe away the tears. I let him hand me the bag of peas and pull me off the bed, leading me back into the kitchen.

I let him push me gently onto a chair and sit down beside me, pushing me a glass of water.

We sat like this as I continued to cry shamelessly, sobs eventually reducing to hiccups then to sniffles.

He didn't go back to mom's house after that, spending the night with us and sleeping in the spare room. He didn't speak much to me or me to him but we both knew that we were just processing what had happened and so didn't push each other.

And I was happy for it to be like that. For us to slowly come to terms with what had happened and build up our relationship again, piece by piece.

                              ◇   ◇   ◇   ◇

Three weeks later I woke up, stretching and yawning. I hopped out of bed immediately upon hearing soft music emanating from the kitchen and I walked lightly to that room.

Zion was stood by the stove, cooking up breakfast alone.

I grinned, sneaking up behind him and jumping on his back.

He squealed and I laughed freely, allowing him to wrestle me off and onto the floor.

"Jesus, good morning." He was smiling and pulled me into a tight hug.

I hummed back, resting my head on his chest as he swayed us gently.

His grip was tighter than it used to be, holding on for longer. We both knew why, terrified at the thought of there ever being a rift between us again.

I pulled away, looking him in the eyes, chin still on his chest. He traced patterns on my forehead, tucking away any stray pieces of unbrushed hair.

Then he kissed me, softly and sweetly, hands moving down to trace circles on my hips idly. As if we had all the time in the world.

And in a way we did.

He pulled back, grinning. I mirrored his expression.

But then I caught a whiff of something and I scrunched up my nose.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing, I just... can you smell burning?" His eyebrows furrowed and he sniffed. But then his eyes flew open and I was flung off of him as he turned back to the stove.

"Shit! My pancakes!"

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As requested  ☆   Sorry it took so long   ♡

Word count - 1780