Echo Of Us • Zarry

BF 3

Harry wasn't prepared for the grief that came after Zayn had left. Truly, irreversibly left. Not because of any external forces, as he did with the band. This was all their doing, their shortcomings and mistakes and faults and words never spoken and fights never finished. In Harry's life, Zayn is gone. He's as good as dead.

The ache Harry felt those weeks before the true end was nothing compared to the days following their fight. Accepting the loss of a lover is never easy but Harry's never been through anything quite like this. After Zayn had left the band, Harry was still holding out hope that one day they'll meet again. Now, there is nothing to alleviate his pain. When they got engaged, Harry thought that was it, that was his happy ending. He would marry the man he's loved since he was a kid, they would be fine, they would be happy. Nothing prepared him for this. Having the love of his life snatched away from him out of nowhere was made worse by the three years they spent together like a normal couple. Harry now knew what it was like walking down a street holding Zayn's hand without being scared people would see them. He knew how blissful living together was, how good he slept in their bed, knowing there wasn't the fear of Paul or someone else walking in on them in the morning before the bus call. They were a couple, a unit, partners. It was the depth of Harry's desires translated into his life.

He felt invincible. He thought he'd always have Zayn just a call or a text away. That they would always be together, always touching, kissing, fumbling around in a mist of youthful love. God, he was wrong. He was so fucking wrong.

But Harry's not a fool. He knows this was the right decision for them. His rationality doesn't ease the grieving. It doesn't stop his body from aching for Zayn's touch, for a kiss. It never stops the wish to have Zayn next to him on the couch watching a film or at the dining table sneaking Evie pieces of meat or at the sink in the morning brushing teeth. That thought of Zayn when he sees a meme or a thing he would like doesn't stop popping up in Harry's head a million times a day. He wonders when will it end. When will he be free, his heart out of this gilded cage of spent love?

"Mate, you've got to stop working," Sarah says as she refills Harry's wine glass. Harry looks up at her, giving her a shit-eating grin. He closes his Moleskine and puts it behind his back on the couch before reaching for the wine.

"What's wrong about working?" Harry shrugs a shoulder. "I feel like laziness is worse than working a tad too much."

"You've already enslaved us in the studio," Mitch quips. "When you're at our place, a ban on work is in effect."

"Fine, fine," Harry puts his hands up. "No more working or work talk, got it."

"H, are you really alright?" Sarah asks. She's sitting on the other side of the sofa with her legs pulled close to her chest. The stem of her wine glass is balancing on her knee as she holds it with only two fingers.

"God, why does everyone act like I'm the first person in the history of the universe to go through a breakup?" Harry huffs, slamming his back into the back of the sofa. The Moleskine is harder than it looks, Harry notes as he nearly winces. "I'm fine, honestly. I'll write it all out of my system and everything will be fine."

"You smashed a perfectly good guitar yesterday," Mitch quirks an eyebrow. Harry's mouth falls open in a gasp. "Okay," he waves a hand. "I did smash a guitar. But, the very important piece of information you're missing is that Zayn gave it to me. Last year for Christmas. That's why I smashed it." After a moment he adds, "It was shit anyway."

"It wasn't shit, it was a really expensive guitar," Mitch doesn't let go. "You could've given it to me."

Harry scoffs into his wine glass. His words come out slightly muffled, "I pay you enough for you to buy twenty of those, brand new. Not tarnished with my bad relationship juju. It's probably cursed and I'd never forgive myself if that guitar made you and Sarah break up."

"Harry," Sarah nudges him with her foot. "I think you should see someone."

"Too early for that," Harry dismisses it. "My poor black little heart is still sore and very delicate. I have to say, however, that I need a shag. Any recommendations, I'm open to anything."

Sarah chuckles. "No, you arsehole, like a therapist or something. Both you and Zayn have like ten years of fucked up accumulated on your person. That cannot be healthy for like, your brain."

Harry scrunches his face at her. "Am I loony, Sarah?"

"Not loony, babe," she smiles a little. "But heartbroken."

Harry blinks slowly. "Since when are you a Hallmark writer, Ms. Jones?"

"Since I learned that one of my best mates and also kind of my boss couldn't spot a toxic relationship even if it was under a microscope." Mitch whistles at that and he and Sarah high-five over the coffee table. Harry tries to laugh but really, he's quite offended. He retorts, "We weren't toxic."

"Eh, you kinda were," Mitch shrugs. "No offence. You were still kinda cute."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Whatever, not everyone is as perfect as you two. Enough about that. Sarah, how did you like the beat in the bridge from that song from yesterday, the one with the lalalala's."

"Nope," Sarah shakes her head. "Enough about work as well."

Harry groans and covers his face with his arm. "I can't think about anything else but work or I'll truly go mad!" he cries.

"We're adults, aren't we?" Sarah asks and Mitch nods agreeably. "Let's talk about the weather then. How do you like the weather, H?"

Harry uncovers an eye from underneath his arm. "It's too bloody hot and I'm wearing corduroy pants, how do you think I like the weather?"

The room erupts in ringing laughter. It's moments like these that keep Harry afloat. It gets better. It always gets better.