This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 38

I jumped up, washed my face and brushed my teeth; convincing myself I had to make it right. I sprinted to his room, having forgotten my phone, so I just beat on the door without relent. No answer. I ran back to my room and called Preston. He said Zayn hadn't left yet, and I nearly sh-t myself with relief.

After an hour or so, I ran back to his room in hopes that he would answer, and he did. He just wouldn't open the door.

"Z, open up..."

"What's up?"

"I wanna talk."

"I've got nothin' to say—"

"Would you just open up?!" I snapped. "I've got something to tell you!"

"Haz..."

"Please...baby, please..." I whispered. At that he yielded, opening the door and stepping aside. He was dressed and prepared to leave: white t-shirt, ripped jeans, giant boots, similar to what he'd worn the night before, except for the fact that he looked awful. Had he slept at all? His hair was mused and there were dark circles under his half-lidded eyes. The room was dark, since he had drawn the drapes for some reason, and it reeked of cigarettes. Like he had smoked inside all night and never cracked a window.

"Hey..." I drawled, deep-chested and out of breath from my run. He chucked his chin at me, looking dispirited and thin, letting his hand slide heavily away from the door handle as he retreated. I entered and shut the door and watched him sit on the foot of the bed to check his phone.

"Youh had somethin' to say?" he uttered, with veiled annoyance, refusing to meet my eyes.

"...You leaving?" I asked, despairing, at a loss for how to approach him. He was heated, and just barely refrained from exploding on me.

"M'sure you've already heard ...that's why you're here right?" He got up and lifted his brows in a way that reminded me of a shrug. He walked over to a cord atop the desk and plugged it into his phone.

"...I guess you're right."

"What's gud, Harry? Speak."

"I just...I just don't want you to go...I guess." He sat back on the foot of the bed with his hands in his pants pockets, staring at the prints in the carpet. I backed up against the door and slumped down to the floor for a seat.

"How long?"

"Till I feel better, I guess."

"Y'okay?"

"I will be. Just as soon as I get away from here."

"And me?" At that, he shrugged. "Z...you mad at me?" He scoffed a little and rubbed his hands down his face, resting his elbows on his knees.

"M'not mad. Just...tired."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah...tired, is all. Just done, Haz."

"I know how you feel."

"D'youh?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Then why'd youh do it?" he muttered, still refusing to meet my eyes. It took several moments for me to realize what he was talking about.

"I didn't." That made him look at me at last, eyes like slits in the dim light spilling from behind the closed drapes.

"What the f—k do youh mean, youh didn't?"

"I just mean I didn't, alright?" I felt like an idiot already. I shrugged. "I just wanted to piss you off."