Days pass. Sometimes it feels like the days go by in a flash and other times it feels like time stands still.
Whenever I think about Zayn it feels like the clock is ticking without moving. But whenever I think about my exams the time suddenly goes extremely fast; growing closer and closer towards my exams even though I’m not even remotely ready. Tomorrow I’ll have my first official exam. The nerves run through my body, making me feel nauseous. The relax vibe and the ‘it-will-be-alright’ kind of attitude I had this year when it comes to school is completely gone. It’s so bloody close now. Only one day, or to be precise: thirteen hours and four minutes, and I’m about to start my first three-hour exam English.
Besides my stress about the exams and all the moments that I think of Zayn, I also feel stress about my future. I personally don’t want to think about it but my parents have persuaded me to look for schools after I graduate. My mother keeps pushing me and giving me ideas for appropriate schools. I know she means well and she only tries to help, but frankly I can’t have that right now. I already have so many things to worry about. And I don’t even know if I want to go to college. It will probably be like high school: everyone will hate me from the get go. They will think I’m a racist and they will not even give me a chance. I don’t want to go through another few years of hell. I want to be free. Besides, after my poor attempts of learning for the last couple of weeks I doubt I’ll graduate. Meaning: I need to survive another year at this god-forsaken school.
Right now I have the choice to bust my ass off for tomorrow’s exam or I can go to Hazza. The choice is rather easy.
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“I’ll be there in a jiffy, just need to make a phone call for school.”
I nod as I automatically go upstairs to his room. I sit down on his beanbag and grab Dusty, putting him on my lap. He struggles for a moment, until he finds a comfortable position on my lap. As I pet him I hear loud purring sounds.
“You are such a sweet cat, such a beautiful cat,” I say in an extremely high-pitched and childish voice, making him spin even faster and louder.
“Ready,” Hazza says as he plops down next to me and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
“Shall we watch a movie?” I propose.
Hazza nods and turns around to look at me. “You look better,” he states with a relieved smile.
“Well apart from my stomach that is flipping from nerves, I do feel better.” It’s true, I do feel better. I can now be with Hazza without constantly thinking about Zayn. I’m still not a ray of sunshine, but I do notice a difference within me. I still think about Zayn all the time, but it hurts less. I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore, or feel completely shattered. I still miss him and am still in love with him, but I finally learnt to accept it.
Beforehand I had mixed feeling about yearning for Zayn so deeply. Did I make the wrong choice? How could I say that I loved Hazza so much and wanted to be with him when I still had doubts about my decision?
Now I realize that it’s normal that I still have feelings for Zayn. Such strong feelings don’t just go away. That doesn’t mean I made the wrong choice, it only means I feel so much love for Zayn. It also doesn’t change the love that I feel for Hazza. It doesn’t make it less real or less strong. I love Hazza so dearly. The love I feel for Hazza is unique. Loving someone else doesn’t change that.
“I’m so happy to see you feel better,” Hazza says with so much tenderness, resting his hand on my knee.
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The rest of the day we basically pretend to watch a silly romantic movie, but mostly just talk, cuddle and have fun together.
That’s the beauty with Hazza. Besides everything he is also my best friend. We can chill and laugh together without having to worry about anything. It’s just so comfortable, so easy. ‘He is at ease’ as Zayn wrote in his diary… ouch.
“What’s wrong?” Hazza raises his eyebrows, instantly knowing something is up.
“Nothing,” I smile reassuringly. And it’s true. As much as it pains me that Zayn felt so awful about it, it makes me happy. Yeah I am at ease with Hazza. It feels so natural, so good. It’s all I need. He is all I need.
Hazza gives me space when I need it, comforts me whenever I feel lonely and makes me laugh whenever I feel sad. He is just so amazing through all of this and I can’t be more grateful to have such a wonderful person in my life.
It was always Hazza. Hazza was always the one I could count on. He was there for me and did basically everything for me. And now I want to give back; I want to be there for him, love him and make him happy. Yeah, I especially want to make him happy. He deserves it and I want to do it. I want to be there for him as he is there for me. I love him so much.
“I want to grow old with you,” I add.
Hazza looks at me with the biggest smile on his face since ages. It’s his special smile that he only shows when he looks at me. His most loving smile which shows off his cute dimples, make the corners of his eyes crinkle and make his green eyes sparkle.
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It’s a Tuesday, I’m in the middle of my exams and where am I right now? At a hardcore party. It’s a simple, illegal party at a secluded, empty house. It’s nothing spectacular (what can you expect on a Tuesday?) but it is exactly what I need.
I hadn’t seen Zayn for over two weeks, until yesterday at our first exam. As long as I didn’t saw Zayn I could at least try and make a poor attempt of not missing him. And as much as I yearned for him, I slowly but surely felt a bit better, less heartbroken. I still missed him like crazy, but it didn’t hurt so much as the first two weeks.
But then as I suddenly saw him again on Monday and all the pain came rushing back in. Yesterday was the first time he looked back at me as I walked inside the room. When our eyes connected his serious expression faltered and he looked at me with a pained expression. He looked sad, very sad. It was overwhelming to see the pain in his eyes, I just wanted to scream. I was the reason that he was like this. I did it. It killed me so much to see him and his pain that all I wanted to do was go to him, talk to him and even kiss him.
I did nothing.
Instead I sat down on my place and repeated that this is for the best. It’s over, it’s okay. But when the examiner gave me my exam all I could think about was Zayn. I tried to concentrate on my exam, but my vision kept showing me the look on Zayn’s face when our eyes connected.
I couldn’t handle the fact that I caused his sadness and I kept thinking about it even after my exam. I couldn’t focus on studying; I couldn’t even talk with Hazza to make me feel better. There was only one thing that could take my mind off of Zayn and his beautiful face and sad expression, or at least partly. Partying.
So that is why I’m here at a hardcore party with XTC running through my veins. Hakken on the music, going along with the beat. Dancing like a fool and feeling the bass in my body, like I’m one with the music. The music possesses me. I can only feel the music and there is nothing like it. The adrenaline rush, it makes your go numb, go in a trance. And that is all I want. To forget everything and just feel the music, feel the drugs in my body. Feel the greatness of life.
“HARDCORE TILL WE DIE!” I scream with one hand in the air as I keep dancing.
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I am freaking exhausted as I sit down for my Science Exam. I practically partied until I fell down on the ground. Because of the adrenaline and the wonderful feeling I had during the party I didn’t even feel tired. It was my way to escape and I finally was able to. I finally could forget about everything. I didn’t worry about my mom, about my exams, my future, about Zayn or about Hazza. For the first time in forever I didn’t feel guilty or felt like I let someone down. I felt amazing, like I could handle anything. Like the world was just the beginning of my greatness, I could do all, achieve all.
Unfortunately, that amazing feeling completely dies the next day. When you wake up it feels like the worst hangover you have ever experienced. You feel sad, depressed and unbalanced. Yesterday it seemed like the greatest idea of all time, but at the moment it feels like the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done. Obviously it doesn’t even come close to the stupidest thing I’ve done. I’ve done worse, far worse. The decisions I made this year are proof of that. Basically I’m just such a failure. Ugh.
I don’t look at Zayn this time. I don’t want to see his face or even acknowledge his presence. I know he is in the room, but I ignore it. It’s something I’m not very good at, but at least I can try.
As the teacher walks to my table to give me my exam I want to ignore that as well. Why bother trying? Why sit here feeling fucking miserable when I know I’ll fail my exam and probably all my exams?
All the teachers, especially Ms. Boonstra, always reminded us how your future depends on these few weeks. They say it in the most subtle way possible: ‘if you fail you will be nowhere, you will be forever washing dishes. Is that what you want?’ Basically they say: don’t fuck it up or you won’t achieve anything. And that should make people feel better? It’s bloody ridiculous!
“And it’s time to start, good luck.”
I stare at my pieces of paper. Right now washing dishes seems like a wonderful job. Just something simple. No worries, just dishes. I can’t possibly fuck that up too can I?
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After my horrible exam I ride back to my home. I still feel gloomy and like I can’t do anything right. My instinct is to call Hazza, wanting him near me. But Hazza is working on a project with fellow students and I don’t want to bother him. If I would call him to tell him I’m not feeling well he would instantly come over. I don’t want him to ditch his fellow students because I’m such a fucking mess. This failure needs to handle things without Hazza.
I arrive home, step of my bike and lock it, and walk to the backyard, hearing laughter. As I move closer I see Tom and Cas playing football. My mother is sitting on a bench, looking at them with a satisfied smile on her face. She is still not back to her old self, but there is a certain light in her eyes. I see happiness.
“Be careful!” she yells at the boys as Tom kicks the ball in her precious plants.
Suddenly I think back to my own childhood.
We had a swing in the garden, which my father had made himself. It was made out of wood and it creaked terribly. But that didn’t bother me at all, I loved it. I loved the feeling of flying, of going as high as possible. My mother however was terrified of that thing. She always kept an eye on me whenever I was on the swing. She was absolutely sure that one day that thing would break. I laughed and swung while my mother looked at me anxiously. With each cracking sound she screamed frightened: “careful! Not too hard.”
I loved the swing and I didn’t feel any fear whatsoever, until the accident. Apparently (although I barely remember) the rope broke on one side. I fell down and broke my wrist. It was the first time I broke something and I cried loudly, feeling the worst pain a kid could feel. Before the accident I faked a lot of tears and pretended that I fell all the time, but after that time I didn’t. The fun about faking pain was completely gone.
“Hey love,” my mother calls me as she waves at me.
I snap out of my daze and look back at her. She smiles at me with motherly warmth and love. Back then when I broke my wrist my mother was there to comfort me. And even now when I’m older I know she is still there for me.
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I want to thank the few people with their constant support (in the last chapter I will give all of you a shout out!) because that means so much to me!
I hope that more people take the time/effort to comment or vote on my story though; it makes me motivated to write (and write sooner).
I don't want to be pushy, but comments and votes show me that people appreciate my chapter/story that I write for you guys. Also if you have feedback or something; tell me.
Okay so I hope you liked this chapter (a lot is going on, sorry if it's too much). And now there are only 3 more to go!
If you want you can check out my new story, called: Holiday Secrets (Larry au).