I cried myself to sleep, and then I woke up to the memory of Silas saying:
I don't want you to regret it.
But it was too late because I already regretted it. I was in a state of hating myself and my stupid, impulsive, drunken thoughts and my actions based on an assumption, insecurities and my inability to trust because of it.
And I was really starting to hate how I was so emotionally immature and incapable of making a rational decision when it came to relationships.
Maybe I just wasn't built for them.
But of course I didn't have time to sit around and feel sorry for myself because I had to get ready for work, even though my head and heart were both pounding like a heavy metal bass line. So I got up and faced the day, spending the morning swallowing my issues and being polite and cheerful to all the patrons at Bentley's Bakery; that was my job and my mum was counting on me.
And I kept slyly checking my phone every time the rush died down at work to see if Zayn had texted me back, but he still hadn't. The worry was now filling my mind up like dark clouds rolling in as the time crawled by far too slowly, afraid that Zayn was going to ignore me now.
Then I was off to football training once my shift was over, practically rushing over to Sportsdock with Zayn's blue and white bandana wrapped around my head, since I wore it like that every time now. And I spent all afternoon taking my anger out on the field, so much to the point where my coach told me that I needed to to take a minute for myself.
I guess everyone could see that I wasn't okay.
I wasn't expecting Silas to catch up with me so soon, either. He came up to me while I was on my way back to Marley House after football training. He jogged up behind me abruptly as I was speed walking across campus with my air pods in, now clapping a gentle hand on my shoulder and I froze before turning around, forced to face the ghost of my mistake.
I took my air pods out. "Hey...what's up?"
"Harry...I, um. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."
I shifted awkwardly. "Yeah I'm good," I lied.
"You sure? It's just that I couldn't sleep much last night because I was worried about you," he said, his voice filled with concern.
"Why would you be worried about me?" I asked, cocking a brow.
"Because you were a bit drunk and you seemed strange after we um...you know. I mean...I enjoyed it of course but...I have to be honest, I could see something else in your eyes and looking back on it, maybe it was the wrong move, like I shouldn't have done that with you last night."
I sighed, looking at the apologetic expression on Silas' face and I felt awful. I realized just how good of a person Silas really was, that he was still somehow more concerned with my feelings than his own, and it hurt me even more to think that I could be so fucking selfish all the time.
"No it's just..." I started to say, fumbling with the words. "It's my fault, not yours. You're such an amazing guy, Silas. Like...seriously incredible. I did enjoy it, I'm just all over the place and...maybe you shouldn't even bother with me, honestly."
"Look, I like you Harry," he said earnestly. "I know that it's not really the same for you, but I still like you, anyway. But I don't think we should do that again, not when your mind is elsewhere, when you're wrapped up in someone else. But if you need a friend, I'm still here."
Damn, how could someone be this understanding?
I nodded, feeling a bit relieved by his words. "Thank you, Silas. I appreciate that more than you know. You're going to make a great therapist, by the way."
He smiled at me faintly and squeezed my shoulder with gratitude before walking away, and I just stood there on the campus walkway for a minute and thought about how Zayn was going to react if I told him what I did with Silas. I knew that he would be upset with me, maybe even hate me.
Suddenly I didn't feel so relieved anymore.
* * * * *
"Harry, stop being so hard on yourself. This whole self loathing thing is not a cute look on you," Nick commented as we sat around our kitchen table, Nick munching on an egg roll from China King take out.
"Zayn is gonna hate me," I groaned, bending forward and banging my head on the table top.
"Why should he? You can do whatever you want," Nick tossed back, reaching out to mess up the tousle of curls on the back of my head.
"Doesn't matter. He's still going to be pissed."
I lifted my head up and saw Nick rolling his eyes subtly. "You should not be this stressed out. You're only 18 for fuck's sake mate, it's first year of uni and I'm already getting grey hair and wrinkles just looking at you."
I groaned again.
"Listen. I like Zayn. I really do. And I know that he lights up your world and all that but..."
"But what?" I interrupted.
"But are you happy?" Nick questioned.
"I am...sometimes."
"Sometimes...," he repeated. "Okay, but then you're lonely and moping around a lot of the time. I just hate seeing you like this, curly."
I sighed deeply, starting to feel more conflicted now than ever before. "I just wish I could see him more. When we're together it's so..."
"Amazing," Nick finished my thought for me. "Yes I know. You tell me this like a dozen times a day. I love that for you, but I just don't want you to have a meltdown or anything. You gotta keep it together."
I nodded understandably, then forcing myself to grab the pint of lo mein because my stomach was now growling from having had no appetite all day. "So...do I tell him about Silas? What's the right thing to do here?"
"No, God no! Do not tell him about you and Silas," Nick returned instantly.
"I can't keep this from him," I murmured, taking a bite.
"Well...you can do whatever you want, but Zayn was the one who told you that he didn't want to know a god damn thing about Silas so if I were you I'd protect him from your drunken mistake."
"Ugh...I'm going to be haunted by this for all eternity," I muttered to myself.
And then my phone started ringing; Zayn was finally calling me back, and I immediately dropped my chopsticks down on the table and picked up my phone hurriedly.
"Hi," I rushed out.
"Hey."
"Zayn, I'm so sorry for not answering you last night."
"What were you doing?"
I looked over at Nick then, my eyes widening, and he was shaking his head and mouthing 'no' at me. I bit down on my lip hard, afraid to give any answer to his question because both of my options were going to be bad.
So I just lied. "My phone died."
I'm going to hell.
"Oh?" he questioned. "Weird. You usually charge it fully before you leave to go anywhere and you hardly even use it, so that's surprising."
Fuck, he was right.
"Yeah...I, uh. Something's wrong with my battery, I guess."
Nick was face-palming, already embarrassed for me at how bad of a liar I was.
"Thought you might have been ignoring me on purpose or something," Zayn said.
"No, I wasn't. I wouldn't do that," I defended.
He coughed to clear his throat. "Alright then."
Silence.
"So...can I ask you something?"
I swallowed, my heart started racing. "Yeah."
"Can we please stop fighting? It's so exhausting," Zayn went on.
Relief. "Yes, yes of course."
"Look, I know that you're paranoid about Remi and everything but I really hope that you can find a way to accept him as a friend in my life."
I grunted internally at his request. I didn't want want to accept Remi, not even a little bit, but now I really had no room to talk given what I had done. "Yeah, I will."
"Thanks, baby."
I smiled hearing Zayn call me baby. "You're welcome."
"So...just a few more weeks left until the holidays and I was thinking...what if I came to London for a weekend to see you? Think your mum would let me stay there?"
My eyes lit up. "Really!? Yeah! She definitely will let you."
"Okay, cool. Can't wait to see you," Zayn replied, and my heart felt warm.
* * * * *
The guilt was going to eat me alive, I feared; but I had a plan. I knew that I had to somehow rectify the situation for myself, and the only way that I could think of doing that was by being extra amazing to Zayn, and I mean extra. So for that weekend that Zayn was coming to see me I had fully anticipated on being the best version of Harry that I could be.
I'd do anything to make him happy.
I laid in my bedroom back in my London home on a Thursday night in mid December, finally reading Zayn's copy of Norwegian Wood. My legs were curled up on my queen sized bed with my lime green comforter, lounging comfortably in black joggers and Zayn's grey t-shirt.
And it was the first time that I actually had a chance to read for any sort of fun since the semester ended, but I decided that I enjoyed reading now, something that I never thought I'd say. I felt smarter and it calmed my mind, which I needed.
I was also really excited because not only was I finished with all my classes, receiving no mark lower than 80%, but I was finally going to see Zayn in less than 24 hours. It had been nearly three whole months already since the last time we saw each other face to face, and I could hardly contain myself just thinking about being in his arms again.
What happened between me and Silas a month prior to then had now become merely bones inside my closet that I buried deep, but sometimes in the middle of the night I'd wake up in a state of panic and anxiety over it. The guilt that came with keeping it from Zayn continued weighing on me, stealing my sleep.
I just hoped it would go away, and had to continue to remind myself that Zayn said he didn't want to know, and what he didn't know couldn't possibly hurt him.
I wasn't expecting to hear a knock on my bedroom door next, which was unusual because my mum always addressed me or sometimes didn't even bother knocking first. Quirking a brow in slight confusion, I pulled myself out of my bed and shuffled towards the door, opening it slowly.
"Boo!" Zayn exclaimed quietly, a smile creeping up to his lips.
A surprised smile slowly formed. "Zayn! Shit, what are you doing here!? I thought you were coming up tomorrow," I said, my voice growing with elation.
"Couldn't wait till then. Your mum let me in," he replied as I opened the door to my bedroom.
I watched as Zayn crept inside and dropped his Gucci tote on the floor, looking around for a moment while he took everything in. My room had not changed much since I was like, fourteen years old. My bedroom was pretty small and the walls were a dull white color with band posters tacked up everywhere, mostly of The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, and that one time I met Ringo and he signed my Yellow Submarine picture, which I framed.
There was my mum's vintage record player stereo console, a tank of a thing, taking up most of the space next to my small television that sat on a dusty stand with all of my records just stacked up with no particular organization. And then I paused to realize that my piles of my dirty clothes were scattered everywhere like a total slob and I started to quickly bend down and pick them up, throwing each article of clothing into the corner by my closet door.
"I was gonna clean before you got here," I muttered. "Sorry this place is such a fucking mess, it's so embarrassing," I added, my cheeks turning a tint of red upon remembering how much lamer and poorer I was compared to Zayn.
But Zayn stopped me from touching another wrinkled t-shirt, reaching his hand out to grasp at my arm. I halted and stood up, finally scanning him up and down in his light washed ripped jeans and crimson red hooded leather jacket with my Rolling Stones t-shirt on underneath.
Zayn's arms situated themselves around my waist and he slowly pulled me into him, the butterflies awakening from their dormant sleep state now that I was in his aura again. His soft, brown eyes honed in on mine as a gentle smile formed.
"Harry, I don't care what your room looks like," he declared.
I smiled back at him, feeling his hold on my body strengthen. "Okay," I replied, falling right into his eyes again like always.
"I've missed you so much kitten," Zayn stated lowly as he started to gradually move closer down to my lips, which were already parting as I anticipated his kiss. "So, so much," he went on quietly, a dull whisper, as he gingerly closed the gap between our mouths.
There it was, in an instant. Sparks flying through my body as our lips pressed together in that same gentle force of motion and my knees quite literally buckled, giving out from the sudden influx of feelings after far too long, nearly stumbling into him. I heard Zayn chuckle lightly against my lips mid-kiss, holding my torso tighter to keep me from falling as he moved me backwards towards my bed.
His leather jacket was now off, docs following suit, his body crawling on top of mine as our appetizing kisses grew warmer and deeper, his tongue reaching in to stroke against mine with more urgency. My hands roamed up his tattooed arms now as he held himself above me, then moving to his shoulders and down his back, feeling Zayn's body everywhere as our mouths became wetter and hotter.
"Mm, missed you," I murmured as his lips left mine then, his hands lifting up my shirt next, removing it completely.
The touch of Zayn's finger tips invoked goose bumps to form on my bare torso, gliding across my butterfly tattoo and traveling upwards as they caressed the rest of my body, stopping at my chest; his favorite place to start. With a swirl of his thumb around my areola, he incited the bud of my pinkened nipple to rise almost immediately, flicking at it gently before repeating the same motion on the other nipple.
Right to the chase.
I whined airily as Zayn began twisting them both gingerly at the same time, my hands dipping into his lower back as I drew his body down even closer to mine, now gently bucking my hips into him with the subtle needy, desperation already a driving force right to my dick, which was now starting to firm up and lengthen with every passing second that he pleasured my nipples.
But I knew Zayn, and he would probably edge me like he always did, driving me fucking crazy until I begged for more. So I didn't thrust my groin up into his to create intense friction between us or claw at him like a wild animal the way that I wanted to, because I knew that Zayn took his time and pleasing him was my top priority.
I would never complain in a million years, though. Everything that Zayn did to me was so effortless, yet so incredibly detail oriented. Nobody could ever do it like he does.
So I just laid there trapped under the weight of his body as Zayn began lowering his pursed lips down onto my freshly erect nipple, where he lifted his wet tongue out and was now licking and sucking on me, my eyes rolling into the back of my head from the waves of pleasure. He moved between both nipples, giving them equal attention as my cock grew bigger beneath the fabric of my joggers, where I also didn't have any underwear on.
"God..." I muttered, moaning as he began tugging on my hardened nipples a bit harder now, my heart thudding with desire as he started to lightly rub his body against mine. "You're gonna torment me and make me beg aren't you," I drawled, my back arching as he sunk his mouth back down onto my chest, sucking on my nipple again until I whimpered.
I felt him smile against my skin. "You love it," he spoke softly.
"Yeah, yeah I do..." I breathed out.
Zayn then lifted his wet lips off of my chest and plunged them onto my neck, kissing me in the place beneath my ear where he always left an intentional territorial mark. My hands started naturally traveling down to grab his ass, two handfuls and squeezing him there, starting to feel like I was unable to contain myself. So I was now pulling his pelvis in closer to mine until the friction between our erections through our pants became stronger.
"Mm you been wanting me hm..." he drawled, bucking into me now.
"Yeah, uhn yeah...I always want you, I'm dying."
He smirked, kissing me again, his hands now in my curls, tugging on them gently. "Been thinking about this baby, yeah? Thinkin bout me and you...mm, am I in your dreams?"
"Uhn...a dream come true."
"Sweet boy of mine..." Zayn let out next, delivering sensual kisses up and down my neck, on my jawline, spread onto my cheeks and then to my lips, pausing there. "Trust me I'm gonna make it feel surreal."
"Mm," I purred, my heart rate rising from all of his affection.
"Feel me right now, feel my cock on top of yours...go on," he continued as he throbbed above me.
I groaned deeper with arousal. "Yes, please...fucking please," I begged as I felt Zayn's fingertips tuck under the waistband of my joggers, shimmying them down my thighs, exposing my hardening dick.
"Touch me kitten," he declared.
So I obeyed and reached down, quickly beginning to undo the button of his pants, his zipper, sliding his jeans down to his knees as his cock flopped down and smacked against mine. His tongue was back in my mouth in a second, hungrier and moving faster as he began dry rubbing against me at the same time.
Moans poured out of me as the streams of clear pre-cum dribbled out from our holes, creating some wetness between our cocks as we began panting into each other's mouths.
"Uhn..." I moaned again, forcing myself to catch a breath from our kissing as Zayn continued to rub on top of me. "Zaddy...uhn, you're making me soooo hard," I whined.
"Mhm just the way I like it," he nearly whispered.
"Let me do whatever you like," I insisted back in my small, needy voice.
"Yeah?" he thumbed over my bottom lip, kissing me sweetly there.
"Yes...yes just tell me what to do and I'll do it for you."
"How about you wrap those pretty pink lips of yours around my cock," he began, and I shuddered from the way that his voice consumed my whole soul.
"Then what do you want?"
"Give it a good suck baby, mm, get me nice and slippery with your tongue..."
"W-what happens after that?" I purred, my arousal intensifying rapidly.
"Then I'm gonna slide my cock inside of you, angel."
"Uhn..." I moaned, my dick throbbing as he kept rubbing his top of me. "Yeah, yeah...uhn, and how are you going to fuck me?"
"Raw...wet, deep," he answered lowly. "You'll stay in my arms, gonna hold you close to me, not stopping until that big and beautiful cock of yours comes for me..."
I was so hot and bothered, aching so badly. "Yeah, uhn Zayn...Zayn..."
"Then I'm gonna fuck you again later tonight, then again while you sleep," he continued, my hole starting to gape with excitement.
"Uhn..."
"Mhm, you're gonna feel me fucking into you in the middle of the night and you're gonna purr for me like a good boy..."
"Fuck."
"And in the morning you're gonna sit on my cock and wake your Zaddy up like that. That's what's gonna happen, okay kitten?" Zayn spoke into my ear, holding either side of my face, this thumbs gently rubbing against my jawline.
I trembled from the way he touched me. "Yeah, uhn...yes, I will do anything for you. Anything."
* * * * *
And I really meant that.
Zayn held me so close to him the whole time we had sex, spooning me, holding my leg up while he sank his cock into me, his balls slapping against my ass as his arm reached around and tugged on my nipples while he fucked me, kissing me everywhere, worshipping my body like it was a temple, jerking me off until I came everywhere, and he unloaded inside of me again, and I could tell that he was completely absorbed by the way his cum kept dripping out of my hole and down my thigh.
He treated me like I was the only thing that mattered, so sensual and romantic and endlessly affectionate, which made me melt into putty. And I was feeling softer than ever. It just made me want to be so good to him, to act extra sweet and emotionally attentive to his needs because I just wanted Zayn to know how much I cared about him, and how much he meant to me.
All of my doubts about me and Zayn seemed to fade away whenever he was there because the energy between us was just too strong, and it was impossible not to get swept up in it. And I was already on a mission that weekend that I would ensure that Zayn would have the best time ever with me.
He deserved it.
After we got cleaned up we went downstairs for a late night snack after Zayn mentioned to me that he was a bit high and naturally, had the munchies, which was just like him. So Zayn was following behind me down the stairs, now making our way into our rustic, colonial kitchen as my mum stood at the green marble counter top, reading a magazine with a cup of tea in her hand, her framed turtle shell reading glasses propped down onto the bridge of her nose.
I reached up and snatched two white bowls from the cupboard and opened the freezer door, beginning to scoop out vanilla ice cream into a bowl.
"Wait. Do you like vanilla? Or are you a chocolate person?"
"More of a chocolate guy but vanilla is fine. I'm cool with it," Zayn answered.
Shit, I had assumed what he wanted to eat and I didn't even ask his preference beforehand. "Are you sure? I can go buy chocolate ice cream for you," I tossed out. "Or anything else that you prefer. Just name it."
He shook his head. "No, it's okay. I want vanilla."
My mum now glanced up from her gossip columns, eyeing Zayn with a slight smile. "So how is everything going, love? How did you do in school this term?" she asked him.
"Brilliant," Zayn replied casually. "Was a bit of a challenge with my course load but I managed to smash it. Must be so proud of Harry's marks though, yeah? Worked his ass off, didn't you?"
I looked over my shoulder at Zayn and grinned proudly. My mum smiled, too, and it was so good to feel like I wasn't a complete disappointment for once.
"Oh I very much am. See Harry! Look at what you can accomplish when you give something the proper amount of attention," she noted.
"Yeah yeah," I returned humbly. "I'm surprised I did so well in Econ. That was rough."
I actually had Silas to thank for that, but I wasn't going to announce that fact out loud.
"So what about your art projects, Zayn? Do you ever put your work in shows or anything of the sort? With all that talent, people ought to see them," my mum went on.
"You sound like Natalia," Zayn responded, chuckling lightly. "I mean, I've won a few awards and stuff but nothing crazy. I just like to make art for me, not quite for the public's viewing and criticism and all that," he shrugged.
"You're just like your mum more and more every day," she spoke fondly.
Every time my mum brought Tricia up in conversation around Zayn he had this innocent, joyful looking expression resting in his eyes, something that only my mum could seem to invoke from him, and it made me happy every time I saw Zayn beam and marvel on her memory in only the way that he could with my mum.
"But eventually I will have to put together my final art portfolio, which will have to be based on a theme of some sort. Like an inspiration, a concept, something that my art speaks through or for. So I'll be working on that for awhile. Maybe I'll have a proper exhibit one day, who knows."
"Oh that would be lovely! Have any inspirations come to mind yet?" she questioned as I handed Zayn his bowl of ice cream, the three of us now hanging out in my kitchen making small talk.
It felt so natural for Zayn to be there in my house making casual conversation, just so comfortable and relaxed. I was really enjoying this feeling of him being around already, unable to keep myself from smiling to myself as I ate quietly and listened to their discussion.
"Erm, yeah. A few things maybe. Still deciding," Zayn answered before he took a bite. "How's Gemma doing with the pregnancy?"
"Oh she's alright, hanging in there. The hardest part is still yet to come," my mum replied, glancing over at me. "Did Harry tell you it's a girl?"
"He did tell me. Do they have a name yet?"
"I had offered up Harriet but Gemma wasn't a fan of my suggestion," I interjected, Zayn snorting with laughter under his breath at me.
"You know...I actually have some news to share as well," Zayn spoke then, my mum and I now exchanging curious glances.
"You're pregnant!?" I exclaimed cheekily.
"Yep, you got me. Miracle conception," Zayn joked back with a wry grin. "No but it's Adrienne and Marco, actually. She's pregnant as well. I just found out earlier today."
"Oh wow! That's wonderful," my mum returned.
"An engagement and a baby? Damn, they're busy," I commented, now shaking my head in amazement. "They fell in love, got engaged and pregnant in like, six months."
Zayn nodded, taking another bite of his vanilla ice cream. "Yeah, right? I guess when you know, you know," he said warmly.
And I smiled at Zayn, a true romantic at heart.
* * * * *
Just as Zayn said we would, he and I had sex so many fucking times that night that my thighs and ass were hurting me the next day, but Zayn seemed to be pretty pleased with himself by my slightly crippled limbs while I just took it like a champ, simply happy that he was there with me.
I'll admit that my plan on being extra kind to Zayn was in full swing. I was being very accommodating and thoughtful at all times, starting with asking him what he wanted for breakfast and when he mentioned he liked muffins I realized we had none, so I ran down to the corner store right away to grab the English muffins that he craved, even though he told me not to bother.
And Zayn and I went shopping in London later on because he mentioned how he always wanted one of those Slytherin scarves from Harry Potter, so I offered to buy it for him, even though Zayn told me that I didn't have to because we said no gifts. He commented on how he fancied this pair of aviators at one of the vintage shops, which I also tried to purchase and he turned that offer down, too.
He wasn't letting me cater to him like I wanted, but I kept trying.
So I took Zayn to the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology after he told me about how he read The Egyptian Book of the Dead once and thought their culture was fascinating, which he finally accepted and we held hands as we strolled through it together, like a proper date.
And when he and I got back home I even took the liberty of watching all of Zayn's favorite fantasy 80's films with him in bed that day, like Gremlins, Labyrinth and Beetlejuice, not even jokingly requesting a rom com like I normally did with him.
Zayn brought up in conversation during lunch with my mum, Gemma and Jeff that day that his favorite part of the holiday season was seeing the Christmas lights around, so I immediately took him out for a drive when night fell, just around London to look at some of the best displays in the city.
"It's alright, Harry. We don't have to drive around and see all the lights right now," Zayn said as he hopped into the passenger seat of my mum's white Jeep.
"No but you said you like lights so we are seeing lights," I responded without taking no for an answer, now starting up the car.
Zayn clicked on his seatbelt, looking over at me as I began driving down the street into the winter night. "You're being extremely kind to me this weekend."
"Well, I just want you to be happy," I replied sweetly, taking a left at the light.
"I appreciate it, but I'm happy just to be with you. I don't need all of this, you know."
"I know, but I want this to be a great weekend, the best ever."
He nodded in return, lighting up a spliff and leaning over to squeeze my thigh as we made our way around London. We then sped off to Seven Dials, where their festive woodland light display featured illuminations twinkling above the streets, a dazzling display of falling snowflakes with Santa's Grotto and elves.
"Are you hungry? Do you want to stop and get dinner somewhere?" I asked.
"Uh, yeah sure."
"What do you want?"
"Dunno, any Italian places?"
I chuckled. "Of course. Take your pick out of a hundred different choices."
"Wherever you want to go is fine with me, babe."
So Zayn and I ended up at The Trattoria, the best high-end Italian restaurant that I knew of in London, at least one you didn't need a reservation for. It was a quaint, but upscale place, with a dim and intimate ambiance and white candles were lit at the private, secluded tables.
"How posh," he commented wryly as he took a seat in the corner, eyes scanning the menu to observe some pretty steep prices.
"Is it too much? We can go somewhere else," I suggested, sitting across from him.
Zayn reached his hand out and placed it over mine with reassurance. "No, this is fine. Really, thank you for everything. But you aren't paying for this dinner, Harry."
"No it's okay, I can. I got my check the other day," I interjected.
"Let me take care of the bill," Zayn returned firmly.
I nodded, sort of thankful in the moment that he was insisting to pay because I was actually starting to run out of money. "Okay."
But I had gift certificates to the cinema that I hadn't use in years and then offered to take Zayn to a movie after dinner when he stopped me dead on the street. "Harry. We've had such a long, exciting day, but please stop spending all of your money on me."
"I have certificates," I replied, pulling them out of my pocket.
He stopped me again, holding my arm. "I don't need to see a film in the cinemas. We can watch a movie in bed and cuddle, your choice."
"Alright then. How about Iron Man then? Or maybe Star Wars...or The Dark Knight. No...I know. We can have a Harry Potter marathon. What do you think?"
He sighed. "I think you don't want to watch any of those. You want to watch The Holiday or Legally Blonde or Clueless, I know you do."
"No I don't," I lied.
"Yes you do," Zayn countered back. "Why are you making this all about me?" he continued, looking at me curiously.
"Because it is all about you, Zayn. That's how it should be. You deserve it."
What I didn't realize at the time while I was busy going overboard with my generosity, probably trying too hard to be perfect, that my sweet and thoughtful gestures were so overkill and far too out of character that it wasn't coming across to Zayn the way that I intended it to.
* * * * *
I didn't want Zayn to leave me yet and go back to Italy for Christmas, and I was already trying to find a way to see him again before we went back to school. I didn't have much money to cover the costs for a plane there and was hoping that Zayn would offer to fly me out there, but he didn't.
Instead he was packing up his things into his duffel, looking lost in thought.
"When can I see you again?" I asked, pouting.
He then looked over his shoulder at me, and I was not expecting this next question to come flying out of his mouth, but it did. "Did you hook up with Silas?"
All the blood left my body in an instant and my instinct was to lie because I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to know, and he said he didn't want to know.
"No."
His jaw was clenched as he spoke. "You just lied to my face."
I felt every fiber in my body start to ache, my mind racing. How did he know? He couldn't possibly know. I sat there on my bed, one leg crossed under the other and stared down in shame, my lips in a tight line as the nerves settled in.
"You did, didn't you?"
I took a deep breath and finally met his eyes. "Zayn...it was just one time. We didn't even have sex. It didn't even mean anything and we only..."
He cut me right off. "I fucking knew it. Is that why you were going out of your way this weekend? Were you feeling guilty about it?"
I felt like complete shit now. "No...I mean yes, but also no. I wanted to do those things for you, Zayn. You always did a ton of things for me last summer and I just..."
"Don't you take me for a fool."
I groaned. "I'm not. I didn't mean to, Zayn. I'm so fucking sorry."
Zayn didn't say anything to me for awhile as he kept packing his things in a much more aggressive fashion, but I could sense with his cold, icy silence that he was mad at me, just like I knew he would be. I didn't blame him. I deserved the silent treatment, but it still hurt.
"Zayn please...talk to me," I said quietly, finally breaking the stillness.
"Why should I?" he growled.
"It was a mistake! It'll never happen again! And you said you didn't want to know, so that's why I kept it from you!" I exclaimed.
"But I asked you just now and you lied. If I ask you, you don't fucking lie to me."
"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry," I pleaded, trying to fight back the tears in my eyes now.
"Tell me, was that the night that you didn't answer me? When your phone magically died?"
"Y-yes," I croaked out.
He scoffed. "And there you were bitching about how much you didn't trust me when it turns out that it's you I can't trust," he fired back harshly.
My bottom lip trembled. "I...I just thought you and Remi were...I saw the picture and..."
"Oh so you thought we were fucking. Thought you'd get back at me? Two wrongs don't make it right," he snarled.
"I was drunk, okay? It's not an excuse but it's true and I was weak and stupid and mad," I let out, now getting off the bed and I walked over to him, placing a hand on his bicep, but he shoved me off and said nothing.
I started to cry. "Zayn...Zayn please...I'm begging you to forgive me. I'll do whatever you want me to do, just give me a second chance."
He swallowed hard, turning away from me. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Please..."
Zayn didn't look at me once as he slipped on his leather jacket and slung his Gucci tote over his arm. He just stood there, staring at the wall like he was a shell of a person, like he didn't know what to do or say or what to think and if I were him, I would have been the same. Maybe even worse because he was stronger than me.
"So what now? Is this it? Are you done with me?" I questioned, dropping to my knees as I began crying into my hands like the most sad, and pathetic version of myself that I had ever been.
"I just need some time to think about everything," he said lowly as he walked out of my room.
I got up from the floor and ran after him into the hallway now, reaching out for his hand to hold and I began tugging on it, desperately holding on. "Zayn...please don't leave me like this," I cried out.
But Zayn didn't listen to me and yanked his hand back quickly, making his way down the stairs and out the front door. So I dropped down to the floor of the hallway upstairs where he left me, now crying a river full of tears. And all I felt in that moment was agony and self hatred, the type of suffering that I had inflicted upon myself, the kind of affliction that hurt in ways that I didn't even know existed.
My mum came running up the stairs soon afterward, hurrying to find me in a fetal position on the hallway rug and she bent down, rubbing at my back.
"Harry...Harry what's the matter? What just happened?"
But I was crying too hard that I couldn't even answer her.
Her voice was filled with worry. "What can I do for you?"
All I felt was pain everywhere and it hurt so bad, so fucking bad that I just wanted something to take the pain away. "Give me some morphine."