Harry
My talk with Zayn broke down so miserably that we didn't see each other again. There was no phone call or message between us afterwards. He simply didn't understand that I can't give up everything - not even for him. For Zayn I' m a liar and a coward. Zayn was very disappointed and didn't say a word about us or talk to me. I know it is the end of our relationship without saying it. We both live our own lives. Well, I'm going to miss him.
Every night I cry myself to sleep and try to hide my tears from Taylor. My whole body is numb with longing, my head is hurting with memories and I think about how I will survive all this. The days are very long and lonely without him. Again and again I look up to his studio in vain and know that nobody will stand at the window. Life in the country has become a nightmare. The loneliness and the silence are eating me up. I cannot forget Zayn.
Last weekend was a complete disaster. When Gigi came back from her journey, there was a violent row at the Malik house. Zayn actually made it happen. He broke up with his wife - with all the consequences. The blonde raged in indignation, howled for hours out of desperation and threw things at him. All the neighbours were able to see the spectacle, it was so loud. It was horrible. Nobody could do anything about it. Taylor was inclined to intervene in it, but I was able to stop her. It's Zayn's decision and I respect that. The Pakistani man put up with all this and stayed calm. Yesterday a removal van arrived and picked up some furniture... there was no trace of Zayn. He didn't show up. Gigi, on the other hand, went to her family and will probably stay there for a while.
Zayn
My work keeps me busy. I have so much to do that I hardly have a breather. That's a good thing. I've been officially living in my apartment for a week now - without having to hide it. The meeting with Gigi did not go any differently than expected. We broke up. My wife was possessed by the devil. She screamed, she cried, she threw plates and cups at me and I couldn't even be mad at her. I deserved it that way. That Harry was the reason for all this, I didn't mention. It doesn't matter now either, because it's over. Harry was just the trigger.
Some new clients have contacted me. This is exactly what I need at the moment - a new goal. There is an exhibition of my portraits in London and a big publishing house wants me to design the entrance hall. When the word "publishing house" came up, I had to think first. Maybe Harry works for it. But since he is writing exclusively at home, there is hardly any risk of running into each other by chance. I will discuss the details on the spot today.
A little nervous, I'm plucking at my tie. It's late summer, temperatures don't drop below twenty-five degrees during the day and I have to go to town in my dark suit. I already feel so hot that I want to rip all my clothes off my body.
A good ten minutes early, I enter the huge building. People are streaming in and out and make me really nervous. A young woman with a blond ponytail stands at the reception and smiles.
"How can I help you, sir?"
"Oh." I say in surprise. "Malik, Zayn Malik is my name. I have a ten o'clock appointment with Mr. Horan."
She looks in her computer, looks for my appointment and still smiles. Her false smile pisses me off. Nobody can just walk around happily all day. The permanent grin is chiselled in her face.
"Please take the lift up to the seventh floor. Mr. Horan is already waiting for you," she says, smiling further.
As I enter the long, bright hallway of the seventh floor, a young man with glasses runs across my path. We could be the same age.
"Zayn Malik," he shouts and runs towards me. "The great artist himself," he snorts.
It would be a lie if I didn't feel flattered. Of course I' m happy about my popularity, so I grin at him and shake this guy's hand.
"My name is Horan."
"Oh, you mean we both have this business meeting?" I say in surprise.
"That's right. But let's go to my office," he invites me and points to a door.
Something is wrong. Why does he look at me so strangely? I have never seen him before. Weird.
"Well, Mr. Malik. I am a great admirer of your art. By the way, the vernissage was great," he begins the conversation.
"Are you interested in my paintings?
He nods eagerly. " Not without good reason did I choose you as a painter. Your portraits were simply stunning. The expressiveness of the colours ..."
His eyes are literally sparkling with passion. This Horan really seems to know something about art.
"Well, as I already mentioned on the phone, Mr. Malik, our publishing house would be eternally grateful if you could brighten up the entrance hall with your paintings. We know it won't be very cheap, but your work is worth every penny to us. It would be a great honour for us, so to speak, if you would agree to our offer. What do you think?"
"What can I say. I'm also honored, Mr. Horan, and I hope I do justice to your requirements. It's a pretty huge project, you know."
"Malik, an artist of international standing is afraid of a major contract? Please, don't worry," he replies. "Let's just take a closer look at the location, shall we?"
The business meeting went quite to my satisfaction and at the end we even chatted about my last exhibition that this young man actually visited. The expectations of me are high, I love that. The pay is also good. After a short tour we both agree and I sign the contract in his office.
Just as I'm about to leave, he's serving me a glass of champagne.
"Let's drink to our collaboration, Mr. Malik, and to art," he shouts and our glasses clink together.
There is a knock at the door.
"Oh, who's bothering us?" says the publisher a little angry. "Please come in."
The door opens and a young man comes in the room. I can only see him from the corner of my eye and prefer to look out of the window. But when I hear his voice.....It gives me the blood in the veins freeze!
" Sorry about that. I didn't know, Niall, that you have a visitor," I hear him say.
"Come on in, Harry. I don't have to introduce you to each other anymore," Mr. Horan answers sarcastically and laughs maliciously.
Slowly, I turn to the two of them. There he stands in front of me again after one week. Harry Styles, the curls as thick and curly as ever, with a horrified expression and flushed red cheeks.
"As I said before. We don't have to get to know each other, I'm already know about it," Horan grumbles and fumbles around with his glasses. He feels our conversation is disturbed.
Hastily I put my glass on the table and want to disappear as fast as possible. Our eyes meet and Harry doesn't look away. Quite the opposite. I see the longing in his eyes, see the thousand words he still has to say to me.
"Zayn." he stutters and I don't say a word.
"Mr. Malik." begins the blonde publisher. "I know the story because I got the video footage from Mrs. Styles. So you don't have to be embarrassed. I still want our cooperation. What do you think?"
That's what I call keeping work and private life separate. Silently I nod to him, unable to say anything at all. Today of all days I meet Harry in Horan's office. Was that all planned? Can it just be a coincidence?
"I have to go. I am sorry," I stammer and reach for my documents, which are still scattered on the table. "We'll discuss the details later, alright, Mr. Horan. It was a pleasure to meet you."
The whole body is shaking as I walk out into the hallway. The feeling of anxiety came back. I feel sick and beads of sweat are on my forehead. In the men's restroom I stand in front of the sink, undo my tie, unbutton my shirt. It's suffocating in here. My reflection horrifies me. For minutes I splash ice-cold water over my face and wrists and don't have the feeling that things are getting better.....and then I collapse.
It must be late afternoon when I wake up. Birds are singing and cooler air surrounds me. Where am I? My eyes wander around and I breathe a sigh of relief. I' m at home. But I had an appointment in town, didn't I? How did I get back? I hear sounds from the kitchen. Who brought me here and who is in my apartment?
When I try to get up, my legs give way. My body is too weak and I start sweating again. Slowly I take off my black shirt and the rest of my clothes. Only in my underpants I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. Am I sick?
I could hear the sound of tramping feet across the wooden floor.
Hidden behind a huge tray, a person enters the room.
"Are you finally awake," this person says in a hoarse voice and puts the tray on the nightstand.
Harry.
Some curls are falling over his face as he lays his big hand on my forehead and bends down to me.
"Well, you have no temperature." he says and the emerald green eyes look pitifully.
"What are you doing here?" I spit and want him to get away quite quickly.
"Your kindness is boundless, Malik. You're getting back to yourself again."
With a spoon he waves around in front of my face and is trying to feed me. From time to time he blows on the hot liquid so that I don't burn my tongue. What is this stupid caring all of a sudden?
"Eat the soup, Zayn. You have to restore your strength," he warns.
"I don't want to. I'm not hungry," I whine like a three years old child and turn my head to the side.
"Don't be silly. At least taste it." The spoon is still in front of me.
"No."
"Malik, I warn you. For hours I was standing in the kitchen cooking this delicious soup for you. You will try it now," he complains to me and grins at the same time.
"No, I don't want to eat anything. I didn't ask you to cook for me either. So take your soup and eat it by yourself."
Harry puts everything aside and his hands are right next to my body. He watches me very closely.
"What?" I say. "Why you giving me that look?"
Without even answering he lowers his head and kisses my chest. "I have missed this, Malik," he whispers without letting go of me.
"Hey, don't do that." I whisper and enjoy his touches. Too much time has passed in which I have longed for him. "Harreehh."
"Mmmhhhh".
Meanwhile every part of my upper body has been kissed. "I missed you, Zee," he whispers and gently presses his lips onto my mouth. His words echoing in my head and are like medicine.
"I missed you too," I quietly admit.
"What? Say that again."
I shake my head. That was already too big an admission.
"Malik!" whispers the curly head. "Just say it again," he asks gently and nibbles at my ear while his fingers have already reached my lower abdomen. "Mmhhhh, say it that you missed me."
Actions speaks louder than words! I missed Harry. I missed him so much that I can't put it into words. I impatiently fiddle with his clothes and almost rip them off his body. Harry chuckles with excitement and clings on to me. I ruffle his hair affectionately and I feel the tension gradually floating away.
This man is incredible. The author is a feast for the eyes, and he makes me lose my mind. Under his clothes he hides the hottest body in town.
"Why are we doing this?" it slips out of my mouth.
"Huh... what do you mean by that?" Harry mumbles under my kiss.
"Why do we end up in bed every time?" I repeat the question while my mouth is kissing its groins and leaving small love bites.
Harry tries to answer while moaning.
"..cause we love each other", he gasps. "Oh God, Zayn..." he says and closes his eyes as my lips touch his sensitive part. "Don't stop, I'm warning you. Keep going, Zee."
No, I'm not stopping.
After having had sex for two hours in every possible position, we lie exhausted in the pillows and do not speak a word for a while. We made up for lost time.
Then Harry suddenly breaks the great silence.
"Are you going to accept Niall's offer?"
"Should I rather refuse it?"
Harry straightens up and presses a kiss on the tip of my nose. "No way, you should definitely accept it."
He smiles and looks happy.
"Hazza." I say sheepishly. "Why are you doing this?"
"What do you mean? Why do I what?"
I don't know how to explain it to him.
"Why do you keep coming back to me," I get straight to the point. "I mean, I' m not exactly the perfect man. With me you have more sorrow than joy. I' m more moody than happy. I' m selfish instead of kind. So why are you doing this to yourself?"
"Mmhh, let me think," he replied thoughtfully and put his index finger on his chin. "You are smart, handsome, successful, hot and incredibly good in bed. Are these enough reasons why I always come back?"
"Are you making fun of me or what? I mean it completely seriously," I try to explain to him and am extremely disappointed about his reaction. It's not a game anymore - at least not for me; I've already gone too far for that.
"Zee, what do you want to hear?"
"The truth, Harry."
My throat is dry and my heart is pounding like crazy. In my experience, people don't like to be told the truth.
"Well, the truth is...I love you and I miss you...more and more every day," he whispers. "But the truth is also that I can't break up...with Taylor."
Harry notices my painful look. "It doesn't work, Zayn. I' m so sorry. My job depend on it."
Nothing's changed. He sticks with it. Was I expecting something different? Sex doesn't change the fact that I will never have him for myself. It will all stay that way. It is just a love affair.
"It's all right, Haz. At least you're honest," I reply dryly and climb out of bed.
"Zee, come back," he whimpers and reluctantly I go to him again. His arms embrace me and push me against his body. Harry is crying, he is crying silently and tears are running down his cheeks.
"Sshh, Harry. Please, don't cry."
"I love you endlessly and I would love to stay here forever - believe me Zayn. I don't want to be without you for a second, but I can't, I just can't," he sobs.
With my thumb I dry his cheeks and could even burst into tears. It breaks my heart to see him like that. It breaks my heart because our situation is so hopeless.
Ben Winston
It's finally time. I have read all his manuscripts and made some notes. Now I can meet him. A little overenthusiastic I dial his number. The pulse races and I feel like a teenager in love.
"Hello?"
"Oh, hello. This is Ben Winston, your editor."
"Mr. Winston, what's up?" he says through the line.
Well, he's not exactly pleased with my call. In the background I hear another male voice. He's probably out with a friend.
"Is this a bad time?" I want to know, and I hope he doesn't hang up.
"No, not at all," he replies and I hear him giggling in the background.
"Can we meet tomorrow? We need to talk about your novel. The publication is getting closer and closer and there's still a lot of work that needs to be done." I get to the point and wonder who he is with right now and what they are up to.
"Okay. How about ten o'clock?" he asks and waits.
"That's absolutely perfect."
"And where shall we meet, Mr. Winston?"
Awesome, his voice. "Mr. Winston." My name suddenly sounds like music to my ears. He speaks so hoarse and sensual. I literally melt on the phone and imagine this "Mr.Styles" in bed when he bends over me gently and whispers my name. Harry Styles, you're driving me crazy and tomorrow we'll finally see each other and I can adore you without anyone bothering us or giggling in the background.
"How about ten o'clock in my office?"
"Sounds good."
"And then I'll invite you to lunch," I dare the next step.
"That is not necessary. I don't want to waste your precious time."
What's he saying? He doesn't want to waste my time? If you knew Styles, how happy you make me with your mere presence! A lunch with you is like a prize of a million, like a flight to the moon. I'll sweep the stardust for you.
"Oh, come on Styles. A rejection already on the first phone call? That's not nice. Please, don't turn me down," I play the indignant one and am already flirting.
"All right, we'll have lunch together. Goodbye and see you tomorrow at ten," he laughs and hangs up.
"Yessss", I cheer and dance through the office. Tomorrow is a wonderful day!