Harry
Taylor has left the living room and I'm sitting in the middle of a sea of roses, the card still pressed to my heart, thinking.
Some of the beautiful roses - my roses - I could still save from her. Lovingly I touch the flowers. At this moment I feel so close to Zayn, as if I was stroking his hair.
"You're the love of my life, Harry. Zayn"
I'm touched, really moved by his words. My love blossomed again in this moment and the anger against him is forgotten.
I' m sitting there for minutes without even thinking about Taylor for a second. I should do that because now she knows my secret. Of course she threw me out. She is kicking me out of my own house. I know now how Zayn must have felt when he split up with Gigi. But, what can I say.....I really don't mind.
Isn't that totally crazy? I'm not bothered. Most certainly I will later have a guilty conscience and blame myself. But at the moment I'm just happy.
Our story has taken an unexpected turn. Finally, I don't have to lie anymore. We don't have to hide anymore. Even Niall's reaction doesn't matter to me. Never before in my life have I felt so carefree.
There's just one thing I want - I want my Zayn back.
Zayn
By now it's late afternoon and Harry didn't call me. Gavin and I are sitting in the office preparing my exhibition, which will take place the day after tomorrow. We talk about the guest list and the catering and time goes by.
After the fifth cup of coffee and half a packet of Marlboro, I decide to go to the nearby park. I finally need to clear my mind again. The roses didn't bring me any luck. Instead I now have an overpriced bill in front of me. Nothing but expenses. But my mind is crowded with images, thoughts I do not understand, yet cannot purge. I suffer from headaches and my fingertips are massaging my temples. Whatever I'm doing, it's not helping right now. Off to the park, somewhere into the green.
"Gavin, l call it a day. I urgently need air, fresh air. In the park I get enough oxygen and that makes me feel better", I moan and put my head on the table to show him my hopeless situation.
"That's a good idea. Relax. You're always in the gallery all day and brooding. Better you are enjoying the lush green."
When he said green, his voice is getting lower and I long for Harry. He didn't want to allude to him. That was unintentional. Depressed, he is looking at me.
"Sorry."
"Hey, Gavin... it's okay. I'm still alive. We are artists. I can't stop painting with green paint now, wearing green clothes or eating green beans just because I associate the colour with Harry," I try to take his guilty conscience away from him.
Rossdale is well aware that he has hit a sore spot that I'm trying to cover up. He is silent.
You know, I always associate colors with people. Harry, as I said, is green to me, while I see myself black. Taylor is bordeaux - I hate this colour by the way and Gigi is yellow. Stupid, isn't it? I don't know what the colors really mean. I rely on my instinct.
While I'm thinking and still sitting in the office instead of being in the park, my colleague is watching me across his screen. Surprisingly, he left me alone all day long, asking no questions and making no fun of me. For lunch he brought me a sandwich that I had something to eat.
"Zayn?" he asks and looks up from the screen.
"Mmh, what is it?"
"Say, do you wanna go out for a drink with the boys and me tonight?"
Honestly, I'm not in the mood for anything right now. My head hurts, I'm in a bad mood and don't want to spoil the night for Gavin's nice friends. The guys are really cool and accepted me into their group without any problems. Tonight I would be rather bad company for them.
"Oh... don't be angry with me. Tonight I'm just going to bed," I answer him quite honestly, looking out the window longingly and still dreaming of the park. And what do I do instead? I'm still sitting in the office.
"Harry hasn't called, has he?" he's cautiously feeling his way towards the forbidden topic.
"Bingo," I hum. "Can we please talk about something else?", I say annoyed and shove a biscuit in my mouth.
"Listen, Zayn. Let's go out tonight. We could get completely drunk. A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. What do you think of it, Malik?"
"You don't give up, do you Gavin?", I laugh bitterly, munching on another biscuit.
The gallery owner stands up and is sitting on the edge of my table. "Zayn, this might sound stupid, I know. But sometimes life takes strange twists and turns. Maybe it wasn't meant to be. Harry is not the only handsome man on earth. You will see. Let's go out and who knows, maybe the love of your life will be running into you."
"Gavin, spare me! But I don't want anyone else right now. If it's not Hazza, then I'd rather stay alone. I don't want all this shit and I'm not looking for a new love," I hiss. "Besides, you shouldn't look for love, it'll find you."
Rossdale won't let my bad temper get to him.
"You're a real poet," he says with awe. "Love will find you...", he mimics me.
" I have different talents, if you haven't noticed that yet. "
"Undoubtedly," he giggles and I don't want to know what he is thinking right now.
"Seriously, Malik. Have you ever thought about starting a whole new life", he asks bluntly and is deadly serious.
I shake my head.
"It would have been a whole new life with Harry. But that's not going to happen. At the moment I'm not even thinking about my future. You see what happens at the end."
"No, that's not what I mean."
"What do you mean then?"
"Why don't you move to London and leave your home? What have you got to lose?"
"Hey, you're single, successful on the job and handsome. These are ideal conditions for the most beautiful city in Europe and for a new start."
I hastily blow the smoke out the window. "Don't get on my nerves with this nonsense. These new-fangled descriptions of people, like single, good-looking... are a pain in the ass, Gavin. They are meaningless. It's so superficial that it really disgusts me," I nag. Am I a happier person because I am young, successful and dynamic?
"Calm down, Zayn. What do you think about my suggestion in general? You could stay with me until you find your own apartment. I would be happy about a room-mate," he grins.
Rossdale's really serious. It's not just a figment of his imagination.
"Oh, no, my friend, I wouldn't dream of it. I would have to stand your sarcasm all day long! That's enough for me on the job. Besides, I don't know anybody in London."
"But you wouldn't be alone, you know me. Am I a nobody? By the way, I'm a fantastic cook."
"I like to be alone and I can cook if I have to."
"Sure. Malik, the all-rounder."
" Well, I really love the silence and I like to eat alone."
"And you're drowning in self-pity."
"Rossdale! Change of topic!
"So tonight at eight?"
"You're incorrigible."
"And a very good friend."
Harry
Only with a travel bag over my shoulders, I stand one hour later in front of Zayns apartment. I am incredibly excited and curious about his reaction when I just show up here. It's supposed to be a surprise, so I didn't call and thank him for the flowers. To celebrate the day, I bought a bottle of the best champagne to turn the night into day with my Zaynie. I want the hottest night with him. For too long we didn't lie in each other's arms.
Our dream still seems to come true. All's well that ends well? We could have been together long ago - it was my fault. I was too cowardly, too selfish to see how much he loves me and how deep my affection for him is.
Our common future is about to start.
My heart is pounding as I stand at his door. My hands are sweaty and my cheeks are probably bright red. Hesitantly my fingertips are touching the bell button. I don't dare to ring the bell. First I listen at the door. Maybe he is not alone. Well, excuses, nothing but excuses, because actually it's just the fear that he doesn't want me anymore.
Nonsense... why else would he have sent me roses?
Just when I have the courage to ring the bell, a very overweight woman waddles down the stairs. The old wooden stairs are creaking under her weight.
"You want to visit the painter?" she asks curiously and stops, her hands on her hips. She eyes me and I almost feel like a child.
"Uhm."
Before I can answer her, she leans against the banister and says:
"He's not at home. The apartment has been uninhabited for days. On Wednesday he drove away and had a suitcase with him. So I wouldn't bother if I were you."
What kind of way is that to talk to me? Am I hearing wrong? Do I have hallucinations?
"You must be mistaken. He'd never been away," I say quite firmly and don't believe in it myself. But as you know, hope springs eternal.
Suddenly my good mood is gone. I can't believe it. He is not at home? Out of town? With whom? Why and where?
"Young man. Now I'll tell you something. I' m never wrong. I have lived in this house for twenty-five years. I see who is coming, I also see who is leaving. And the painter," she points to the door with her sausage fingers, "left the house with a suitcase. If you don't believe me, ring the bell," she says maliciously and walks away.
Zayn
I didn't make it to the park, of course. Instead I took an Aspirin and spend the rest of the day in bed sleeping. It's just before eight and Gavin will pick me up any moment.
After a hot shower, I look forward to the night with the boys and slip into a black skinny jeans, a light grey shirt and put on my combat boots. One last look in the mirror, putting the leather jacket over my shoulders, I close the door and take the lift down.
In the hotel lobby Gavin was lolling on one of the sofas in the usual manner. When he sees me, he immediately jumps up and shows his perfect white teeth.
"Wow, Malik. Not bad."
What's he talking about? I don't have a clue.
"What do you mean by that, not bad?"
"You look... hot." He praises my appearance and looks at me from top to bottom.
"You are embarrassing me, Rossdale."
"As I told you the other day. You're lucky I'm not gay, otherwise you'd be mine tonight," he jokes, winking at me.
"Ahhh, Rossdale. Stop it. I hate those comments. We had talked about it. I'm not looking for love. Don't forget, we are in public. If you could please keep your voice down, I would be ever so grateful".
I don't want this attention.
"They'll all be at your feet tonight," he moans. "And then I have to protect you. How can someone look so incredibly good," he chuckles.
"Leave me alone with this shit. I' m in the mood for red wine and men's talks.
"I didn't even know you could be looking so hot. I like you much better without a suit and tie. Maybe you should always wear this masculine sexy look", he starts again with the subject and laughs.
"I should wear jeans at work?", I ask him, shaking my head. "Never. That is totally inappropriate, isn't it?
"Am I dressed inappropriately in your opinion just because I'm not wearing a suit?"
"Don't mix business and pleasure. You are a great gallery owner and you should dress like this. With your casual look you look inexperienced and...how can I say that.... It feels like you don't know anything about art. To get to the point. You look like an intern."
Now he's insulted. "An intern? Pfft...but a sexy intern."
"Don't take it so hard, Gavin - a very good-looking intern." I laugh and pinch his cheek.
"Your compliment doesn't make it any better, Malik."
We both have to laugh about it. We leave the lobby, strolling into the pub, which is only a few minutes away. On the way I notice that my phone is still lying on the sink. I briefly consider whether I should go back again, but then decide against it. What the hell. If Harry hasn't called yet, he won't do it anymore.
The pub is full of people, some music is playing in the background and we join his friends around a round table. The first drinks are ordered and I am looking forward to the night.
Harry
I rang the doorbell five times, but the door was never opened. The old dragon was right. I guess Zayn actually went away. Where the hell was he going?
I don't believe it! Today of all days. Annoyed, I take the bottle of champagne and walk down the stairs. And what do I do now? Anyway, I can't go home anymore, except to pick up my stuff. So I decide to go to the pub around the corner. Hopefully this Liam will be working tonight. Maybe he knows something about Zayn.
At the entrance I see Zayn's friend standing at the bar. A short glance is enough and the barman waves me towards him.
"Hey, Harry," he greets happily, but also somewhat surprised.
"Liam, hello."
He rests his elbows on the table.
"It's nice to see you. What brings you here, Curly? Are you meeting someone?"
I shake my head.
"Loneliness has brought me here. Will you please give me a beer?" I ask and sit on a empty bar stool directly in front of him.
The pretty boy nods and draws my beer. I watch every one of his movements with fascination. His facial expression clearly showed his surprise.
"Loneliness brings you to me? That's not exactly a compliment, or how may I understand that?"
I have to laugh at his remark. "Well, to be honest, I wanted to see Zayn, not you."
"You wanted to see Zayn," he says to me. "After all that happened? Well, you have got some balls.
Okay, wasn't expecting that reaction.
What's wrong with me wanting to see Zayn?
"What do you mean?"
"If I remember correctly, your last meeting was not exactly peaceful. You were pretty upset and angry," he explains to me.
"Yeah." I don't want to remember this evening. Drinking my beer, as if I could wash the night away with it.
"Have you ever talked about that?" Liam gives me a puppy eyes look and expects an answer.
I lower my eyes.
"You didn't talk," he states.
"No, everything got out of hand somehow," I reply quietly.
"And tonight you wanted to make the first move, I suppose?" He waits and stares.
"Oh Liam." I sigh and rest my head on my hand. "If only it were that simple. Zayn sent me a bunch of roses. Well, you do the math!"
"Wait, Zayn sent you roses? Home? Oh my goodness," he shouts and knocks a vodka back.
"Mmmh."
All excited, he's fidgeting behind the bar. "Come on, give me more details. Your story seems to be getting exciting," he giggles. "No, wait! Let me guess."
"Well, go ahead, Liam!" I forced a smile.
"Well, I assume your wife received the flowers. Am I right?"
"Exactly."
Liam enjoys the sad truth and puts two and two together.
"She thought the roses were for her and then came the bitter realization that she was on the wrong track."
"Exactly," I confirm.
"Huh." he rubbed his hands. "What a story. It's like a movie."
"Yeah, and the end of the story... Taylor kicked me out and I drown my frustrations in alcohol."
"Well, that was to be expected. And that's why you're crawling back to him now," he asks.
Hey, what is he thinking of me? I am crawling back, how that sounds. Another beer is standing in front of me and I almost drink it in one gulp. Liam is still staring at me and waiting for the progress of my report.
"I'm not crawling back. I just wanted to thank him personally for the flowers."
"And move in with him?" he says with an indignant expression. "I don't understand, honestly Harry. Why didn't you call him if you want to thank him?
I've had enough of this. Why does he always put words in my mouth that are not true? I don't want to move in with him because Taylor kicked me out.
"What's your point, Liam?"
He clears his throat:
"Well, Harry. This is what it looks like from my perspective: You were jealous. You couldn't bear to see him flirting with the woman, so you broke up with him. You were pissed, but you seem to have forgotten, you came with your wife while he came alone. To use it against Zayn is pathetic. Come on, what's the big deal?"
I'm looking at him, pretty surprised.
Liam continues his theory:
"Never mind. After this drama he travelled to London, sent you flowers to apologize and caused a catastrophe in your house. With the result that your marriage is now ruined and you don't know where to live. Well, there it is quite conclusive that you show up in his apartment. You need a place to stay, don't you? So why not live with Zayn." The words literally tumble out of him.
Speechless, I sit on the uncomfortable bar stool and can't believe it. Liam has such a bad impression of me? That's impossible...he can't think that badly of me.
"You have no idea. Liam, what nonsense are you talking about?", I press out. "Man, I love Zayn Malik, do you understand? I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. I was just too stupid to admit to myself that I can't live without him. Thought I had to keep my marriage going, to be a good person. I simply lacked the courage. I'm not as strong as he is," I rant.
The bartender finally smiles again, while I squirm in self-doubt. Liam then takes my hand and says:
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear from you."
Now I don't understand anything any more. At first he accuses me of using Zayn and in the end he wanted to hear that I am madly in love with the painter? But one thing is even more important. He mentioned in passing that Zayn went to London?
"Liam, what did you mean by Zayn being in London?", I want to know now.
He is scratching the back of his head.
" Zayn called me the other night. He was quite drunk and was crying his eyes out, what a bad guy he was and that he didn't deserve you at all...Well and so on. Anyway, he needs some space and time and is glad that he has to go to London for a few days because he is working there for some famous gallery."
"The Tate Gallery of London!" , I scream.
"Yeah, I think so."
"Liam, when's the exhibition opening?"
"The day after tomorrow, I think. But I'm not sure."
"Then I still have time," I mumble to myself.
"Harry, you don't want to...", he smiles and gives me a pat on the back of the head.
"Oh yes. I'll go to him."