(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.)
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***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND IS NO LONGER CENSORED***
"I don't ever ask you, where you've been...cause I don't feel the need to know who you're with. And I can't even think straight, but I can tell...that you were just with her..."
Harry | Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart
It was two in the afternoon when Gemma came in to wake me. I could barely see her, even though she stood right in front of me. She was more of a shadowy silhouette, back-lit by the light beaming in from the balcony. I shut my eyes again since my head was pounding and put a pillow over my head. I had hardly managed to crawl back into bed after rushing to the toilet, and somehow still pissed myself despite laying in the bathroom for half an hour. I had a vague memory of peeling my clothes off and dumping them in the shower and turning it on.
I told her I'd meet her downstairs in an hour so we could get out for a bit, and hurried to the shower to find my jeans, shirt, and underwear in a sodden heap where I'd left them. I wrung them out as best I could and sent them away to the hotel laundry, then checked my phone.
Social media was never as quiet as it was today. I saw a few stupid things that made me abandon twitter like the shipwreck it was. After a similar experience with IG, I mimed throwing my phone against the wall for no reason other than my own sick gratification.
As I grew older, I was starting to feel a noticeable change in how happy I was whenever I avoided social media. It was healthier for me in the long-term, and I began to implement these little "breaks" more and more often, (to the annoyance of our team).
Now I decided this trip was the best time to practice that theory, so I deleted the app, hoping to avoid it with all the other bullsh-t that was going on at the moment. A friend of mine once compared social networks to a house party you'd been invited to where there were a few good people whose company you'd enjoyed, but there were far more people present who just really weren't that great. Considering it that way, nothing would convince me to attend that party, so why on earth did I bother at all?
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The sky-train whisked us around the city in no time, spoiling us with decent views of the rural and urban quarters of the city, and taking us from market to market to do a lot of shopping and taste-testing. I imagined how nice everything would look at night—the buildings lit up like Christmas or the countryside illuminated by the moon.
When we got to a busy mall, despite my hat and glasses, I was nearly mobbed and we had to make a run for it, barely getting away in a tuk tuk driven by a short bald man who had no idea why we were being chased. He deposited us at a quiet park where we chilled at a fountain and ate Thai snacks, before Gemma decided she wanted to see the Palace.
"And get mobbed again?" I grumbled.
"No one'll care about you there. They'll all be in awe of the architecture."
"I want egg noodles." Cal said, popping his shoes off and flexing his toes.
"Ugh, I just want food." I added.
"Ok, how about we take some of this stuff back to the hotel, regroup, and then we'll all head out for food?"
"Sounds good to me."
When we got back to the hotel by taxi, I ran into Niall in the lobby and we chatted about what we did last night. He'd stayed up and did a little writing and had an early morning workout. That made me feel like sh-t because I had drank all night and slept all morning. After making plans with him for later, I made a quick trip back to my room and read a text from Z.
Z: "Hey."
"Hey." I replied.
Z: "Where are you?"
"I'm here. The hotel." I said.
Z""Can I see you?" I took a breath. Gemma knocked and was the perfect excuse to tell him no.
"Actually, mate, I'm heading back out. Maybe later?" He sent a thumbs up emoji and I knew he was annoyed. Especially considering I didn't bother to reach out that night either. I just needed a break from uz and how volatile things had become, before we damaged whatever we had left beyond repair.
A few days later, on our last night in Thailand, all the boys and I got together with the crew and had drinks. I left the club after a toast and headed back to Smalls for a third time. Joe wasn't there, which was good because I wasn't sure I could face him after letting my walls down and rambling like I did that night, but I chatted with a few locals and got to know David (the owner) a little better. The next morning, we flew out to Hong Kong and news dropped that Z had been photographed holding hands with a girl in Thailand.
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"And I'd still be a fool, cause baby I'm a fool for you..."
Harry |Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart
WARNING: LIGHT-WEIGHT "MATURE" SCENE IN THIS SECTION!
"Did you sleep with her?" was the first thing I texted him when we landed in China. We hadn't spoken a word since the 15th so my text must've come as a surprise. He responded right away.
Z: "You know I didn't."
"I don't know anything."
Z: "Babe, c'mon. Don't start." I left him hanging for a few minutes, before heading straight to his room unannounced. After beating on his door without relent, Jawaad answered and looked freaked out.
"You good, bruh?" he asked.
"Where's Z?"
"Right here." Zayn said, appearing behind Jawaad, chin raised in a quiet challenge. "Give us a minute, bro." he said. Jawaad nodded and looked me up and down before starting down the hall to his own room. Z stepped back as I entered; right away I smelled weed and a burning cigarette.
"You're not supposed to smoke in here." I muttered. "They'll charge the room."
"Youh work for the hotel or somethin'?" he quipped, butting the cigarette and sitting on the edge of the bed; hands in his pants pockets. "Youh mad at me or somethin'?"
"What'd you do last night."
"Nothin' just had a few drinks. Y'know...with Lou and the bois." I stood in front of him and he was already staring at my hips, so I squatted down. We locked eyes and he nearly smiled, until he saw how serious I was.
"It was a long one, yeah?" He said wearily.
"Maybe for you." I replied. He grabbed both sides of my face and eyed me sleepily, murmuring,
"Can I take your clothes off?"
"No. Not after last night." I moved away before I fell prey to everything he was at the moment: Hair tousled, feet bare, sweats and an old t-shirt. My t-shirt. Vintage Pink Floyd. He always stole my sh-t and wore like he owned it, which I usually found adorable, but right now it just pissed me off. I wondered if he had put it on while he was with her, or immediately after. Feeling outdone, I backed against the door and rested my head against it.
"Y'know...it's not even that you hooked up with her that bothers me. It's that you haven't even bothered to reach out in days, then hooked up with her. Mate...f—k her and f—k you. Who even is she?"
"No one, Haz. And we didn't even hookup. I hung with her a bit because youh were still pissed at me, remember?" He raised his hands. "I was tired of being alone, to be honest."
"I wasn't pissed for three days straight, Zayn. You should have reached out."
"I reached out earlier didn't I? And youh came barging in, still pissed. Being rude to me family."
"It's Jawaad. He's practically one of us."
"Doesn't matter." He crossed his legs up beneath him on the edge of the mattress, fiddling with his thumbnail. After some time he said: "I didn't sleep with her, alright?"
"You looked like you wanted to. How can I know you didn't?"
"Because I'm telling youh, Harry."
"Not good enough."
"Soh that's it, then? Youh just don't trust me anymore?" That made my stomach knot. I wanted us to be good again. Things were too weird and tense lately.
"Not lately."
"You're f--king nuts, youh know that?"
"Yeah you keep telling me that."
"Because youh are." he derided. "I'm sittin' here, tellin' youh exactly what happened, and you're just soh fucking caught up in making sh-t up in your head, you're not even listening!" At that, I didn't respond. He rubbed his hands up and down his face, growling in frustration. I straightened up and nearly walked out, but lingered a while longer.
"Z..."
"Hm?"
"You know...you know I'm not even like that. I try not to make demands on you, like ever. And you know I never ask where you've been. And I never feel the need to know who you're with...but this one hurt." I said quietly. "I thought you'd come after me, and I waited for days, but you didn't."
"I can't read youh anymore, Harreh. One minute you're up, one minute you're down. One minute youh want to talk, the next minute youh won't listen to anythin' I'm sayin'. What do youh want from me? Huh? Some days youh want to mess around on stage, some days youh act like youh don't even know me—"
"Ever notice it's whenever you've been with HER? I can't be around you afterwards. It f—ks with my head." He looked worried.
"Youh never tell me this stuff." he replied softly.
"Why? And make myself look like an even bigger b----h than I already do? I'm not trying to be anyone's b----h, Zayn. I'm too good for that."
"Yeah, youh are." He conceded, laying back across the bed. "C'mere, will you?"
"No, I'm good here."
"Please, babe..." There was promise in his voice. Capitulation even, so I approached. He sat up in a split second, yanking me to him and wrapping his arms around my waist. I felt him breathe into my belly, unable to resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair. It was feathery and soft, like he'd just showered and didn't use product. Soon he lay back and pulled me down on top of him, and I rested my head on his chest, inhaling soap and old spice deodorant.
"M'sorry, baby..." he whispered, so quietly I could barely hear it. "I'm tired of fightin'. I just want youh. I miss youh so bad. Youh hear me?" He kissed my hair, his hands glided slowly up and down my back, making my stomach knot with anticipation. I felt every ounce of tension leave my body. I melted into him, falling to pieces in his arms like always. F—k I was weak. I was so f—king weak.
My submission was his consent to venture farther. Farther than we had in weeks. He grabbed two handfuls of my ass in a way that let me know he was ready for anything. He slid a hand beneath my waistband, trying to get at my bare flesh, slipping a few fingers between my cheeks and caressing my warmth. His fingers dove deeper—just short of slipping inside of me—and I whimpered into his chest.
It was like everything was normal. Like we hadn't fought at all, and like I was just falling asleep with him as usual. I tilted my head up, knowing he was holding out, waiting for me to yield completely. He wanted me powerless, desperate. He kneaded every part of me he could reach, my hips, my ass, my thighs, tugging at my clothes in impatience. I gave in and sought his lips; his mouth parting for me without question.
It had been too long since we'd been like this. Japan seemed like forever ago. His breath was warm, intoxicating, and I could taste remnants of the cigarette. His tongue slipped into my mouth and teased mine unhurriedly, drunkenly.
The room was quiet. All I could hear was the sound of our tongues and toiled breathing. He flipped me over, climbing atop without breaking the kiss. I couldn't catch my breath, but didn't want to anyway. Something about the deprivation made me lightheaded and giddy.
We broke momentarily as he pressed his lips to my throat, savoring me in slow, measured kisses; one lungful at a time. Then his hands were in my hair, entangled deeply, scratching at my scalp—pulling until I rasped in anguish. He kissed me then, enjoying my discomfort; devouring my gasps and groaning when I snaked my hand up his shirt to scratch his back.
"F--k I need you..." he rasped. "Baby...I need you so bad. Harry..." I couldn't form words to reply, but tossed my head back hoping he kissed my neck again. When he did, he bit me harder than he ever had before. I winced and trembled in pain, anxious for more, enjoying the caress of his beard.
He took both my arms and pinned them above my head, looking me in the eye strangely. I could never tell what he would do next, so I faltered, licking my lips. With his free hand, he unbuckled my belt and slid it from my waist in one motion.
"Hey..." I breathed, a little embarrassed he had gone so long without touching me. It's like he wanted to see how easily I could break. How easily he could bend me to his will. I knew he relished the power he had over me in moments like this, but even that wasn't enough for him. He wanted me to be aware of the power he had over me as well. It had taken him mere moments to get me from being furious to writhing beneath him, dying to be used.
"Z..." I said firmly, and only then did he free my hands to unfasten my pants. He dipped and pulled my zipper down notch by notch, watching me watch him. I bucked my hips, hoping he'd hurry. I was already straining against my zipper, pulsating for release. Desperate to surrounded by him; his hand, his mouth, his ass—anything.
Finally, he lifted my shirt and hooked his fingers in my waistband, pulling my pants and briefs down just enough to reveal the tattoos along my hips and the tops of my pubes. He was torturing me. I shot a self-conscious hand there to cover my hair, because I hadn't shaved in a while, but he pulled it away. He watched me weakly, eyes half-lidded, slowly kissing the flesh of my lower belly, down into my hips. It had never felt more sensitive. His pillowy lips made a feathery trek from one hip to the other, nuzzling my bush along the way.
I shoved my pants lower, but suddenly something bubbled up within me, giving me a pit in my stomach. I thought back to the pic of him holding her hand and wondered what had possessed him if he had no intentions of sleeping with her. That's when I realized I'd been lied to. I was an imbecile for believing it.
I recalled the times he had held my hand and coaxed me back to his room where he obsessed over my body and fucked me for hours. How he'd make an excuse to get close at first, like watching a movie in bed or taking a nap. Or how'd he ask if I wanted to shower, but would only let me wash for a few minutes before urging me back to the bed again.
I imagined him doing it all with her that night and thought again of how eager she must've felt holding his hand. The promise that hand-hold meant for her felt devastating to me. It indicated more to come the second they were alone.
I shoved him off. He rolled onto the other side of the bed, baffled.
"What happened?" he mumbled, wiping his mouth.
"Nothing..." I was shaking. "I'm just tired."
"Tired?" I nodded and slid my pants back up my hips. He reached to touch me, but I recoiled.
"Youh okay?" He looked livid, but wanted to avoid upsetting me.
"Yeah...I'm sorry. I'm just tired. I'm gonna try to sleep before the show. I'm sorry."
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