*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
They say that a guilty conscience never feels secure. It's like your mind refuses to let go of the bondage your own guilt holds you in, always popping up to remind you just when you think you've finally forgotten. I guess the only bright side to a guilty conscience is that at least I know I have one, because for a long time I wasn't sure if I did.
I didn't think I'd feel this way after talking to Zayn, but the guilt I feel is immense. I'm not even sure what's causing it besides the fact that I wasn't able to help him in the way that I thought I would. I don't even know if he's going to stay or not, and that's what scares me the most. He seemed so adamant on this being his last tour, so when it ends in October, I'm not sure what the fate of One Direction will be.
But I think my real guilt comes from what happened with Louis. I know there's no reason to feel this way, because Louis isn't upset with me... I think, but somehow the guilt is still managing to keep me in a choke hold. The look on his face when Zayn chose me over him is something I can't get out of my head, so as soon as Zayn abandoned me, I went on the hunt for Louis, quick to find him sitting alone in another dressing.
Music has always been my therapy, and the same obviously goes for Louis. When I find him, he's laying on his back with legs thrown over the leg of the couch, headphones in his ears and a journal in one hand with a pen in the other. He's furiously scratching out something he's written and muttering under his breath.
Where I listen to music when I'm fed up with my life and my feelings become too much, he writes it, always articulating beautifully exactly what he's feeling.
This is Louis. There's no cameras with flashing lights and no screaming fans that bring out the best sides of him. There's only a saddened boy left to drown in his feelings with the company of his favorite music and the powerful lyrics in his oversized heart. Even though Tommo lets his anger sometimes best him, it all comes from a good place in order to protect the ones he loves, and he obviously feels like he failed at that with Zayn.
I take in a deep breath as I try to mentally unleash my feelings to hopefully communicate them with Louis easier. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, throwing his journal and pen across the room and ripping the earbuds from his ears. His bright blue eyes, darkened by anger, lock with mine when he sits up.
All of the fury disappears from his being, but I can tell some resentment is still held within him. At the sight of Lou, my heart sinks, everything I planned to say instantly disappearing from my brain like it was never there in the first place.
"Hi," I finally work up the courage to say in a shy tone, rocking back and forth nervously on my white sneaker covered heels.
"Hi," he mutters back, running his hands roughly over his tired face. He looks like he doesn't want to talk which almost gives me the excuse I desperately wanted to not have to face the boy- the man, with the messy brown hair and striking blue eyes, but I force myself to stay.
"Do you mind if I sit?" I motion to the empty space next to him, biting into my bottom lip while trying to focus on keeping my anxious voice steady. He doesn't answer immediately, looking as if he would prefer to say no but knows that's the wrong thing to do, so I help him out by pushing, "I think we need to talk."
"I'd rather not," he dryly huffs with a dead, almost sarcastic grin that does nothing but irritate me. I can't try and make things better if he won't let me have the chance.
Louis seems just as nervous as me, this being our first bad blood since Liam's eighteenth birthday party when the blue eyed boy told me he wanted to be more than friends, and I turned him down. However, I push myself from my own timid thoughts and sit down anyway, Lou scooting over a bit to avoid any closeness. He won't even look at me.
"Lou," I start sadly, "Please talk to me. I can't help that Zayn wanted to talk to me and not you as awful as that sounds coming from my mouth, but we just have to be there for him. That's what he needs right now," I plead with him while twisting my pinky ring.
"He's leaving. Zayn is fucking leave us, Belle!" Louis finally turns his darkened gaze on me, and I instantly shrink underneath it, only rising back up when I see the tears he's trying so desperately to hide with anger.
A cold fist grips my heart and crushes it into a million little pieces that shatter down from my chest to the deepest pits of my stomach like tiny crystalized rain drops, impaling my gut and making me feel so nauseous that I question whether it's just shock or true illness. He's really leaving then.
I've never felt like a failure before until this moment, and I'm not too fond of it, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and try harder to help Zayn. However, the rational part of me that isn't drowning in the hurt knows this is best.
"Shit," I breathe, face reddening as the reality sets in. Reaching out to rub Lou's knee reassuringly, our hands brush and he doesn't hesitate to pull away as quickly as he can. Our eyes meet and instead of holding their usual mischief, his irises hold an anger and sadness that I never thought I'd see from him.
"He's going on stress leave, effective immediately. No telling when he'll be back," Louis grumbles, staring off into space with an agitated shake of his head. My eyes follow him as my mouth falls open when he pushes up from the couch and starts walking to the door, leaving not only his song journal behind but me as well, following in the footsteps of Zayn who also turned his back on me, and I'm not taking it well.
"I'm not mad at you by the way," he mumbles over his shoulder, hair falling in his face. "I'm just mad at myself."
"We all are. You're not the only one," I say, nearly begging him to stay with the whiny tone of my voice. Pushing myself to the very edge of the couch, I prepare to go after Louis if he leaves me here, refusing to fail him like I did Zayn.
All he can do is simply nod his head in understanding, some of the guilt hopefully lifting from his shoulders. We both let our eyes fall to the ground, thoughts harassing our brains of how we were such terrible friends for not noticing sooner. Maybe we could have helped and prevented this. Maybe the band could have demanded time off instead of just allowing themselves to be pushed until one of them finally broke.
"Where is everyone?" Louis asks suddenly.
"Um," I start, speaking slowly, "I think they might be with Zayn. He mentioned wanting to go out."
Louis scrunches up his face in confusion, running his tongues over his thin lips as he smirks, the first smile I've seen from anyone in hours.
"Are you shitting me?" He almost laughs.
"N-no," I stutter. "That's what Zayn told me when we talked, and when I couldn't find anyone else on my way to find you, I just assumed that's where they were."
"Well c'mon then, Beauty," Louis walks toward me and grabs my hand, pulling me from the couch and towards the door. I can't help but widen my eyes at how quickly his entire persona just changed from the sadness it held to this newfound tranquility.
"What just happened?" I question, motioning back to the couch as he continues to pull me to the door.
"No point in wallowing. It's over, so might as well make our last night together for awhile one hell of a memorable one."
And with that, we walk out of the door.
*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*
Nervousness is nauseous stomachs, tight joints, and clammy palms. Nervousness is a dreadful emotion that I feel way more often than I'd like ever since I met Harry, Louis, Niall, Liam, and Zayn.
I've been nervously picking at my nails and twisting my pinky ring around my finger nonstop despite the relaxing Gerry Rafferty song playing in the dark Escalade and Harry's arms wrapped around me while we sit cramped in the back with Niall. I pick relentlessly at my white jeans while I think about Zayn's quiet form up in the passenger seat.
I'm nervous about his well being more than anything, but I'm also nervous about the other boys. I know they're all gutted just as much as me despite us all knowing this is the best thing for Zayn.
"He'll be back," Harry whispers in my ear with a reassuring smile, however his eyes give away how unsure he really is of that fact. "He just needs some time," he adds, although I feel like he only said the last sentence to convince himself more than me.
All I can do is nod and give Harry a small smile as he presses a hard kiss to my temple.
My heart is beating out of my chest when the car pulls up to whatever club management found for us to come to. Although it's an absurd hour of the late night and early morning for many people to still be out, I'm still terrified of being seen by any suspicious eyes, so while the boys pile out and head in through the front, I kindly request the driver to take me to the back.
There was no line outside at the front entrance, so I don't expect a packed club, the fact that it's almost four in the morning playing a role in the emptiness.
As I enter the loud yet silent club, I grin to myself, eyes crinkling slightly, at the boys all laughing like old times at a table in the corner. It brings me peace that maybe this will be temporary, and everything will be alright.
The loud music that plays only booms for the sake of a few older couples at the bar, two men who look like tourists dancing together under the neon lights, and now the members of One Direction and I who no one here seems to know. For once, the fast paced speed of my life seems to slow.
I walk freely across the mostly empty floor, but stop suddenly when the boys jump up with smiles beaming from their faces, even Zayn, as they run toward me. "Where are you going?" I ask Liam with a small grin.
"Karaoke. What do you think the odds are that they have a One Direction song?" He hoots happily as he runs past me and towards the stage at the front of the vintage looking club.
"Probably guaranteed," I call after him just as Louis and Niall run up to either side of me and grab my hands, pulling me with them.
I look over my shoulder and feel a warm tingle in my chest at the sight of Harry with his arm around a laughing Zayn, both of them seeming to be happy in just each other's company. When I turn back and more willingly allow myself to be pulled to the stage by Louis and Niall, I smile to myself at the story Harry told me once about how he met Zayn in line at his first audition for X-Factor and how they both liked each other so much, they decided to take a picture so they wouldn't forget each other.
The universe is a strange thing.
"Lads, they have Act My Age of all songs," Liam turns over his shoulder from where he scrolls through the songs on the karaoke machine, brown eyes lighting up from the bright screen.
"No fucking way," Harry runs forward, brown Chelsea boots clanking against the hollow stage. A small gust of cold air blows from the air conditioning through his air when he comes to a stop. A dimple forming smile dances across lips as he sees Liam is telling the truth. I know how much they all love this song, but unfortunately it's not on the set list, so it looks like the stragglers in this club are about to get a show.
"You singing too, Belle?" A less somber Zayn strolls up to me where I stand behind them all with my arms nonchalantly crossed.
Widely grinning and reaching forward to take the sixth and final mic from Liam, the opening chords of Act My Age begin and the lights go down.
"Hell yeah," I haughtily respond.
This earns a knowing smirk from Zayn who jogs forward and wraps a tattooed arm around my shoulders before steering me to the center of the stage, the two if us in the middle between Harry and Niall on our left, Liam and Louis on our right. Everyone in the emptying club quickly understands that they're about to get a good show, so they abandon their drinks and seats at the bar in favor of a good spot on the dance floor.
"When I'm fat and old," Niall starts, surging forward to the very end of the stage and singing brightly. I run forward, and start singing with Nialler which causes him to laugh unexpectedly into the mic as I stand back to back with him and we belt the beginning lyrics.
Around us, Harry tries to get Zayn to dance as stupidly as he is while Louis and Liam interact with the crowd, getting the seven people on the dance floor to clap to the beat.
Everyone joins in on the chorus, Harry shooting me a thumbs up along with Louis for my expert singing skills that really aren't that expert. Years of shower practice have paid off, working extra hard every night underneath the hot steamy water ever since Tommo told me I can't sing.
"Hey!" We all scream at the top of our lungs, Harry going wild like always with his long hair flying, Louis running up and down the length of the stage, and the rest of the guys along with myself participating in some stupid swaying dance move that Niall starts doing. When I look down at the clubbers, they're all smiling and moving to the beat in enjoyment.
The song continues, all of us singing together, "When I'm fat and old, and my kids think I'm a joke, 'cause the stories that I told, I tell again and again."
When the small piano plays in the background, Zayn and I pretend to play the melody on an imaginary piano before jumping around and flipping our hair. It's so nice to see him happily perform again, and I would give anything for things to stay this way- to see him find his love for this life again, but I know that dream is fleeting.
"When I can hardly walk and my hair is falling out," we belt, standing in a straight line at the front of the stage with arms locked. Niall stands at the end and whistles down the line at Liam, Harry, Zayn, me, and then Louis. The six of us start kicking out our feet to the beat like a kick line, but it's all a mess, because we're all so close in an attempt to keep our mics at our lips, but at this point we're just screaming out as we harmonize, Zayn and I hitting the high notes on, "Oh yeah!"
The song finishes all to quickly, and in our heavily breathing hazes, none of us notice that Zayn is missing or that the song has started again until his unforgettable voice starts to sing Niall's part for him. We all look at Zayn Malik, flabbergasted, quick to join in, as he speaks over the music and into the mic, "We're doing this again!"
And we do.
The stage shakes with the intense jumping of our feet, and when Harry runs at me and starts tickling my sides, I scream into my microphone and sprint from him to hide behind Liam and Zayn as I continue to laugh my ass off, pulling the mic away from my lips to spare everyone from my obnoxious snorting when Harry flips his hair dramatically at me.
Niall's doing an Irish jig, Louis and Liam are carrying Zayn like he's the king of the world, and Harry and I are just jumping around in circles like total fools who don't ever want this moment to end. For once everyone is happy, and it's hard not to feel like the stupid, young, and naive kids that we all were the summer we first met, not pulling shit like this since then.
For once, no one cares about hitting the proper notes, and there's no management to reprimand them for acting the wrong way or for letting a curse word slip. We are all just being ourselves and reveling in one another's company, because this might be the end. Niall's laughter never seems to cease, nor does Zayn's smile which has become like finding a rare gem since he never uses it anymore.
"One more time!" Payno bellows as Louis pushes the button and Act My Age starts again, our jumping, dancing, and laughing never once coming to an end.
By the time the song is finishing up for the fifth time, so is our time as a group of six. I know it's only temporary, and it's not the end, but the tears in my eyes as the boys all circle around me and crush me right in the middle of a massive group hug is enough to send me over the edge.
Every single one of us smells like sweat and others of alcohol, but that persistent vanilla scent is enough to reassure me that everything will be okay even if it doesn't seem like it.
Zayn will be back when he's healthy again and when he's ready. None of us know when that will be, and all of us are sad that things got to this point, but as we grip onto each other in the middle of a stage that resides in a now completely empty club, no one can hold in their tears anymore. Zayn's flight home for stress leave is taking off in three hours, so the poor boy is running out of time, and our flight to Manila leaves later in the day.
"I love you guys," I cry uncontrollably into someone's chest that I can't tell who it belongs to in the midst of this hug.
Everyone choruses back in response, four distinct voices that always sound so good together.
"I love you too," Zayn responds finally.
I won't act my age no, I'll still feel the same around you...