(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. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)
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***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED AND IS NO LONGER CENSORED***
September 2011
The last moments of our time at the bungalow were spent in the yard with the other boys, fooling around with a leaf blower until it ran out of petrol. Z kept his distance snickering to himself, and I was glad to be able to breathe before heading home. For days to come, I wouldn't understand why his touch still made me weak, or why I still felt giddy whenever he walked into a room, even after I'd been annoyed by him.
Feelings I had presumed to be short-lived would set up camp in my brain and preoccupy it, day in and day out. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the oxytocin was there to stay, and administered me a feeling of unadulterated bliss each time I recounted the bungalow. Sweet bursts of dopamine, rocketing throughout my body and leaving me on edge, especially in his vicinity.
Once we headed back to London to our separate flats, I wondered how things would progress between us. Would our nights together fade and be lost to the ever-enlarging vacuum of distant memory? Or would we relive them right away without shame? (In my place or his.) Would we continue to be what we were when no one was watching? Would he forget me?
What had we established exactly? That we liked kissing? That we liked touching each other's bodies? Was that enough to bind us? Even in all my inexperience with relationships, I doubted it. I think convention required something more solidified before we could consider ourselves a "couple." Something like communication or devotion—neither of which we had mastered yet.
On the bus trip back to London, I felt him drifting; slipping away from me ever-so-subtly so that I didn't notice it at first. He kept his headphones on most of the time, and apart from that, he joked about with the other boys and began to pretend I didn't exist. When I made follow-up remarks to his, he barely spared me a glance. When I laughed at his jokes, he didn't snicker over at me like he used to, instead he rushed on to another topic as though he was afraid to be caught fraternizing with me individually.
Eventually I took all I needed from his silence and kept my distance as well, unwilling to make a fool of myself by laughing at his every word and earning such a glacial reception. In the meantime, I stuck to Louis and the other boys in hopes it would distract me from all that had happened and all that was happening now, and shortly realized that Lou was the only one who really had my back at the end of the day. Zayn had gotten what he wanted and was now treating me like I was disposable. It hurt in ways I still failed to define, and made me question my masculinity and self-worth to no end.
By the time two weeks had passed, there was no hope to revive what we'd allowed to die between us, and my self-esteem plummeted like never before (even worse than when I'd gotten a chubby a few years ago and my family made remarks about it when we gathered on the holidays.) Now, I plagued myself with questions of what went wrong and why he was no longer interested. Did he no longer find me attractive? Was I too boyish after all? Was I ugly in the light of day—since he was only used to dealing with me under the cover of night?
Was it my voice, my smell, my hair? Did he want me to wear heels, lipstick, perfume? What had changed? He was completely ignoring me now; absurdly so. Flagrantly so. He wasn't even pretending to be a cordial bandmate anymore. Something had changed within him, and as a result, he was shunning me harder by the day, embarrassed by what had happened and longing that I didn't exist to remind him.
That tactic worked well and rapidly to erase us. By now, it was as though there had never been anything, and each day the traces of his touch and his many breathy "I love you's" felt centuries removed. He never called, and since he didn't, I refrained from doing so myself. We saw each other at work and only spoke in group settings, still awkwardly laughing at each other's jokes. To spare himself, he spent all his free time with Danny and Stephanie, sometimes at the cinema or the arcade, but rarely where I could get to them. Or they all went bowling and he'd talk about it with Liam and Lou the next day, and I was left to eavesdrop like a stranger sat at a nearby table in a gloomy restaurant.
As my hatred for him developed, true hatred and disgust, I doubled the time spent with Lou and Niall and endeavored to ignore him as well. I no longer felt comfortable visiting his apartment, even as a group, although he was the closest to mine and Lou's, and Lou spent most of his free time over there. The only solace I found was with Ed and his friends, and with Caroline on occasion (whenever she could make time for me.)
I returned to her full-throttle, frantic to feel desired again. And I liked her apartment. It was night and day difference to the flat Lou and I shared, which we never cleaned. One visit from his mom and she had set us up with a cleaning lady and fussed at us for scuffing up the hardwood floors in the dining room and lounge.
Caroline's apartment was bright, spacious, and well-lived in. It felt like someone's home, all the way down to coasters, scented candles, and heaps of framed pictures along the mantle and end tables. She had elegant teal and red rooms—the color selections as saucy and as forward as her. I found that I was growing increasingly attracted to the slight huskiness in her voice, as it was the complete opposite of his. Not only that, but her age, her womanhood, her independence—all equally intimidated me and helped me to forget about him for long stretches.
She was unlike any girl I'd ever met, and I figured maybe it was because she was twice my age and unapologetically career-oriented. Her thoughts were elevated, and in that way, she had a big impact on mine. As a strategist, she inspired me to think in moves ahead and to always see the bigger picture, not just the immediate one. It was a perspective that would come with age, (or so she promised.)
What I disliked was that she put her job above everything, including family and friends, and especially me. The fact that she wasn't afraid to set me in my place both insulted and amused me and I wondered if I could ever be so direct.
Where I truly became triggered were the parallels from my relationship with Z. She, too, was embarrassed to be seen with me in public, and would only agree to go out in group settings. Apparently she felt guilty about my age, but only ever when we were among others. When we were alone, there was nothing about her behavior that suggested she was ashamed of me (similar to the inconsistent way he treated my masculinity.)
After the trip at the bungalow, Caroline was the only one who could take my mind off him. I tried to spend as much time with her as possible, reminding myself of what made me fall for her to begin with, regretful that I'd ever let him in. He had damaged something within me that no one could repair, and it made me view her differently. As though she was lacking. I was beginning to compare them too often and needed to stop. He had no place in my feelings for her. They offered two completely different things. One was a superficial hook-up full of lies and now long-forgotten. The other...the other was her. It was us. Harry and Caroline. The X-Factor duo. I had stolen her from Olly Murs. We had to be something for the sheer principal of the matter...or so I made myself believe.
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Princess Park
October 2011
I got home late from laser tag with the boys (Zayn was not among us) and glared at the door to his apartment as we all separated into our flats. Lou stood beside our door and waited for me to catch up, but I waved him ahead and told him I'd be home later.
"Suit yourself..." he said, eyeing me suspiciously until the door shut. Then I took a deep breath and approached. Was he even home? How would he react? I'd never done this before, not without calling first. He would probably be pissed I was being so forward, but it was a risk I was willing to take. If it was truly over, then I needed to know why. He at least owed me that.
Three solid knocks gained me no reply. I was almost certain he wasn't home. After four increasingly more hostile knocks, I realized I was right, and forfeited and went home myself. Lou and I ordered pizza, half cheese for him, half loaded with chicken and sweetcorn, which he found disgusting. The only other person who shared my taste for that combination was the idiot I couldn't get back in touch with to save my life.
"Hey, uh...has Zayn been acting weird to you?" I asked abruptly, in the middle of a high action sequence in Fast Five. Lou glanced askance, somewhat annoyed, then paused the DVD.
"Wut?"
"Zayn. You know...has he been a bit weird lately?"
"Why're you being so dire?"
"I just feel like it's weird now." I shrugged, toying with the leather armrest of my chair. The recliners in the cinema room smelled like Robin's office.
"What makes you say so?"
"Cause..."
"Mate," he laughed. "Cause wut? You're wasting movie time 'ere..."
"I know, I know...it's alright. Hit play." I crossed my arms over my chest to stop from wringing my hands.
"Harrrrrey...c'mon...that's not gonna work. You've gotta tell me what you're on about now, lad."
"It's nothing, probably...but I just noticed..." I caught his gaze to determine if it was safe to speak my mind, and the minute I met his eyes, I knew there was no way in hell I could confide in him about everything.
"It's just that...you know the bungalow?"
"Of course."
"Well...after the bungalow...he's been acting weird towards me. I dunno how to explain it...but it's just weird, right? That he would change like that?"
"True, I guess..."
"He's like...avoiding me or something."
"How so?" he squinted.
"Y'know how he texts you and Liam and always wants to hang out? Well...he literally never texts me anymore. He even texts Niall...but not me."
"Well, have you bothered to text him?"
"No, mate," I drawled, clearing my throat. "That's not the point."
"How's it not? You know the phone's a two-way street, lad. You can make a move too." He laughed and his eyes squinted, reminding me of Z's. Then he touched a hand to his mouth and flicked his fringe away. "Listen, Harold. Don't beat yourself up about it, alright? Zayn is Zayn. We always figured he's a bit of weird one, haven't we? And I mean that in the best possible way, of course, because I bloody love the kid. He's just...gotta take time to himself sumtimes. No harm done, then."
"Yeah, but..." I ruffled my hair in frustration. "Why's it always with only me? He likes you, he likes Liam, he likes Niall. He texts you all every day. Is he annoyed by me or something?"
"Doubt it..." he contemplated with a yawn. I could almost see the gears turning in his head to come up with a good excuse to spare my feelings. What sucks is that if he really knew the truth, he'd eventually have no choice but to tell me I'd been played. "I seriously doubt he's doing it on purpose, Barry. He speaks too highly of you, still."
"Oh yeah?"
"Seriously. All the time. Just the other day he was gushing about how you smashed it in the studio."
"So...what then?" I puzzled. "...he just doesn't like talking to me anymore or something?"
"Doubt it. I think he's just been stretched a tad thin at the minute. He's been having trouble with Steph apparently. He's proper moody, from what I can see. He thinks she's seein' sum-one else. Sum older guy..."
"Oh..." I didn't want to feel relieved, since that would only mean he was ignoring me for more important things. Things that he prioritized above me in his book. Lou yelled in time with the action sequence onscreen, which he had started back up while I chewed my thumb knuckle. I wondered how invested he was with her, for him to be upset over her seeing someone else. Was he trying to be with her? And if so, did he think he could just ignore me, and I'd be okay with it? After the things we did? F—k that. I put his dick in my mouth. The least he could do was acknowledge my existence now.
I jumped up to try my luck again at his apartment, ignoring Lou's questions of where I was headed. He probably figured anyway based on how badly I'd just been bugging him. After a few pounds on the familiar door, the wood jumping, Z finally answered, dead-tired and dressed in a t-shirt and briefs. It slipped my mind that it must've been 2am by now.
"Haz? What the hell? What's going on?"
"You tell me," I spat, eyeing him up and down with barely contained rage.
"What d'youh mean?" His eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them; brow wrinkled in true bafflement.
"Why the f—k have you been avoiding me??"
"F—k, Haz," he grimaced, resting his forehead against the door. "You're right. I know, I know...I was just startin' to think that. I f—ked up, okay? I'm sorry."
"So what? That's just it? You're 'sorry' now? That's just supposed to make me feel better about you ditching me the last two weeks?"
"No, you're right. I was wrong. I was being a d—k. I was nervous."
"Nervous?"
"I just thought you and I were being..." he looked behind me warily before lowering his voice. "Too obvious, yeah? I thought...it'd be better if we just act normal—"
"But we weren't acting normal. You were ignoring me. How is that the way we acted before?"
"I know, that just hit me now, especially after seeing youh so upset. That was stupid of me, Haz, seriously—" The plea in his eyes made me want to forgive him, but I couldn't help thinking of how many nights I stayed up feeling like sh-t because I thought I'd turned him off in some way. The way he made me feel had been totally avoidable if he'd just been upfront from the beginning. And I wasn't an idiot. I knew he wasn't apologizing this easy for no reason. There was an ulterior motive. He was just trying to shut me up so I wouldn't make a scene. So why not give him hell?
"No, that's bullsh-t, alright? I'm not just some chick you can ditch because you're tired, then give me some weak excuse the second I confront you about it. We're not okay, and you can shove that off-handed apology up your—"
"Haz!" he hissed, waving his hands to quiet me.
I took a breath and relented. This was going nowhere fast, but I still needed him to know I was hurt, otherwise he'd see no problem in treating me that way again (that's if we even had a future.)
"D'you even realize how bad I missed you? How bad you hurt me?"
"Babe, I thought you were gud. You were with Caroline—"
"Only because I wasn't with you." I ground out, voice rising. He shushed me again, stepping into the hall and pulling the door closed behind him.
"Hey...youh drunk or sumthin'?" he asked, trying to sniff my breath."
"No...I'm just annoyed."
"Haz...f—k, you're really doing this right now?" He was right. It wasn't the time or place, but I hadn't spoken with him in over two weeks and it felt so good to have his attention again. I didn't want it to end.
"I get why you're pissed, believe me, I do. I just don't know how else to say it, babe...m'sorry for ghostin' youh, making you feel like an idiot about everythin'." I fell against him and hugged him so tight that he grunted for air.
"I really, really missed you, ok? Like...so much," I breathed. When we broke, his tired eyes were smiling.
"Me too..."
"Can I come over, then? Can I spend the night? Please?"
"I can't, babe, not tonight..."
"Why?"
"Steph's ova—" He could barely finish the sentence before I walked away. He ran after me a bit and grabbed my arm, spinning me around. "Hazzz, cmon, babe. Stop actin' like that."
"I just wanna go home."
"Look at me...look at me!" he snapped. I backed against the corridor wall in capitulation, and just like that, I was once more under his spell.
"You're not even goin' anywhere..." he taunted me, grabbing my jaw and tilting my face towards his. Why had I gone after him? I'd set myself up for nothing but renewed defeat; more childish angst. For him I was low-hanging fruit, and now he was picking away at me with dreadful skill.
"Why youh so upset?" he asked softly, rubbing his hands up and down my arms, caressing my flesh with his thumbs.
"I...I dunno..." I shrugged.
"Why?" His voice was low and wicked, crippling me with its languid inflections. Effortlessly dominating the final straws of my willpower. I was beginning to notice this was a cycle with him, and though I was totally cognizant of his ploy, I remained powerless to withstand it.
"Hey...tell me what youh want..." he coaxed, hands slipping beneath my shirt to rub the sensitive flesh of my waist. I was terrified someone would come walking out of one of the nearby flats at any moment.
"I wanna spend the night..." I muttered, almost inaudibly. I was down-trodden and guilty. "I miss you...and I've never slept over before..."
"Mm-hm..."
"Can I come in? Please, Z." He set his forehead to mine and exhaled. I drove the moment home by speaking in a breathy whisper. "I want you to take my clothes off..."
We were being reckless. Anyone could stumble upon us at any moment. We were standing in the middle of the ill-lit hall in plain view. Steph could come out after him, or Lou could come out after me since I never told him where I was going or when I would return. And I had ditched him in the middle of a movie.
"Get rid of her..." I begged, wrapping my arms around his neck and exhaling into his ear.
"What about tomorrow?" he wagered, in a tormented groan. "I'll come get youh straight away. I'll make sure Danny isn't here, it'll just be youh and me, okay? I'll rent some movies...we can grab takeout...spend the whole day together, alright? Sound gud? Youh want me to cook for you?" I nodded, not trusting myself to say much else. "Youh gonna wait for me, then?" He earned himself another nod. "I'll call in the mornin', babe, alright? After she's gone."
"You better." He grabbed me and squeezed me, but when he tried to kiss me, I stopped him. I knew he had been kissing her.
**********
The next morning, I woke up late and after showering, heard his voice in the lounge. He'd kept his promise. I dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to find Lou sat beside him on the sofa, talking about how he and El were thinking about meeting each other's parents over the holidays. He was nervous to meet her dad, apparently. They both looked over at me as I made my way down the open-welled staircase, joining them on the sofa.
"Stylerrr," Z nodded with a sh-t-eating grin. I smiled a little and gave him a quiet "Hey." It was all he was getting out of me for the moment.
"I wuz just tellin' Wayne here how bad you burned the chicken the other day, you log. Stunk up the whole house. Made the smoke detector go off and everything..."
"Oh cmon, Haz, can't be wastin' chicken like that," Z shook his head with a grin.
"Major, L, lad. That's one for the books, I think—"
"Heyyyy..." I said, feeling defensive; unable to suppress a grin. "Well in my defense, I didn't pre-set the oven correctly. So, it cooked faster than I expected. Everything else was alright."
"Well let's hope it doesn't happen again, shall we? I don't think I can take the neighbors complainin' and keepin' tabs on how sh-t we are as tenants. Everyone on our floor already said we were too loud."
"That's Zayn, mainly," I piped up, noting he had gotten several noise complaints for playing music too loud.
"What can I say, music is meant to be felt," he averred. "There's just too many old people here,yeah?"
"There is," I laughed, slipping a hand up my shirt sleeve to scratch my bare shoulder.
"Which is weird because you'd think they wouldn't be able to hear it," Lou added.
"Exactlyh."
I rubbed the back of my neck and watched him chat for a while about his day yesterday, fiercely deliberating how to get him alone. Lou wouldn't shut up, as per usual, and Zayn seemed particularly talkative that morning as well.
Eleanor did me a solid when she popped up a while later, and she and Lou went to his room directly. That left Zayn and me alone, and right away, we got awkward.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"As good as can be expected...considering..."
"What?"
"That you were with her next door." He lay back on the couch with an embarrassed groan.
"Youh can't think like that, Haz. That's not us. That's not how we operate." I shrugged, but kept quiet. "I couldn't stop thinkin of youh anyweh, babe...after youh stopped by. Couldn't get your smell outta my head, and your voice." He looked at me gingerly. "If that helps..."
"It does," I relented, accepting the consolation and moving to sit beside him on the couch. "What do you wanna do today?"
"Youh..." he uttered, in all seriousness. I glanced over to him, unable to control the tenderness in my gaze. I'd broken him already. He leaned his face against mine, and I could feel him warring with himself not to kiss me in the open.
"What if someone sees?" I asked. He growled and backed away, putting a few reluctant feet between us. I loved when his hair didn't have product in it and laid flat over his forehead like a fringe. It defined the luster in his eyebrows and the slant of his eyes, which looked at me now in a barely concealed sexual hostility. He was so direct when we were alone, it was scary.
"Wanna go to my room?" I asked, yielding to him, knowing it would f—k up our plans for the entire day.
I followed him up the stairs and shut the door behind us. The minute I did, he moved to lay across the center of the bed, unzipping his pants, spreading his legs and grabbing himself with both hands. Weak-kneed, I went to him, prepared to give him everything he wanted.
*********
When I attempted to shower again that afternoon, he barged into the bathroom and climbed in with me, openly and voraciously eating my ass until I moaned into the crook of my arm (hoping the water would drown out the rest of the sound.) Then he spread me open until it ached, flicking his tongue around my tender warmth before delving within. My ankles twisted, my legs at a loss for how to uphold my shuddering weight.
His shameless moans were buried between my cheeks, but I felt their vibrations pulsate throughout me, igniting every nerve in my body until I throbbed all over—even in the beds of my nails. Suddenly, he spun me around and drew me into his mouth for the first time. My knees bent. My toes reflexively separated as my feet attempted to brace for the attack, stopping me from toppling backwards. I nearly pissed myself, my being longing to liquefy and fall down the drain to escape the persistent pressure of his mouth.
Now he splayed the pillowy pink softness of his lips against my tip, kissing it with a morbid and conscientious unhurriedness—tracing it with his tongue and feeling me out. Before I could register his latest move, he swallowed me in one gulp, and I discovered the deepest reaches of his mouth—the remotest terrain of his tongue.
Fatigued with pleasure, I stumbled back against the wall of the shower, unable to stand as he choked on me, water splattering onto his jet-black hair and pooling down his face like a veil. I undulated my hips, slowly urging myself further down his throat, curious as to how much he could take. Soon he withdrew with a rasp and stroked me—his saliva like hot lube.
I slipped further and further along the hard granite as he scarfed me down again, shutting his eyes with a an unembarrassed whimper (measuring the intake on his own terms.) He twisted his wet palm around the furry base of my cock until I groaned his name and came on his chest in explosive spurts.
Afterwards, I plopped down onto the floor; legs like lead. Z knelt in front of me and washed himself off, cupping hot water into his hands and splaying it across his glistening chest.
"Youh ok?" he asked over the noise of the shower, rinsing his mouth and spitting into the drain. I nodded rigorously, still too weak to speak. Then he shut the water off and we sat side by side on the warm granite, listening to the last of the water spill down the drain with a gurgle.
"That was..."
"...yeah..." he agreed, taking my hand and intertwining our fingers. He brought them up for us to see and we marveled. Then he kissed my palm, and the inside of my wrist with a tender curiosity. When he bit down on that sensitive flesh, it broke the skin and I hissed in pain. He was still hungry. He kissed up my arm, biting me occasionally and I shivered with each brush of his teeth.
"I could eat youh all day," he murmured, before straddling my lap and kissing me like a maniac.
"What now?" I drawled, hugging him and staring ahead over his shoulder. It was still steamy in the encasement, and the surrounding glass had fogged over with great magnitude (as if to protect us.)
"I think we should maybe stop," he said, digging his fingers into my soaked hair and pressing his lips to my forehead repeatedly.
For some reason, I didn't disagree with the idea that we ought to end it. Having him back only reminded me of how insane we were when we got together. How nasty and depraved and...insatiable we were. This was not something I could keep up with, especially not with the tour starting in a month. Why had I asked for this again? Why hadn't I gotten away when I had the chance? He was too much for me, and we needed to get past whatever this was, so that it wouldn't ruin our working relationship. That should have been the most significant thing to us both.
As if he'd read my mind, he stood up, grabbing both my hands and pulling me to my feet as well. We stepped out of the shower and dried each other off, and he couldn't stop kissing my body. Later, he finally dressed, and I put on a new t-shirt and a pair of clean briefs.
"So we gud?" he asked, rubbing a towel against his hair to make it dry faster. I sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, limbs still trembling after what he'd done to me.
"I think we need to be. As sorry as it sounds." I shrugged. "And you're right...we need to be careful. This is dangerous as f—k. It's already ruining our friendship, and in my opinion that's bullsh-t because we've come too far, and still have such a long way to go...in the band, anyway."
"Right..." he thought a while. "And I don't want youh waitin' 'round for me like yesterday. I don't want that for youh, Haz. M'sorry, I never realized youh were so bothered by everythin'" I smiled wearily and rubbed a hand down my face, pulling at my swollen lips.
"M'bothered by everything, to be honest," I laughed to myself.
Now he sat beside me on the edge of the bed and slung an arm around my shoulders. What was meant to be a friendly gesture, transformed faster than either of us could manage to stop it. Before I knew it, he was kissing my ear and neck, repeating that we needed to stop, but laying me down again.
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