Make Me Beg ➸ Larry Stylinson

thirty seven

Liam's POV:

Zayn should be home any minute now, and I'm am emotional wreck. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I drunk-cheated with James.

Based on the fact that I woke up with my belt and trousers still on from last night, I don't think he slept with me which is beyond a relief.

When Zayn comes home to talk with me, I just hope he can understand that I didn't do this on purpose, nor was I even aware it happened.

I never get drunk and clearly some people (a.k.a. James) saw that as an opportunity to get with me. James has asked me out countless times and I'm sure in his eyes, drunk me was his best bet at a fling or a one-night stand, which is absolutely disgusting.

Fuck you, James.

I'm too nervous for my talk with Zayn to sit down, so I pace around our flat. It's hard to wait for him to come home, but I don't dare to text or call him.

Zayn can have quote the temper when he gets upset (which, in this situation, he has absolutely every right to be) and making him even more upset or worked up will not help my chances of explaining myself.

After I woke up this morning, I only realized what had happened when I saw the texts from James. I have since called James over the phone and proceeded to scream - yes, literally scream - at him for trying to hook up with me while I was drunk.

He tried to defend himself, but I couldn't hear him over my yelling and I didn't want to hear his side of the story because I didn't care. He did what he did and the knows it. I ended our call without giving him so much as a five second of silence to explain himself.

I'm sure this makes me sound hypocritical, because I want Zayn to hear me out without going irate. But my hope is that us actually being boyfriends will somehow help with that.

The knot in my stomach is hard to ignore and I'm completely on edge, and already on the verge of tears. I've cried into a pillow three separate times today and there's surely more tears to come.

The front door opens and a beautiful yet absolutely pissed-looking Zayn walks in slamming it behind him.

"Zayn, babe-"

"Liam. James. Payne." He cuts me off and I flinch when he says my full name in such a harsh tone, "What the actual fuck were you doing last night?!"

I gulp, intimated at his question. Nonetheless, I take a deep breath and get ready for what could possibly be the last conversation of our relationship.

✰ ✰ ✰

Zayn's POV:

My car ride home is tense and I'm practically death-gripping the steering wheel, so much so that my knuckles are turning white.

The field trip was wonderful and the kids surely took my mind off of things. However, now that the parade is over and I'm driving back home to see Liam, all of my frustration and confusion comes flooding back.

I want to forgive him, I really do. But at the same time, I need to hear what he has to say for himself. I can't be soft and tell him everything will be okay.

Not now, at least. Not before I know where he stands with this and what he has to say about it all.

I surely broke multiple speed limits on the way home, but I don't give a fuck. When I finally get home I'm confused and upset as I aggressively whip open the front door.

Liam's pacing around our living room, looking like a petrified puppy when he looks up from his feet to meet my eye. His eyes are red, and I can tell he's been crying. I slam the door loudly and don't even bother to take off my shoes.