Instances

Behind closed doors.

Zayn plopped himself on a side of the wall. With his phone in his right hand and his left ran through his hair, he sighed deeply. He didn't know what he was going to do anymore. He was still there, locked up in their room yet again. He was getting tired of this, but he still needed space. Still needed perspective. He stared out and for the nth time, remembered what led him to this.

After having had washed all the blood off his face, he stared at himself on the mirror that hung above the sink. He knew tonight went too far. This wasn't like him, no. 

"Just too much stress." He sighed deeply and thought of the series of events that happened just a few hours before. How lucky he was to have friends that had his back, how fucking dumb it was that he'd let himself go on like that with the alcohol.

The tour was taking a toll on him, he thought. It was just too much pressure. Yes, that was it. It was just too much pressure and he let himself go a bit. The concert earlier just had him stressing on career again.

Zayn made his way through the crowd. Bodies were grinding up each other everywhere, the air filled with the smell of sweat and lust. He wasn't in any mood today, so he thought this would be a good idea. One shot. Two shots. Fourteen shots. A girl winking at him by the bar. He didn't even care. He chuckled at her attempt at flirtation, rolled his eyes and downed another one and then next thing he knew someone took a jab at his jaw for apparently stealing someone's girlfriend. Slurred words, slurred shouting. More fists swinging. Friends pulling him back, security dragging him out.

He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. 

This wouldn't have happened if Perrie was there. 

It was just distance. The distance and the tour, both of their tours, had put such a strain on them. He thought bitterly about how she reasoned out of staying the extra day. The day that was supposed to be their day. How none of this would've happened if she were with him tonight, but he quickly let the grudge go. He was disgusted at himself for blaming his stupid mistake on her, even for just a second. He took a deep breath and picked up a cloth near the counter and went back to the mirror to tend to the cuts on his face.

He just knew tonight was nothing but a slip up, but at the back of his mind he wondered if it really was just the alcohol that pushed him so far. 

_________________________________________________

He lighted the cigarette, took a long drag, and then stared at the view in front of him. 

The sun was barely up and the cold air washed over his face. 

On these mornings, he didn't have to be so strong. 

The stoic expression on his face indicated how he was deep in thought, as he always was. He's long since given up the idea of not overthinking, so he settled with overthinking with just himself. There was no reason to worry everyone else. They were his own irrational, highly delusional problems. 

This seemed to be the new morning routine ever since that night with her, and took longer every time. Burned just a bit more nicotine every morning. He licked his lips and immediately his face was filled with disgust. 

He wasn't sure if the taste lingered on his lips or if the memory was so vivid that he would imagine tasting it every time, but he was bothered either way. 

Every morning since then he would remember their latest kiss, and every time he did so he would flinch. 

On that first night he tasted it, he pulled back, but he devoured her mouth before she even noticed. Her hands would find their way to the back of his neck and his would already be wrapped around her tiny little waist. His kisses were slways soft and sweet, but since then they'd always be a bit more agressive. Everytime he tugged at her lips a little harder, his tongue played with hers just a little more. His hands pulled her into him more urgently.