Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts

8

"Today has been absolute shit." Harry slammed Zayn's door behind him dramatically.

"Ah yes, nice to see you Harry, thanks for calling ahead before breaking into my house." Zayn called from the kitchen.

"It's not breaking and entering if you have a key Zayn!" Harry called back, throwing himself on the living room couch.

"Why's your day been shit? Hey- I watched that interview you did live earlier, you seemed alright." Zayn walked into the living room with a board of sushi and chocolate strawberries, setting it on the coffee table and returning to the kitchen.

Harry groaned again, "Why can't life be simple?! It's like, I never understood the phrase 'can't have your cake and eat it' until now."

"Are you sure you understand what that means?" Zayn called from the kitchen.

"It means I'm dying, metaphorically!" Harry yelled back.

Zayn entered the living room once again with chopsticks and two glasses of ice water.

"Care to explain, or are you going to force me to watch The Notebook while you cry and eat my sushi-strawberry charcuterie board?" Zayn asked, slumping onto the part of the couch Harry didn't occupy.

"Mffmlirrhd." Harry muffled out of where his face was planted in the couch.

"Damn ceilings are too high, I really need to call someone in to dust them...fucking hate spiders." Zayn muttered to himself, flicking the tv on, "What was that Harry?"

"Can't life just be easier?" Harry asked softly, making Zayn freeze what he was doing and slowly turn to Harry.

Zayn set down the remote, "Okay. Hey. Hey, seriously. Tell me what's up. I'm a good listener, you know?"

Harry sat up, flinging his head backward onto the top of the couch.

"Have you ever... Have you ever made a mistake so big it feels like the world is going to fall apart?" Harry asked, closing his eyes briefly.

Zayn frowned, "Maybe not so big, but trust me, mistakes are my forte."

Harry turned his head to look at Zayn, "It never looks like that."

Zayn grinned slyly, "That's called the art of feigning perfection. Important for our fields of work, ey?"

Harry sighed.

"So what's the mistake?"

"I- you know how Simon is." Harry began.

Zayn made a small face, "I do."

"And you always tell me to just leave him, find another manager, another company?" Harry continued.

"And I stand by that." Zayn said, a bit firmer.

"I can't."

Silence.

"I was young, and I was stupid and naïve. I had moved to LA not even half a year before he offered me a contract," Harry paused to take a breath, "The contact meant I would immediately sign on with The Complex, and he told me that they expected it to be a hit, and it felt like something I couldn't say no to."

Zayn was watching Harry cautiously as Harry explained.

Zayn knew every dark crack and crevice of the celebrity world he had been resident in since he was fifteen.

He was no stranger to the inner workings, part of the reason he had, in some senses, adopted Harry when he was first getting big.

"I didn't have money for a lawyer, hell, I barely had money for rent. It was so many pages Zayn. Too many pages. I was giddy, and I thought, 'nothing in this contract would make me turn down this deal'. I skimmed it, and I didn't understand a single word that was written in it- I barely even looked at it because Simon said it would be good, and he was supposed to be my friend."