fOoL fOr YoU (Zarry) *discontinued*

5.4

Excuse my French
But every time you turn your phone around
I'm just kind of lose my, lose my shit
Thinkin' it's another me, hangin' on the other line
I'm fine
I keep bringin' all my problems to a pillow fight

I'm just trying to get to you
But it's not your fault
No, it's not your fault
No, it's not your fault
No, no

'Cause if I'm gonna learn how to love you
I need to unlearn how to love too
Need to unlearn how to run when it feels right
Oh my God, I'm tryin'
If I'm gonna learn how to choose you
I need to unlearn what I'm used to
Need to unlearn how to run when it feels right
Oh my God, I'm tryin'

Excuse my mouth
But every time you run a little late
Hanging with your friends, I
Freak the fuck out
Then you come home and your kiss tastes like wine
I'm fine
I keep bringing all my problems to a pillow fight

I'm just trying to get to you
But it's not your fault
No, it's not your fault
No, it's not your fault
No, no

'Cause if I'm gonna learn how to love you
I need to unlearn how to love too
Need to unlearn how to run when it feels right
Oh my God, I'm tryin'
If I'm gonna learn how to choose you
I need to unlearn what I'm used to
Need to unlearn how to run when it feels right
Oh my God, I'm tryin'

——

after a week of staying at zayn's, michael went home. more out of concern for harry than for the fact that he wanted to. and zayn doesn't mind, he swears he doesn't, but the sound of harry's name just messes with his brain. it isn't about harry though, it's just that it's ten past six and atlas should've been home an hour ago.

fuck. he's going crazy. he feels it crawling under his skin, the insanity. he feels it tearing at his hair, spilling from underneath his nails, yelling from the depths of his throat. it's everywhere, because atlas isn't here.

it's everywhere, until it isn't.

until there's a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the sane. reminding him that he's a person, not his own craziness. he's zayn malik, not the insanity inside of him.

zayn breaths in deeply and looks up at atlas. he means to say hi, to ask atlas how his day went, whether he'd like so dinner. what comes spilling out it, "where were you?"

"at work? i texted you, z. are you alright?" atlas concernedly asks. zayn doesn't answer that question. instead, he tugs at atlas' sleeve, and the older boy understands. so he leans down to kiss zayn. and everything's fine. everything's fine, zayn's not going insane and atlas' lips don't taste like lipstick. they taste like atlas. and that's— that's perfect.

"i made you dinner," zayn says, pulling away from the other boy. atlas frowns at zayn for a few seconds, and he feels panic building up again. maybe it's not fine? maybe atlas tasted the insanity that zayn's trying to hide. wait no. no. zayn's not insane. there's no insanity. is there?

"are you sure you're fine?" atlas asks again, his hand still on zayn's cheek. is his insanity seeping through, can atlas feel it on his skin? no. stop. he needs to stop using that word. there's no insanity. fuck. everything's fine. zayn's fine.

"yeah. yeah. i'm fine. perfectly fine," zayn says, nodding. he stands up abruptly, startling atlas a bit. "you should go freshen up and i'll fill you—" zayn stops when atlas' phone starts ringing loudly. "who's it?" it's not a weird question, but zayn hears it too. his tone and how fast he said it. is it the— no. stop using that word. he's fine.