Satellite Stomper and Wild Sunflower [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

Five quick minutes...

H,

One year later...

"No, no..." I ordered. "I'm not taking none of that."

"Why not?" Tom asked, holding a few of the books I had bought while staying with him. "I don't have any room to put them."

"I'm not putting books in my suitcase, Tom!"

"What am I to do with them, then?"

"I don't know...leave them be?"

"No!" Tom sat the books on top of the dresser, next to the previous pile. "I have over 200 books that you bought. I don't have enough shelves, Harry."

"First of all, it's not 200. Second, it's a sign for you to read more."

"I don't have time to read. I work."

"So do I, but I read all of those books in a year."

"You, my friend, have a problem."

"Then, mail them to me."

"Am I made of money?"

I stood in my bedroom and looked around.

"You have a house in Malibu and a Ferrari! Yes, you are made of money!" Tom rolled his eyes at me, then exited the room. "Don't you touch my books, Tom!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

Tom lived out in Malibu, with a house overlooking the beach and a breathtaking view. I spent this year with him, watching over the house while he travelled with the artists he'd work with.

Most of the time, I had the house all to myself. I'd get up early in the morning. Take a quick jog on the sand or if the waves were nice, take my board and try catching a few waves - I was not an expert, by a long shot, but I liked the freedom of being in the ocean.

Professionally, it had been a good year: I was a freelance photographer, pairing up with brands on occasion to work on projects. It gave me enough money to keep me going and enough time to do other things.

Financially, I was solid: I saved a lot of money, and paid my part to Tom - I insisted on paying rent and utility bills, even though he said it didn't make a difference.

Emotionally? I was a wreck.

My home was with Zayn.

That's where I was going. I couldn't take it anymore. It had been a year of suffering.

Coming here had been an impulsive thing and I couldn't be thankful enough to Tom for opening his doors to me. I called him on my way to the airport, begging him for a place to stay. I was crying on the phone and was completely lost. I felt I had made the biggest mistake of my life, but I needed to do it.

We weren't good.

It couldn't be good moving forward, not with everything we had behind us.

Of course, the love was magical.

Our love was fireworks, flames, and thunder. It was the quietness of the snowstorm. It was the intense heat of a day out in the desert.

He was beautiful. He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. He was so intense with his love. Leaving an imprint on me, and I couldn't let go of it. He tamed my heart quickly, with just one stare on a bloody queue to watch The Killers. Bam! There I was falling on my knees for him. I was never.

He was my first. My first kiss, my first love, my first passion and the first of many heartbreaks.

We met as teenagers waiting in line for a concert he didn't want to be at - he wouldn't remember the name of the band, I was certain. After we exchanged phone numbers we continued to talk through text and call. It could've been awkward, but we connected fairly easily. We would talk every day - a morning text, then casual conversation throughout the day, ending with a phone call that could last for hours.