Butterfly ✿ h.s.

Chapter ✿ 17

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Holly's POV

Then I push him. He doesn't register it at first, so I push a bit harder. He leans back and looks at me with a confused expression. "What?" He whispers, trying to lean in again.

"Stop." I murmur, and he pulls back. He lets go of me and stands patiently, waiting for an explanation. "I'm not sure about my feelings." Zayn's face falls.

"Oh." He turns away, but I grab his hand.

"I just mean that I don't know. One minute I like Harry and then I hate him, and I know that I like you but I just don't know!" I blurt out. Zayn sighs. "Does that make any sense whatsoever to you?" I ask.

"No, not really." He laughs. I stand on my tip-toes and give him a lingering kiss on the cheek.

"I just need time." I grab his hand and pull him out of the wisteria tree.

"Will you promise me one thing?" Zayn says as we're walking back to the hotel. I nod and he continues. "Promise me that if you realise you don't like Harry you will at least give me a proper shot." I squeeze his hand and he brings it up to his lips. The sound of running shocks me and I lean into Zayn. He tenses and looks around. The noise grows fainter and I look up at Zayn. He pecks me on the nose. We arrive back at the hotel in a peaceful, happy silence. When the elevator stops at my floor, Zayn kisses me on both cheeks, his hand resting on my lower back.

"Goodnight, my love." He whispers, and I smile. I begin walking back to my room when the noise of banging and shouting echoes down the corridor. At first, I dismiss it, but after it grows louder and louder, I listen carefully. The thick hotel walls muffle the noise a bit, but the smashing of glass and wood is too hard to miss. The noise is coming from Liam and Harry's room. The door is slightly ajar, so I cautiously push push it open. Inside, the room is almost dark except for a flickering lamp on the floor. It has been smashed, and pieces of glass lay all over the floor. I look harder and see a dark figure leaning against a wall. On a closer inspection I realise it's Harry. The bed is upturned, the desk has been smashed in half and the television is in bits. I step inside, trying to dodge the pieces of broken furniture.

"Harry?" I say, and he turns away from the wall to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, an indication he has had too much to drink. His hair overly messy, and his button up shirt is sitting lopsided on his tall frame. The worst part is his hands. They are cut and bleeding, from his palms to his elbows. There are shards of jagged glass hanging off his hands, probably from the television.

"Holly." He growls, moving towards me. He continues to walk towards me until he backs me into a wall. The overpowering smell of whisky engulfs me as he breathes heavily.

"What are you doing?" I whisper.

"What am I doing?" He laughs manically and throws his head back. "What am I doing?" He repeats slamming his hand against the wall, making me jump. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" I shake my head. His normally sea green eyes are now an almost black green. "I feel like I should be in a psycho ward. Some days I hate you. Sometimes I hate you so much and everything you do and I can't explain it! But other days I love you so much. So much so that it feels like you keep my world turning, that you're the only thing that keeps me alive. I hate being like this!" He shouts and turns away from me, picking up the beside table and smashing it against the wall. He smashes it again and again until it's just prices of wood. I find my voice.