𝒯𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹

Chapter 𝟛

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

I felt tears well up in the corners of my eyes and, before a tear could slip, I turned away and lunged at my full speed, heading to the exit of the house.

~

I didn't know what the time was, but I reckon it was almost 1 A.M. After walking home, my legs were numb from the pain, as the distance isn't short. Getting my keys from my pockets, I fumbled with them, warily grasping the flat's key.

      Upon entering the flat, I am hit with my raven-haired best mate in the whole world: Zayn Malik. His hands were grasping his hips firmly, his brows furrowed, and his jaw clenched. He stood on the living room's bare floor, his foot aggressively tapping our tiled flat's floor beneath him. He took a deep breath, as though preventing himself from snapping at me and scolding me mercilessly.

     "Louis William Tomlinson,"—and I figured I was dead since he never calls me by my full name (including my middle) except when he's extremely angry with me—"where the fuck were you?" 

     His eyes traveled to my shirt, and his angry expression soon turned into a disgusted one.

     "What the fuck is that?" He asked with a grimace.

     Not answering his questions, I headed to the bathroom, aware of Zayn's figure shortly trailing behind me. Taking off my shirt and throwing it in the bathtub contemplating whether I should wash it or throw it away, I glanced back at Zayn, who entered the small bathroom with me since I didn't bother to close the door. I turned the tap on and splashed some water on my torso until I was satisfied with how the disgusting substance was away.

While washing the vomit away, I thought back to the events of the night, going through every action once more, only causing myself more mental torture over the fact that, no matter how hard I try, I will never get over him. It's simply so hard when he made me feel like the most special creature on this Earth and even made me forget about my insecurities by constantly assuring me that I was beautiful. Well, I guess that was all a lie. Him showering me with praises and all, distracting me from finding out about his disloyalty to me and to our relationship. I trusted him. That only makes me realize how shit of a world we're living in, trusting people completely unworthy of the trust we put in them, only to leave us scathed and hurt.

It makes me think how fake people are, like him telling me how much he adored me, while God only knows how many other people received the same amount of praise and expression of love. Coming out of my shell and dating him was a bold move from my side, hurrying to trust people when just a while before, I had yet another boyfriend, who treated me like shit, and it took a whole lot of bravery for me to break up with him.

Needless to say, I was broken; engulfed in sorrow by the first breakup I went through ever (first boyfriend, too, for the record,). My family was there for me, comforting me and reminding me of how much of a great person I am. But that didn't magically just make it better; I was still heartbroken.

     People do not deserve the amount of faith and dedication we put in them.

Then, I met Zayn. And, oh, God bless Zayn. He was truly the friend I needed in the state I was in. Always looking out for me, Zayn perfectly did his role as my very best friend. Though I am the older one,(only mere months though) Zayn treats me like I'm younger. Like staying sober on a night out to the bar to get me home safely (which I'm thankful for since I like getting wasted), my mom, as I could hardly hear in my state, thanks him and carries my loose body towards my bedroom, somehow bearing with my drunken jokes and giggles. Waking up, I find messages from Zayn, asking about me and my hangover, usually followed by an offer of hanging out, which I don't decline.