𝒯𝑜 𝒷𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝒹

Chapter 𝟜

   ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

      "Fuck off," I replied, joining him in the laughter.

~

After a peaceful while spent with Zayn, mainly full of laughing, we realized how late it was and decided to go to sleep. Zayn once more hugged me, reassuring me that he'll always be there for me and that I was and will never be a bother to him, and I couldn't be more grateful for him.

      Upon entering my small, uninteresting room, I turned off the lights and jumped onto the bed, only now realizing how tired I am. For a while, I didn't change my stance, just laying on the bed (even on top of the comforter) slowly drifting into sleep. Sleep nearly overtook me when, all of a sudden, I shivered, teeth clattering, only now realizing that (a) my torso is bare and (b) the window is open. I muttered a curse, blaming myself for opening the window earlier today, though not remembering exactly when.

The moon's dim light laminated the insides of the room, casting a soft light onto the Nirvana poster I was once given on a birthday. My brown guitar, which I especially saved a big amount of money to buy, lay untouched, its strings casting a shadow over the material. A thick layer of dust lay on top of the guitar, and I remembered playing a couple of songs to Maverick. Nostalgia hit me as I remember the songs I used to write and the melodies I used to strum. Ambitions and talents, long-forgotten, blown away by my ex-boyfriend.

He was the first to know about my secret talent if I call it one. I once mustered some bravery and played a song to him. I poured all my attention, trying to hit notes correctly and strum the right strings. If I can remember correctly, I did a good job with it. His reply, I can clearly remember, was a scoff. He said the lyrics were shit and the strumming was ear-sore. He topped it with a 'You know I love you. I'm being honest with you and it's for the best,' and a kiss on the lips, which now sounds so disgusting to me.

     I remembered smiling and kissing back, holding in salty tears that prickled my eyes slightly, warning me they might slip any moment.

On the night of the same day, I lay on the floor of this very room, completely engulfed by sorrow. Crying that my dream from many years had just been shattered.

Right now, sitting in my room, months apart from the incident, I decided that I won't let that moron control me, especially since we're not together anymore. I got up, ignoring the cold atmosphere, heading to my guitar.

I walked back to my spot on the bed with the guitar. Checking the time, I grab my phone from my pocket. 2:56. I found two new messages from Zayn. I chuckle, thinking of how he never sleeps immediately: he always uses his phone for an amount of time before sleeping.

Z: yo dickhead
Z: tomorrow we have to go out somewhere
Z: u seem so sad lately
Z: I decided I would be the good friend I obviously am and hang out with u someqhere
Z: somewhee*
Z: somehwere*
Z: somewhere*
Z: finally!!
Z: anygays should I invite someone else?
Z: I will invite neil if that's okay with you
Z: goodnight

      The messages had me laughing for a while. After I calmed down a little, I unlocked the phone to type a reply, saying that I'm okay with him inviting Niall, which he immediately replied to with another text.

Z: I just called neil and lol the fucker was awake
Z: he agreed and said he will bring two other friends
Z: we don't know them

Me: whats their names??

Z: idk I didn't ask

Me: alright it's fine
Me: goodnight zee

Z: goodnight :)

      I locked my phone, feeling my heart race at the idea of meeting new people. It's been ages since I hung out with people, to begin with, and now I'm supposed to hang out with two strangers. Life is unfair. I reassured my fast-pounding heart that it will be fine as long as I stick to Zayn the whole time.

     The thought made me at ease, so, settling at the thought of sticking to Zayn the whole time, I sigh, grabbing the guitar. I silently hoped Zayn was already somehow asleep by now since he has no idea I play the guitar. He thinks the one in my room is for decoration, which, no offense, is stupid to think that someone saved a lot of money on a valuable instrument just to hang it on their walls.

     I decide to play the one song I still clearly remember the lyrics to. I hesitantly place my hands on the tight strings and start strumming the opening.

Thoughts? x