Heartstrings ➳ z.m.

twenty-five - zayn

Chapter Twenty-Five – Zayn

            “You guys are like, perfect for each other,” Harry drawls, lazily cocked back in his chair as he tosses a tennis ball in the air, “but you don’t get along at all. Quite the annoying couple.”

            Zayn snorts at that, shaking his head. “I just… I want to see her, but at the same time I’m not trying to do anything to make it worse.”

            “You see how well that worked out the last time, right? The whole ‘let’s not act upon these feelings’ thing. Made you spend five years in silence,” Niall adds, shooting Zayn a look, glancing from his phone. “You really need to explain everything, before she finds out herself. She thinks you’re just ignoring her.”

            And Zayn knows that his mates are right, but it’s still hard for him. They don’t understand—and they probably never will; nobody does—Zayn’s way of thinking.

            Everything he had ever known collapsed in shambles around him. His entire life had been ruined by that stupid party. He couldn’t go anywhere without fingers pointed at him and muted whispers of ‘that’s the guy… the one with Ali… the one who was there the night she died?’ following him.

            And that was hard. Excruciating.

            It hurt to know that the only reason people sat with you at lunch was because there were no more empty tables, and they only included you in on a group project because the teacher wouldn’t allow you to be left out.

            He felt invisible.

            He almost preferred to be bullied than to be faded into the remnants of one’s memories. Nobody wanted anything to do with him.

            And Zayn’s ashamed to admit it, but there were multiple occasions where he had tried to end his life.

            And the boys didn’t understand.

            And maybe it’s because they hadn’t known Zayn when he was full of life and young and stupid, but still, they didn’t quite get it.

            They didn’t understand that Skylar was the really the only one who had wanted to be around Zayn—even the boys had been forced to know him.

            And that’s still a new feeling to him, and maybe he just really doesn’t want to mess this up, because truly, honestly, he does love her, it’s just that sometimes he doesn’t quite get it himself.

            “Zayn…” Harry calls, and he looks up to his mate with a worried look on his face, head nodding toward the door.

            Zayn looks that way, and he can’t say that he’s necessarily shocked, but he’s confused.

            Because Skylar’s glaring at him with a gaze of a thousand suns and he really, really doesn’t know why.

            “I’m just going to head out,” Niall mumbles, and then he’s leaving through the door that Skylar just entered.

            “Me too. Call me if you need anything.”

            And then Harry’s gone too.

            “Why didn’t you tell me that people were saying things about me?”

            And Zayn wants to tell her, he does, but he has a feeling that she wouldn’t get it either and so instead he tells her, “Because it’s hurtful.” And that’s not the reason at all and perhaps Skylar knows it because she wrinkles her nose and glares at him harder.

            And Zayn has a feeling that it’s a really horrible time to be thinking this, but he kind of wants to kiss her. Not because he doesn’t want to fight—he’s too above that cliché, at least—but because he hasn’t seen or really talked to his girlfriend in a week.

            “And you’re not even listening now!”

            “M’sorry,” Zayn tells her, and he stands up, running a hand through his hair.

            “What are you thinking about?”

            Zayn considers lying to her—nothing, I was listening, I promise—but then he remembers how well that worked the last time. “I was thinking about how I wanted to kiss you.”

            Skylar blinks at him, because she clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. Then she chuckles a bit, shaking her head, pulling Zayn close. “I hate you, still.”

            He nods, snuggling up to her hair. “I know.”

            “Really,” she sighs, melting into his embrace. She dots a small kiss on his lips, hardly noticeable but enough to set his skin on fire. “I’m still mad.”

            “I’m sure.”

            “You’re annoying,” Skylar adds, “and stupid.” She rests her forehead along his so that they’re close enough for their noses to brush, eyelashes to flutter together, hearts to intertwine together in one rapid beat. “But I still love you, sadly.”

            “Rather unfortunate.” Zayn’s beyond words now, and he wonders why that it, since Skylar’s already his.

            Not that he’s complaining.

            “I really do want to know why you did it,” Skylar tells him, and he nods, breathing in her scent.

            “Yeah.” And he’s probably going to tell her in a little bit, when his heart is done leaping out of his chest, and his girlfriend isn’t so close to him that he can barely breathe, let alone think.

            But for now, he’s just going to stay like this, lips intertwined, fingers laced together, heartstrings tangled as one.

            Just for a bit.