Estranged • h.s.

07

My feet drag along the tiled hallway the second I'm off the elevator. Zayn's building of condominiums is not very tall, really only having 15 total units, but luxurious all the same. His way of subtly showing off his wealth would annoy me if my mind weren't completely occupied with Cecily. I'm all determination as my fist pounds on his door, the one unit on the top floor.

I was nice last night, patient even. After feeling completely deflated as everyone looked at me like the villain, I did the right thing and went home. Thoughts weighing on me, Niall and Louis relaxed the second I walked into our new home, thankful I hadn't done anything stupid.

I hadn't even taken it all in, barely glimpsing at the marbled counters or crisp black walls before I shut myself into one of the bedrooms and attempted to sleep. It took hours, but I eventually slept, getting three before I shot out of bed.

This morning I don't plan on being so dismissible. I want answers.

Zayn's half-asleep figure opens the door, looking at me with a glare and disheveled hair. I barrel into his apartment, ignoring the fact that he's probably wishing I wouldn't.

"Harry, I'm running on little sleep."

"I don't give a fuck. I was nice and I waited all night, just like you asked. Now tell me what the fuck is going on."

He sighs, slamming the door before walking into his kitchen. I follow, prepared to pester him. He rummages through drawers and cabinets, pulling out two mugs. He gestures one at me and I nod, leaning onto the counter.

I watch him in silence as he gets the machine going, brewing quickly and the scent of the coffee hits me.

"How long?" I ask, tired of waiting.

He rests his hands on the counter, back to me, leaning into it with a sigh.

"It really isn't my place, mate. You should talk to her, in due time." He finishes the sentence looking over his shoulder at me, a silent warning that I need to be patient.

"Well, no one will tell me how to fucking see her. You don't want me seeing her while she's working, and no one is willing to help me out here."

He turns, folding his arms over his chest as he leans into the counter. I cross my arms, standing comfortably.

"Maybe we should give it some more time, and I'll answer any questions you have when she's ready for you to know."

My jaw flexes, a flurry of emotions barreling through me as I attempt to level with him, and myself.

Deep down, I know he's right. That I should be more patient, and let her come to me when she feels it's time. But I've never been the good guy, and I've spent too much time killing myself day in and day out just for the possibility of hearing her voice again. And not through a fucking microphone from another room.

I need to hold her, hear her, and see her. It feels like I need her more than I need oxygen in my lungs.

"You were my friend long before she came along. Why can't you see what this is doing to me?" I ask, my eye contact with him faltering as I feel familiar emotions crack through my tone.

"I see it. Trust me, Harry, I understand the pain you're feeling as best as I can. But I'm in the middle of something much bigger than you know. I-." He sighs, unlocking his arms to scrub his face with his hands.

"I can't break the trust I've built with her. I'm sorry."

"What about the trust between you and me? Hm? I've known you since I was fucking sixteen years old, Zayn. For eleven years I have counted on you to have my back, and now you're stabbing me? What did I do that was so bad, why am I the bad guy?"