Zustin - A new start

Does that not seem a little gay to you?

Justin's POV:

Noelle and I head home after the incident at school. She's still a bit confused about why we left so quickly and why Zayn was shouting, though thankfully, she didn't catch what he said. I try to keep things light, chatting and singing with her like everything is fine.

When we get home, we slip into more comfortable clothes and freshen up. I fix Noelle a snack, and we settle on the couch to watch some Disney, our (her) usual way to unwind.

But then, there's a knock on the door.

I get up, feeling a knot in my stomach, and glance through the peephole. It's Zayn. My first instinct is to ignore it, but then I hear him say, "I heard your footsteps Justin. Can you please open the door?"

I hesitate, take a deep breath, and finally open it. The sadness in his eyes hits me hard.

"What do you want?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Can I come in so we can talk?" he asks, sounding almost desperate.

"No, you can't. Just tell me what you want Zayn," I reply, blocking the door to keep him from seeing inside.

He looks down, taking a deep breath before speaking. "I don't know what to say Justin. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean what I said about Noelle. I know she's not dumb, like fuck you know I know that. She's incredible, and I've loved every minute I've spent with her when I've been here. But I just didn't know how to convince Perrie that we didn't kiss. I'm not gay. I don't even know how it happened."

"We did kiss Zayn. A kiss that YOU initiated," I respond, struggling to hold back my tears. "And I don't know if you noticed, but you got hard, like very fucking hard. Doesn't that seem a little gay to you, or is that just something that happens to you for no reason?"

"I know, I know," he cuts in, his voice cracking. "But I don't understand why it happened. I didn't mean for it to. I'm not gay, and you're not gay, so it doesn't make any fucking sense—"

"I am gay," I interrupt, the words slipping out before I can stop them. I wasn't planning to say that. Not now, not like this.

Zayn freezes, barely able to process what I just said. "Huh? What? You're gay? But you're always surrounded by girls—they all talk about how amazing you are and how much they like you. You can't be gay."

"Yes Zayn, I am gay," I say, my voice quieter now. "Just because someone wants me doesn't mean I want them. I've known I'm gay for a long time. I haven't come out because I didn't see the need to, and I definitely didn't plan on telling you like this." I look down at my feet, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. "That's why I kissed you back."

We stand there in an awkward, heavy silence, both of us avoiding eye contact. The tension is unbearable. Just when I think it can't get any worse, I hear Noelle's footsteps coming toward us. I almost slam the door in Zayn's face to keep her from seeing him, but she's too quick.

"Zayn!" she yells, squeezing past me to run into his arms. He crouches down, catching her in a tight hug.

I gently pull her back. "Baby, Zayn was just leaving, so you can wave goodbye to him," I say, still not looking at Zayn.

Noelle pouts, clearly upset. She looks up at me and simply says, "No."

I try to insist, but she's determined, and we end up in a little back-and-forth. Then she pulls out the ultimate card: "I painted a picture for Zayn! I want him to see it!"

I sigh, feeling my resolve crumble. How can I say no to that?

"Alright, come in for a minute," I mumble, barely meeting Zayn's eyes.

Noelle proudly shows off her paintings, including one where she's drawn the three of us together. (I love her, but let's just say her drawing skills leave a lot to be desired—without her explanation, I would've thought it was some kind of abstract graffiti.) Zayn pretends to recognize it, and when she hands it to him, he looks genuinely touched. That mix of happiness, confusion, and anger bubbles up inside me.

"Baby, can you wait here for a minute? Daddy needs to talk to Zayn alone," I ask her gently. "Maybe you can draw him another picture while we talk?"

She lights up at the idea and immediately starts drawing again.

I turn back to Zayn, my voice firm. "It's time for you to go."

He nods and heads toward the door, but just as he's about to leave, he stops. He looks back at me, his expression serious, like he's trying to figure out what to say, or maybe hoping I'll say something first.