I Don't Want To Live Forever

2.

Harry is watching Taylor and Zayn from the other side of the club, and he wishes he could blame alcohol for his current jealous-ridden state.

The blonde model is once again standing next to him, and he looks down at her, lowering his head to whisper something in her ear. She beams at him, turns, and grabs one of his hands.

She guides him through masses of dancing people and narrow corridors until they make it to a secluded dark corner. Soon, she is all over him—kissing him. 

However, her lips feel different, Taylor's softness still fresh on his mouth, so he moves his lips down her neck, and her perfumed skin tastes overly different too. He curses inwardly and rushes to open her blouse, focusing on her nipples over her bra. She moans as he bites and wets the fabric, sucking. Her hands find his trousers button then. And she giggles as she reaches the zip, the sound gritting at him, and he stops her, grabbing her wrist.

"I am sorry," he tells her, avoiding her gaze. 

He swallows. "Not here, yeah?"  he tries looking up at her, noting her shocked and pissed expression. 

He takes a step back, fixing his trousers and his hair. He takes the phone out of his pocket then, and unblocking it, he points it in her direction. "I will call you." 

She studies him for a second, probably torn between telling him to go fuck himself and giving in. But ultimately, his reputation and his looks tend to rise above, so she grabs it and punches her phone number in, giving it back to him. 

"Don't take too long," she tells him, walking past him as she buttons her blouse, and he sighs, rubbing his face with his hand.

He searches the crowd, but there is no sign of Taylor's gold number, and he frowns. He walks around the dancefloor, scanning the room, until he reaches the VIP section, only Louis left there, chatting to a group of people he doesn't know and does not care to.

"Where is Zayn?", he asks him, "left", Louis eyes him, "you alright?". "Just need some air".

To Tay S: Babe, Where are you?.

Sent.

Delivered.

Read.

No answer.

To Tay S: Are you seeing this, why are you not responding?

Sent.

Delivered.

Read.

No answer.

To Tay S: Look, I get it, you're upset. But I Just want to know if you are ok babe.

Sent.

Delivered.

Read.

No Answer.

"Fuck", he is pulling at his hair now, waiting for his car, at the back entrance of the club. He could show up at her house but they would not let him in if she has not informed them in advance, and he does not even know if she is there. "Fuck this, and fuck Zayn", he mumbles to himself.

He scrolls down his phone contact list, Tay S, he presses call. 

A smiley picture of her fills up the screen. He winces. Phone rings, she has no voicemail, no answer. He tries again, as he gets in the car. The driver is waiting for an address. He blocks his phone cursing and gives him their hotel name.

Niall and Liam are animatedly discussing a football game, sharing a sofa, when Harry bursts in the presidential suite they use as their living space, "where the fuck is Zayn?".

The four eyes stare at him, taken aback by his tone. "Was he not with you?", Liam responds calmly, eyeing him. "Are you okay, mate?" 

Harry breathes heavily then, his hands in his hair. "You look like you're losing your shit, and Louis?"  Niall asks.

Harry realises then he has completely forgotten about Louis, not even told him he was leaving the club.

He bolts on his way to Zayn's room. Niall and Liam follow him along the corridor, eyeing each other, sensing something is not right.

"Open the door", Harry insists, knocking on it. "It's 3 am, Harry, he is probably asleep", Niall interjects. "What has happened?" Liam asks then. And Harry bangs on the door then, with an open hand.

A minute later, a calm and somehow surprised Zayn opens the door, and Harry pushes through to let himself in the room. 

Liam talks then, addressing Zayn, "what the fuck", but Zayn only shrugs in response.

"Happy?", Zayn tells Harry once he has finished scanning the room.

 "You are plastered mate, and imagining things, you should go to bed".

Harry stares at him for a brief moment, feeling suddenly foolish. "Yeah, sorry", he says as he walks past him to leave the room, and walks straight into his own one, banging the door.

Niall and Liam stare at Zayn, his eyes questioning. "I don't know, good night guys", he mutters and he closes his door.

Zayn returns to lay on his bed, and grabs his phone from the bedside table. He reads the two messages again.

Taylor Swift: Hey, it's Taylor. Just wanted to say thank you again for what you said earlier.

Taylor Swift: With you not being the talkative type, I thought you wouldn't mind if I texted you. After all, texting doesn't require talking, it's more like observing 🙂

He gazes at the door Harry has just walked out of, in thought, and then back to his phone in his hands, he types.

Zayn: I meant what I said. Cool with texting, it's a bit like silent conversations, right?.

He presses send, and realises she is typing an answer already.

Taylor Swift: Yes!🙂 , glad we are on the same page. It's nice to finally meet you, Z.

Zayn: Likewise, Taylor. Maybe switch off this phone of yours tonight though if you wanna get some rest.

Taylor Swift: Will have to. I am sorry, you are the ones having to put up with him now.

Zayn: He is fine. Just pissed. And it is not your fault, this is on him. You look after yourself.

Taylor Swift: Thank you, yet again. 🙂

Zayn: No need to thank me. I'm here if you need to talk or just enjoy a quiet conversation.

Taylor Swift: That sounds nice. 🙂 I appreciate it, Z.

Zayn: Now, get some rest. You've got a big day ahead, dealing with him tomorrow.

Taylor Swift: *Sigh* true. Goodnight, Z.

Zayn: Goodnight, Taylor. Sleep well.