Midnight Memories

1

The crowd's roar still buzzed in Harry's ears as he pulled off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the hotel room floor. It was late, way past midnight, but the adrenaline from the show still pulsed through his veins. He should've been tired, but sleep was the last thing on his mind.

Zayn was sitting by the window, quiet, the glow of the city lights flickering across his face. He was always like this after shows, slipping into his own world while the rest of the boys laughed and relived the best moments of the night.

"Crazy out there tonight, yeah?" Harry broke the silence, his voice light but probing. He wanted to pull Zayn back, if only for a moment.

Zayn didn't respond immediately, just took a slow drag from his cigarette, eyes fixed on something far beyond the glass. "Yeah. Crazy." But his voice was flat, distant, as if the excitement of the stage had already faded into the background, leaving nothing but exhaustion.

Harry crossed the room, settling on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. There was something different about Zayn lately—something more than just the usual post-show quiet. It had been months since Harry had really seen him, really felt that spark between them, the one they never talked about but was always there, simmering just beneath the surface.

"You good?" Harry's question hung in the air longer than he expected, tension winding its way between them like a thread waiting to snap.

Zayn flicked his cigarette into an ashtray and finally turned to meet Harry's gaze. His dark eyes were unreadable, but there was something there, something Harry couldn't quite grasp. "Just tired," Zayn said, standing up and stretching, his movements slow, deliberate. "Think I'll crash early."

"Right..." Harry forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Long day tomorrow."

Zayn gave a half-hearted nod before slipping past him toward the door. He paused for a moment, hand hovering over the handle, as if there was something more he wanted to say, but in the end, he just muttered a quiet, "Night."

"Night, mate," Harry replied, watching the door close behind him. The room felt emptier without Zayn in it, the silence heavier.

For a few minutes, Harry just sat there, staring at the space Zayn had left behind, his chest tight with something he couldn't explain. He wanted to shake it off, tell himself he was just imagining things, but deep down he knew. Something had shifted between them—something he didn't know how to fix.

Later, after the others had long fallen asleep, Harry found himself wandering down the hallway. He didn't have a destination in mind, not really. He just wanted... something. Maybe a conversation that didn't end in silence. Maybe Zayn's voice without the weight of exhaustion clinging to it.

As he passed Zayn's door, he stopped, his hand hovering just over the wood. He could hear the soft hum of music coming from the other side, faint but familiar. His chest tightened. He should knock. He should go in and make Zayn talk, make him open up, break through whatever wall had risen between them.

But instead, Harry's hand dropped to his side. He sighed, taking a step back. Not tonight.