Midnight Memories

2

The next morning felt different. The rush of another day, another city, another stage filled the tour bus as it sped down the highway, but Harry couldn't shake the weight of last night. Zayn had been gone before Harry even woke up, leaving no sign he'd ever been in the room at all.

Louis was sitting across from him, feet kicked up, strumming his guitar with a carefree smile as Niall sang along, voice cracking with laughter. Liam was at the front, chatting with the driver about their next stop. And then there was Zayn, sitting alone by the window, earphones in, staring out at the endless blur of passing landscape.

Harry had tried to join the others, laugh with Louis, but his attention kept flickering back to Zayn. Tired—that's all Zayn had said last night. But Harry knew better. Zayn wasn't just tired, he was slipping away, and every time Harry reached out, he felt like he was losing his grip.

Without thinking, Harry got up and crossed the bus, dropping into the seat next to Zayn. The familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes hit him as he leaned back, watching Zayn carefully. Zayn didn't pull his earphones out, didn't acknowledge him right away. Harry's stomach churned with unease.

"Hey," Harry said softly, nudging Zayn's arm.

Zayn finally turned, pulling one earphone out, his expression neutral. "Yeah?"

Harry hesitated, the words he'd been holding onto all morning dying in his throat. He wanted to ask a million things—Are you okay? Where were you this morning? Why are you shutting me out? But instead, he just said, "You up for rehearsal later?"

Zayn shrugged, eyes flicking back to the window. "I guess."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, trying not to let the distance between them sink any deeper. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Zayn's jaw tightened, just for a second, before he nodded. "Yeah, I know."

But there was no warmth in his voice, no sign of the easy closeness they used to share. Harry's chest felt tight again, the same way it had last night. This wasn't them, this wasn't the way it was supposed to be.

Before he could say anything more, Louis called from the back of the bus, "Oi, Harry! You joining us or what?"

Harry glanced back at Zayn, waiting for something—anything—a look, a word, something that told him they were still okay. But Zayn just slid his earphone back in, eyes distant as ever.

"Go on, mate," Zayn muttered, voice barely audible. "I'm good."

But Harry didn't believe him. Not for a second.

Reluctantly, Harry stood up, his gaze lingering on Zayn before he made his way back to the others. Louis threw an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into the banter, and for a moment, Harry tried to lose himself in the noise. But no matter how loud the laughter got, he couldn't shake the silence hanging between him and Zayn.

Later that afternoon, during rehearsal, Harry's mind was still stuck in a loop. Zayn had barely spoken more than a few words to him since this morning. He was there, singing along, hitting every note, every step, but there was something missing—something that made Harry's skin crawl with unease.

Between takes, Zayn slipped away, disappearing backstage without a word. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He followed, heart pounding as he found Zayn leaning against a wall, eyes closed, as if he was waiting for this.

"What's going on with you, Zayn?" Harry's voice was sharper than he intended, frustration bubbling over.

Zayn opened his eyes, something dark and unreadable in them. "Nothing's going on. Just leave it."

"No," Harry shot back, stepping closer. "You've been off for weeks. You barely talk to me anymore. I'm not imagining this."

Zayn exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. "Harry, it's not about you. I've got... my own stuff. I don't need you to fix it."

Harry's stomach twisted at those words. "I'm not trying to fix you, Zayn. I'm just—"

"Trying to what?" Zayn interrupted, his voice low, laced with something that made Harry's heart clench. "What do you want from me, Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth, but the words wouldn't come. What did he want? He didn't even know anymore. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were, before everything started falling apart.

Zayn's gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, it seemed like he was about to say something—something important, something Harry had been waiting to hear for so long. But instead, Zayn shook his head, turning away.

"Just let it go, mate," Zayn muttered before walking off, leaving Harry standing there alone, his chest aching with something he couldn't name.