Midnight Memories

4

Harry couldn't get Zayn's words out of his head. They played on a loop, repeating over and over, sinking deeper into his chest with every passing second.

"There is no 'us,' Harry. Not like that."

It was the only thing he could think about as he sat in the cramped dressing room before the show, surrounded by the chaos of their crew preparing for another night on stage. Louis and Niall were joking around as usual, their voices rising above the din, but Harry barely registered them. Liam was going over the setlist with their manager, his face all business. And then there was Zayn—quiet, off in the corner, staring at his phone, completely detached from the world around him.

Harry's eyes flicked over to him for what felt like the hundredth time that day, hoping for some sign that last night had meant something to Zayn. That maybe Zayn regretted what he'd said, or that he was at least thinking about it.

But Zayn never looked up.

Harry leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his curls with a frustrated sigh. He felt like he was coming apart at the seams, all of the things he'd kept bottled up for months now on the verge of spilling over. Everything was unraveling too quickly, and he didn't know how to stop it.

Just then, Louis plopped down next to him, tossing a water bottle into Harry's lap. "You alright, mate? You've been a bit spacey today."

Harry forced a smile, hoping Louis wouldn't dig any deeper. "Yeah, just tired."

Louis raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "You sure it's not something else? You've barely said a word to anyone since we got here."

Harry's stomach twisted. Louis had always been sharp when it came to reading him. "It's nothing," Harry said, too quickly. "Just got a lot on my mind, I guess."

Louis glanced toward Zayn, then back to Harry. He didn't say anything, but the knowing look in his eyes was enough to make Harry's heart pound.

Before Louis could push further, the door swung open and their manager called for everyone to start getting ready for soundcheck. Harry stood up quickly, relieved for the distraction, but as they made their way to the stage, he couldn't shake the feeling of Louis' gaze still on him.

Soundcheck was a blur. Harry went through the motions, singing his parts, hitting the notes, but his mind was a thousand miles away. Every time Zayn's voice harmonized with his, Harry's chest tightened, the memory of last night clawing at him. Zayn was right there, inches away, but it felt like an ocean stretched between them.

By the time soundcheck was over, Harry felt completely drained. He lingered on the stage while the others filtered out, the noise of the arena fading into silence. He needed a moment alone, just to breathe, to think.

But when he turned around, Zayn was still there.

Zayn stood at the edge of the stage, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast. For a second, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt thick, heavy with all the things they hadn't said.

Harry's heart pounded as he stepped closer, every nerve in his body on edge. "Zayn..."

Zayn looked up, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, Harry saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something raw, vulnerable. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same guarded look Zayn had been wearing for weeks.

"What's going on with you?" Harry asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You keep pulling away, and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to—"

"Harry, stop," Zayn interrupted, his voice tight. "We've had this conversation already."

"No, we haven't," Harry insisted, his frustration spilling out. "You keep shutting me down, shutting me out. I'm just trying to—"

"To what?" Zayn's voice rose, the tension between them snapping. "To fix me? To fix this? There's nothing to fix, Harry. This is just how it is."

Harry swallowed hard, his throat dry. "It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to push me away."

Zayn's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something Harry couldn't quite place—anger, maybe, or something darker. "You think I'm pushing you away because I want to? You think this is easy for me?"

"Then why are you doing it?" Harry shot back, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Why won't you just talk to me, Zayn? You used to—"

"Because I can't!" Zayn snapped, cutting him off. His voice cracked, and for the first time, Harry saw the cracks in Zayn's armor, the weight he'd been carrying for so long. "I can't do this anymore, Harry. I can't keep pretending everything's fine when it's not."

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest. "Pretending what?"

Zayn looked away, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That I belong here. With the band. With... with you."

Harry froze, his mind spinning. "What are you talking about?"

Zayn ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "I'm not like you, Harry. I don't fit in the way you do. This life... it's not me."

Harry's chest tightened. "What does that even mean? We've been through everything together. You belong here just as much as the rest of us."

Zayn shook his head, his eyes filled with sadness. "No, I don't. I haven't felt like I belonged here for a long time."