Opposites

t h i r t y - o n e

Melody

Do you know that feeling when you miss someone too much that you actually want to cry? That's what was happening to me this past week. It was only one week, and I miss him like crazy. It's hard to believe that you can actually miss someone this much. They say when you are missing someone, they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for Zayn to miss me as much as I'm missing him. That's the worst way to miss someone, knowing that they don't even miss you. Knowing that they miss your 'kisses'.

I sigh and put on my best smile anyway then get out of the cab. Harry gets our bags from the trunk then approaches me and gives me my suitcase.

"Home sweet home." I grin.

"This will never be home."

My smile falters at Harry's comment. My heart tightens, and my mind fills with confused questions. What does he mean?

I shake my head as he gets the keys out and opens the door while I take a quick look at Zayn's flat, and see that the lights are on. He's home. Good.

We enter our flat, and I let my suitcase fall to the ground then sigh in exhaustion. I directly head towards the kitchen for a glass of water to soothe my sore throat.

When I open the cabin, I hear Harry's voice booming through the whole flat.

I call back, "What is it?"

He appears in the kitchen seconds later.

"Get your bag off the ground."

"Alright, I will. I'll drink and–" I get cut off by Harry's stern tone.

"Now," He heavily breathes then says calmly, "Please."

With a shake of my head, I walk past him to where I left my bag. I mutter under my breath, "What is wrong with him?"

I go upstairs into my room, sighing I place the bag on my bed. It's definitely hell living with Harry.

+ + + + +

I knock on the door of Harry's room, and I hear a muffled 'yeah'. I enter to see Harry's face buried into his pillow.

He turns around, and faces me.

"I'm going over to Zayn's. Don't wait for me for dinner." I say hesitantly, and turn back around.

"Melody."

I huff in irritation. "Yes?"

"Take care." Harry replies, and I sigh in relief.

I nod shortly and then make my way swiftly downstairs. I throw a piece of gum in my mouth, and head outside.

The cold air of December hits my face, and I regret not bringing a jacket. It's getting a bit chilly.

I cross the street and make sure that the lights are still on to know that Zayn is still home.

I take a deep breath, and ring the doorbell. I wait for about thirty seconds, and the door opens slowly. My eyes lock with Zayn's and his wide in shock. My heart quickens, and I stride forward.