My Beautiful King

Chapter Thirty Five Part 2

I laughed. I laughed until my cheeks were sore. But then I stopped once I saw Zayn's stoic face. And I frowned. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Ashley, I'm serious. And I still do."

I snorted without thought. "Fuck off, Zayn. I may be laughing but it's not funny. What's the real reason you're a huge twat?"

His face was deathly serious. So serious that it made me angry. "I'm telling you right now, Ashley, I do. I... I love you."

"Don't say shit like that." I ordered bluntly. "Don't ever say shit like that if you don't mean it!"

"I do mean it!"

"YOU DON'T!" I roared as I slammed my fist onto the table, causing all the fallen sweets to jump. My breaths were coming fast and furious. How dare he come out with words like that? Didn't he feel like he had said enough to destroy me?

"Look, babe," Zayn took a deep breath and attempted to take my hand in his. "I know this will be hard to take in-"

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I screamed as I shoved his fingers away. "Stop saying things, it's not funny-"

"Ashley-"

"You have a TWISTED sense of humour," I concluded as I arose from my seat. "You're just as sick as you were all this time. In fact, you're WORSE. No sane person in love would ever torture the person they were in love with."

"Ashley, hear me out-"

"FUCK NO."

"Please-"

"GET OUT." I screeched. "GET OUT. I won't have you in my house messing me around... Using words like love. You don't know what love is!" And then I burst into noisy tears.

Zayn bundled me into his warm arms, whispering my name and several comforting phrases, stroking my hair softly. I tried to push him off but I couldn't; my muscles were relaxing against his body heat and I was too weak. Everything about the way he was touching me reminded me of the way we once were, and how much I craved it. And how those good memories always slipped into my thoughts and dreams at night, when the barrier of my concious mind was down.

However, those memories didn't all come sweet; they were usually accompanied by Zayn's bitter ringing words and all the terrible ramifications I'd suffered to be with him. All the searing pain...

"Get off." I whispered between sobs. "Please. P-please, I can't breathe properly. Get off."

Zayn lifted his arms away from my body, fingers lingering next to mine. I swatted them away. I sat back down onto the stool and buried my face in my hands.

"Zayn." I mumbled in an unusually deep voice. "Please t-tell me everything you just said w-was a lie."

"It wasn't."

My body shook with another tremor of sobs. Shit. I wanted it to be true so that we could be together, but needed it to be false so that I could discard him. I could feel large width of Zayn's hand splayed against my back and it made me want to be sick. Because I liked it. And then I hated it. Shit, I didn't know what to feel...

"Ashley," Zayn's dulcet Yorkshire accent filled my ears and I attempted pathetically to block it out. "Can I explain? Can I at least explain and then I'll leave?"

There's that big explanation I had wanted. Did I want it? Did I really want to know the demented thoughts in Zayn's head? I nodded slightly and raised my tearstained face to look at his.

Zayn's forehead was creased in pain. "Listen, Ashley. I um..."

"Was the thing about being with me to fuck a complete loser true?" I interrupted suddenly. I shoved my hangnail between my teeth to smother a hiccup. Zayn looked down at me pitifully.