Chapter 13

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Harry's POV:

Waking up, the first thing I heard was the soft strumming of a guitar. I got out of bed, wincing at the small stab of pain that shot through me. As I walked down the hall, a voice started to mix with the guitar.

"Oh, I had a lot to say...Was thinking, on my time away. I missed you and things weren't the same..." I quietly walked down the stairs, the singing growing louder and once I reached the bottom, I stood in the doorway of the living room. My heart lurched at the sight I was greeted with. Zayn was sitting in front of the window, singing and playing the guitar with red, puffy eyes. He didn't seem to see or hear me so I just stood there, listening.

 "I'm sorry I'm bad, I'm sorry you're blue. I'm sorry about all the things I did to you. And I know I can't take it back." As I listened, I could feel the tears burn my eyes. I've never heard him sing or play... He always thought he wasn't good enough. 

 "I love how you kiss, I love all your sounds, And baby the way you make my world go round, and I just wanted to say.. I'm sorry.." He paused, taking a deep, shaky breath and continued singing. "This time, I think I'm to b-blame..." He stopped and let the guitar slide to the ground as he pinched the bridge of his nose, tears falling down his cheeks. "I'm sorry..." He sobbed and I quickly walked over to him. Before he could look up, I pulled him into my arms and hugged him. "I'm sorry!' He blurted out in a strangled cry as he buried his face in my shoulder and clutched my shirt.

 "Sh... Sh.. Zayn, it's ok. It's not your fault." I said, rubbing his back.

 "But it is. I... I r-r.." He cried harder, unable to finish his sentence, the tears pouring down his cheeks into a puddle on his lap.

"Sh..." I cooed. Suddenly, he pulled back and stared at me.

"How can you even let me touch you? Why are you being so  nice to me?" His breathing was rapid and shaky. 

"Because I don't blame you." I said sternly, hoping he'd realize that I wasn't upset with him, even though I probably should've been. He bit his lip and took a deep breath.

"If I EVER do anything like that again, for god knows what reason, p-please. Hit me, kick me out, call the police, ANYTHING!" Zayn said, grabbing my face in his hands. I wiped his tears away and nodded.

"Okay." He looked at the ground, sniffling.

 "I'm sorry I'm so damaged." He whispered and a tear fell down my cheek from his words.

"It's not your fault, Zayn. Your dad caused all of this." I said, anger filling me at the fact that Zayn blamed himself for the way he was. Although, he'd always done that for as long as I could remember. "Come on. Let's go watch a movie and relax. You look tired." He nodded and I half carried, half dragged him to the couch. We laid down, his back to my stomach and my arm around his waist, holding him close to me. Zayn flipped through the channels but I wasn't paying attention to what he picked. I kissed his temple and he snuggled closer into me.

"Thank you." He whispered and I couldn't hold back my smile.

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