bitter || zarry stylik

fifty

hey lovelies

I hope your day is full of love and light

ily

my suggestion for media is just one book, because it's one of my favourite books of all time and it's very simplistic and perfect :

> how to love by thich nhat hahn

-

"Alright, Zayn. You almost done in there? Because we should leave within the next hour or so," Harry calls through the door of the bathroom. He tilts his head to the side a little, and adjusts the waistband of his jeans. They're a bit loose, but Harry doesn't think it's because he's lost weight. They're probably stretching out or something.

Harry didn't want Zayn to be alone in the bathroom, but he didn't want to push it. "Yep, I'll be out in a few minutes."

Harry nods a little, and refills Dusty's food dish. Don't worry, he's called Louis to come visit with Dusty and give him some food and water while Zayn and Harry are away.

Harry hums a little as he tidies up the flat, and nods his head to the beat of the song in his head. As he finishes up, Zayn comes out of the bathroom, with messily gelled hair and dark circles under his eyes. "Alright, Zaynie? You doing okay?"

Zayn nods, but his eyes don't seem to register what's happening. "Yup. Did you finish packing?"

Harry nods, and kisses Zayn's cheek softly. "Yes, we're all ready. I love you."

Zayn smiles a little, and kisses Harry's chin quickly. "I love you too. Now, we should probably get going soon, right? I'm dying to see-"

Zayn regrets saying it as soon as it comes out of his mouth, and he pinches the bridge of his nose to keep from crying. "Fuck. Um, I'm excited to see my family. I'm all packed, so do you want to get out of here?"

Harry nods solemnly, and grabs their bags from the bedroom. Zayn's is a modest and reasonably sized briefcase, whereas Harry originally went with a bedazzled duffel, before switching to something less tawdry. He doesn't want to draw attention away from the Maliks; not today.

Harry waves goodbye to Dusty, who's perched on the arm of the couch, and then he follows Zayn out into the hall to the lift. Outside, Harry loads their bags into the boot of his car, while Zayn sulks in the passenger seat.

Harry closes the back door, and fishes around in his enormous pockets in search of the CD he'd made after Zayn had fallen asleep. He finds it after a few seconds, and slips it into CD player. Zayn furrows his brows, and gestures to the stereo. "What's this?"

Harry shrugs. "I made a mix of emotional songs that I think could make you feel a little better. They're the songs I listen to when I'm upset. And if they don't do anything, then at least you'll have a distraction. Yeah?"

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose again - Harry has been noticing that he's doing that a lot as of late - and lets out a shaky breath. "Harry, I know you mean well, but I can't imagine that a selection of cheery music will change anything. My sister committed suicide, Harry. There's no getting around that."

Harry tries not to look hurt by Zayn's harsh tone, and notices that his voice doesn't waver when he talks about his sister's passing. Even though that may seem like a step in the direction towards recovery, Harry can't shake the ominous feeling that something much worse is coming. "Okay. I know. I'm sorry, Zaynie, I just thought-"

"I know what you thought! Okay? Just- Just accept that I'm feeling sad and fucked up, alright? There's nothing you can do!"

Harry wants to curl into a ball and let Zayn's sharp words bounce off of him. He stares at the dusty dashboard; the muted stereo; the cup holder, sticky from spelled tea. Anywhere but Zayn. Harry bites the inside of his cheek, and tries to ignore the tears threatening to spill out. "I know that, Zayn. But I'm trying to do all I can to make this even the slightest bit more manageable, because that's what I'm positive you would do. I'm sure of it. You would hold me and rub my back and eat kale with me, even though you hate it, and we would listen to some trashy songs that are very likeable, and you-you'd be there for me. And we'd survive it, together."