Rebuilding Zerrie

Trouble

KLOE'S P.O.V.

The huge bag was so stuffed, but barely had any clothes in it. I knew why. Kiefer didn't pack anything less than thick wool sweater and polyester trousers. He wanted to make sure that I was well-clothed, or rather, well-covered in the presence of Harry Styles, who, I supposed he wasn't the biggest fan of at the moment.

I was able to clothe myself (with much difficulty) and emerge from the bathroom in a pair of pants that were definitely not skinny jeans and a pull-over that felt like it was made from heavy-duty alpaca fur layered with three-sheep's worth of material, even though it felt like 90 degrees there.

Harry was waiting for me right outside and his head snapped right up when he saw me. His half-grin formed as his eyes sparkled in the cheap, fluorescent lighting and he held out his arm for me to hold. "May I escort you to the room," he asked then added, "Great aunt Gertrude?"

He laughed maniacally at his own, lame joke which, I admit, calmed me down a bit because, at least, he wasn't being fully nice to me. But I still didn't accept the offer. I rolled my eyes at him and made my way down the hall again. Harry chased his way to me.

"Do you even know where you're going, Nana Barbara?" He circle his hand around my arm as he tried to stop me but I pulled it away with a snap. "Hey," Harry didn't sound so gentle or playful anymore, which had me stopping and looking back at him, directly into his green eyes.

Those eyes that spoke stories and adventures and fairy tales. Those eyes that I fell in love with, even though I didn't realize it was him from my drunkenness. Those beautiful, emerald eyes that made up for all the sheepdog hair going on at the top of his head. Those eyes that had me falling to pieces.

Almost.

"You shouldn't be straining yourself," he told me, concern in his tone. I don't know how it happened, but he had managed to softly slip his hand into mine. I hadn't noticed until it was already there. His grip wasn't tight. It was as if he was already waiting for me to dislodge his fingers from mine in an instant. But I didn't. That was something even I didn't know.

I looked away, a little too late not to be hypnotized by his stare. My eyebrows scrunched the way they always did when Harry was around. "Like I didn't already know that," I mumbled to myself, hoping he'd hear it.

"I know you know you're capable of doing so much more than you allow yourself to be," Harry whispered softly as he cradled my chin in his fingers, bit by bit lifting it back to his eyes. "But now's not the time to be rebelling." Time passed slowly, I think it even stopped for just about another heartbeat, as he looked at me like I was so delicate yet so study, so brittle yet so strong, so worthless yet so precious.

There were no nurses rushing by in the halls. There were no girls giggling within the three-meter radius. There wasn't a hint of disinfectant in the air. It was just him, all of him. I wouldn't say that this was like that night because it wasn't. So much had changed and so much had happened that I don't think any moment would ever be like that again.

This was its own moment, capturing a picture and waiting to be pulled out soon enough to reminisce. This particular moment in the brief history of my life was one of the most pivotal moments because at that time in that hospital, looking straight into his eyes was the moment I was convinced of my certainty about how I felt towards Harry Styles.

ZAYN'S P.O.V.

"So, let's summarize this whole thing again, shall we?" Harry Magee sounded terrifyingly calm as we spent the past hour explaining the past ten days, starting from the night at the club (even though he probably already knew that) down to when she dislocated her shoulder and got sent to the hospital.

Mr. Magee was pacing back and forth in his own bloody office, looking down at each of us with this death glare. He had this quite relaxed smile across his lips but he couldn't fool me. I could see right through his dead eyes. The look of pure hatred as if he ought to be carrying a knife smeared with our very own blood.

I leaned back on the black leather spinny chair and planted an ankle on my knee to seem as if I didn't give a rat's arse about what he was talking about. Any sign of intimidation for him and he'd swipe us down like a hawk. I scanned the room with only my eyes, trying not to make it obvious that I wanted to check up on them.

Not a muscle changed from Niall's face from when we were at the interviewing room--head down, fingers interlaced with each other and eyes without its usual vibrance. Liam, from what I've observed, was thinking the same thing I was about Magee, but was making his worrying for Niall less subtle.

He turned to him every five seconds and asked him if he was okay every ten in which Niall would reply with a single, half-hearted nod. It was hard to tell whether Louis was really genuinely bored with another one of Magee's tricks or he was just pretending to be. Louis was naturally gifted at these kinds of things.

What made me a tad nervous was the girl's sister, though. There was tension in every inch of Kiefer's body. The self-pity from when we just came from the hospital was gone and all that was present was fear, nervousness and just plain silent panic. He was sweating like crazy. If Magee noticed earlier, we would've been toast.

"Around ten or eleven days ago," Magee started off the entire story all over again just to piss me off, I reckon. The bloody clunge with nothing to do with his life. "You lot went to a club for some partying."

There would've been an awkward silence if it hadn't been for Louis, who stretched in his seat and rested his arms on the wooden table in front on us. "Yup," he said like he was confirming something as simple as an order at a resto.

Magee shot a deadly headlock at Liam, who tried to seem unamused as well. He rubbed the morning glory off his eyes and rubbed his face. "We, uh," Liam continued slowly, thinking of the right words to say all while blinking to focus his vision directly at Magee. "For the lack of better words, got shitfaced."

"Ah, yes," Magee smiled and clapped his hands together. Just as he did, I heard a faint ping a few feet away. It was so low, I almost didn't hear it. I could've easily said that I imagined it but the I saw Kiefer slide out his phone from his back pocket. Louis had messages in and I leaned to read.

'Act calm.'

He quickly locked his phone and slide it back in his pocket. His definition of 'calm' is probably like his sister's definition of 'nothing' because all he did was wipe off his sweat and breathe heavily. If anything, he looked more nervous than he did before. I caught a glimpse of Louis and we locked eyes just for one second but that was all we needed to each other a non-physical face palm.

"And Zayn got a bit too close with a face, am I correct?" The fucktard repeated for the millionth time that day, still looking at Liam who didn't bat an eye.

"Yeah, they practically had sex with their clothes on," he practically rubbed on Magee's face. I knew why. We needed it to seem like we didn't give a damn so whatever punishment he was thinking of would be useless, so he would think twice about messing with us.

He wanted to tear us apart. He publicity to flock us and when there's publicity, the management handles that and when management handles publicity, the money comes in. That's all we are to them: their source of cash. The only reason why we chose to stay with them was because they were our lifeline.

Magee finally turned to me. "Do you have anything to add, my pristine Zayn?" He had a sly smile on, cunning and clever, so I plastered one of my own on my face.

A broad grin, matching with a slight exhale of laughter. "Yeah, we fucked," I said as if it were no big deal, but a heard a sudden intake of breath from Kiefer and tried not to cringe. Magee's face fell, only languidly but I noticed. He squinted his eyes at me and peered in closer to see if my reaction was legit. I didn't quiver an inch. "She's probably fucking Harry as we speak."

Kiefer's coughing didn't just catch Magee's attention but all of ours. With panic and grief striking in his face yet again, I knew we were in dead trouble.