faded

7.0 - flowers

Zayn and I faced each other on the bed, our tired bodies covered by the same blanket. It was about to be midnight and it felt like the day had dragged on for too long. We smoked a little more, and after having a few drinks, we found ourselves cuddled tight, listening to the low volume of the TV. After that kiss, everything looked different. It seemed like it was much brighter. I had missed him too much.

"Why did you call Liam?" he slurred only a bit, my low eyes feeling heavy, but not sleepy, as I looked at him.

"I didn't know who to call," I answered, avoiding his eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it, not now, anyway."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, anything."

"Was there anyone... Here? While I was gone?

"Uh... Look, I'm not gonna lie. You know the answer. "

In my head all I could think was don't overreact, just don't. But I wasn't good at listening to my inner voice of reason. I felt so angry at him. How could someone else have been here when he claimed he missed me so much? I sat up in bed, getting his hands off me.

"Wow," I simply said.

He rolled his eyes, sitting up as well. I got out of bed and sat on the couch nearby, my head buried in my hands. I needed to think rationally.

I couldn't though.

"You didn't miss me so much, did you?"

Zayn scoffs, picking up his phone from the nightstand and looking busy on it. "Really? You left, I was lonely. That doesn't mean I didn't miss you or cheated, we weren't together."

"So fucking what!?" I exclaimed, heat rushing to my head.

"Let me get this straight- you ignore my calls for months, refuse to see me, make excuses when I went to see you, and actually pretend I don't exist, but I'm wrong? I did something fucked up when YOU didn't wanna talk to me or see me, while I was single? Get your mind right."

He was right. I hated it. I hated jealousy and I hated feeling like I had pushed him into someone else's arms.

"Who was it?" I found myself asking.

"You don't need to know," Zayn answered annoyed, bored with my drama already. "You just got back... This is not how I wanna be with you right now."

"I don't care."

Zayn stared at me for a second, probably trying to figure out what to do next.

"I'm going out," he announced, "I don't even wanna be here right now."

"You're leaving?"

He looked at his phone when he got out of bed, throwing his white shirt on. "I don't wanna deal with this bullshit. It's childish."

I'm lost for words. I know this is all too familiar, I've felt this sinking feeling in my chest before. "You can't just leave."

He frowns, looking at me incredulously, "I know how you are. I need to go get a drink."

"No," I simply said, making my way towards the door. I blocked the way out, his expression softened. "You can't."

"Get out of the way."

I'm not sure what I do. I black out for a moment and the next thing I know, I'm holding a large piece of glass to him like a weapon, like I'm gonna hurt him. I see that the vase once full of flowers that was on the nightstand is now broken on the floor, Zayn is standing back, and I look fucking crazy.

"Ana, stop," he argues, "Drop the glass."

I shake my head. "No. Fuck no."

"You're fucking kidding me, I'm telling you to stop."

He's really angry but can't do much. As much as I hate it, it feels good to be the one with the power.

Zayn inched closer to me and tried taking the piece of vase away, only causing me to bury it in his hand. He let out a low grunt, his blood flowing out slowly. He took the piece out, eyeing me enraged.

"Zayn... I'm so-"

He gripped my arm with his intact hand, the blood from the other dripping onto the carpet. I watched where I stepped, careful to not step on shards of glass.

He threw me on the bed hard, his demeanor intimidating.

"I'm fucking going out. You just needed to be on bad terms, huh?" His voice is strained, probably due to the pain in his bleeding hand. His shirt is covered in it as well. Zayn put another tshirt on the open wound, adding pressure so it would stop bleeding. "Don't wait up for me."

He stepped around the glass on the floor and I did as well, immediately getting up off the bed when I saw he was heading out.

He couldn't just leave. "Zayn, stop. Please."

His expression softened but he still remained firm in his decision to leave. "What do you want me here for tonight? You just snapped at me, babe. You asked me a question, I answered with the truth. I didn't do anything wrong."

I hated when he was right. He was. It was me who didn't appear to want to fix things while he constantly called. My mouth was dry, the cotton mouth no doubt making everything way worse.

"Please don't leave," I begged, "I'm sorry."

"Ana, just go to bed, okay?"