When Zayn left One Direction, no one was more affected than Niall was.
But he isn't sure of it was because he was his Bestfriend-
Or if it was something else.
****V O T E****
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I couldn't help but let my eyes wave over Zayn the whole time he spoke. How he spoke about falling for me and being in love with me.
I study him. The curvature. The every in-and-out out of his physically defined face and sun kissed skin. His titanium cutting cheekbones and jaw. From where I was sitting his eyes had this certain lightness to them, he stared straight ahead. I knew that he was waiting for me to say something— but I had nothing. I opened my mouth a few times, only to close it again. When the silence continues. He looks at me with the utmost curiosity. I don't tear my gaze away, I only bite my lip.
"Well—" he says, leaving space for me to say something. His eyes Secretly praying I'd say something.
I open my mouth, "I.."
"You don't—" he mumbles, "—feel the same." He visibly gulps and his physique changes. He's seems to be physically shaking.
He moves to get up, frantically, I reach out and grab his wrist.
"Zayn I—" I don't even get to finish before he snatches his arm out of my hold.
"I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty Niall?" He asks monotonously, no 'Ni' or 'Nialler' just Niall, I mean of course it's my name but it's abnormal for him to not call me by one of the nicknames he's given me.
He sighs, without looking at me he walks into the kitchen and of course I follow behind him.
"Zayn—"
"I've got water, wine, pop, um that— that tropical juice that you like." He says, speak a little hurriedly, he swivels around reaching into the cupboards, moving carelessly. Turning around quickly, too quickly, he drops one of the glasses.
"Why do I fück everything up!" Zayn shouts, I quickly manoeuvre around the islands to get to him. He's too busy beating himself up to notice me. Mumbling to himself he scrambles to find something to clean up the mess, but I stop him by grabbing his hand.
He tries to tug away, but I don't let him. I pull him toward me, making him face me.
"Zayn—" I breath, happy that I'm finally getting to talk, "—Calm down."
He doesn't look me in the eye, "I can't."
"Why?" I ask furrowing my eyebrow.
He laughs credulously, "Why? You really have to ask me why?"
I don't say anything in hopes that he'd elaborate on whatever it is, he's seemingly stressed about.
