Show Me 2 - Remember Me (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty Four - Breakeven

Her best days will be some of my worst,

She finally met a man that's gonna put her first.

While I'm wide awake she's no trouble sleeping,

'Cause when a heart breaks no it don't break even.

- "Breakeven", The Script

....

It was hard to drive around in the night through my tear-filled eyes. Wrapping my mind around the fact that Harry was actually cheating on me was painful, gutting.

It was much darker when I reached Zayn's apartments on the rougher part of town, where there was tons of trash on the black lawns and only one street lamp. I locked my car manually, taking note of all the much-less impressive vehicles around.

Noticing that there were no elevators, I knocked on Zayn's door after walking up a flight of stairs - house number 235.

He yanked the door open almost immediately, as if he'd been standing around the corner. He was naked to the waist, a pair of sweatpants on his hips.

"Hey..." Zayn's chest was more tattooed than I thought.

"Oh, god, honey, you're a mess." Zayn stepped aside, letting me in. The living room was about the size of one of my bathrooms, and the hallway was so narrow only two people could walk through at once, pressed shoulder to shoulder. Further down the hall I noticed a small kitchen, and a door was ajar to his bedroom.

Zayn's motorcycle boots that he wore everywhere were near the door. His leather jacket was thrown over his short couch, and his box TV was turned to a football game. A makeshift ashtray made out of an empty soda can was on his coffee table.

When I turned back to Zayn, his cheeks were tinged a faint pink under his tanned skin. "I know it's not much," he babbled, "but it's just me here, and my mom bought me a shitty apartment back when she thought I was just a dumbass - "

"You don't have to explain yourself," I mumbled over his rambling. "I like this place."

Zayn paused. "You're kidding." A slow smile spread over his mouth.

"Nope." I sniffed again, rubbing at my runny nose.

"Shit...uh, here. We'll sit down on my couch." He gestured with a sympathetic smile to his little black sofa. "Want me to make you something? I think I've got some hot chocolate left..."

"That'd be awesome, thank you."

He rooted around the pile of take out menus on his table to hand me the remote. "There's not many channels but I'm sure you could find something."

"Thank you, Zayn," I said again, wiping at my eyes.

"No problem." He smiled at me, ducking out of the living room to go prepare our drinks.

Aimlessly, I flipped through Zayn's eighty channels, finally landing on some wedding show. The couple looked so happy, beaming at one another at the end of the altar, tears of bliss sliding down their faces.

I'd always wanted to get married, to be a bride at a grand, floral ceremony, sharing this perfect moment the person I loved most.

As I gazed pathetically at the screen, the TV groom's blond hair became darker, and curlier, his jawline sharper. His lips swelled to be fuller and more pink, and his once flat blue eyes were now bright green. Harry was standing in the crisp tuxedo at the altar, smiling at me.

Zayn walked back in the room just then with a mug in each hand, and his eyes widened when he saw me. The smile dropped from his face. "Jesus, why are you crying?"