blue jeans || z.m. au

3%

"can't go home alone again, need someone to numb the pain"

"i gotta stay high, all the time, to keep you off my mind" 

----

Genevieve wakes up a few hours later, a bit of saliva on her pillow and cheek. She quickly wipes it, wanting to get the wetness off her skin. Rubbing her eyes, she stands up from the snug mattress, and yawns. Her eyes tear up slightly, but only because she's been really tired lately. And right now, her eyeballs are burning when she blinks actually. Thoughts of what happened just before she fell asleep, crashes back into her mind, like waves crashing against the warm sand. She picks up her cell and dials Harry's number. They have been really close, best friends, in fact. Sometimes people mistaken them for brother and sister, even though they don't even have any similarities. Expect, maybe their light eyes. 

"Hello?" Harry says through the phone after the fourth ring. He sounds amused, as if he has just been laughing, his smile not leaving his face yet. Genevieve quirks her eyebrow up in question, but doesn't say anything about it.

"Harry, let's go out tonight." Genevieve says to him, quickly checking the time. 6:00. She hears an echo of her voice, and questions Harry this time.

"Do you have me on speaker Harry?" Harry smiled at that, he loves it when people call him by his first name all the time when talking to him, especially her. His smile faded though, because her finding out that she was on speaker, and that Zayn was listening to the whole conversation.

"Yeah, cause I'm driving." He replies smoothly. He turns to Zayn, who is mouthing what to say to Genevieve. 

"Anyway, can we?" Genevieve is already pulling on her tight, dark washed blue jeans. She sets the phone on her nightstand, putting it on speaker. She pulls on a black t-shirt, rolling the sleeves. Harry turns to Zayn in the car, and he's mouthing 'Where to?"

"Where to?" Harry asks. Genevieve thinks about it before quickly settling on somewhere to go.

"The Bar." She smirks. Harry slaps his hand against his thigh, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but what bar Genevieve." He says.

"No, you got it wrong. The bar's name is Bar." She laughs. It's a big laugh, filling Zayn and Harry's ears, the tension in the car slowly decreasing. Both of the boys can't help but laugh, but the two quickly stop, Genevieve thinking only Harry is in the car. Not with Zayn. She doesn't suspect anything though.

"At 9?" Harry questions. Genevieve almost breaks out in laughter again.

"Make it 10." She smiles. Harry does too, his cheeks puffed out.

"Bye Vieve." That was Harry's nickname, for her.  And she didn't let anyone else call her that, only him.

"Bye Harry." They couldn't really figure out a nickname for him, so they just left it as Harry. The call ends and Harry lets out a deep breath. He turns to Zayn, and he has a smile adorned on his face.

"You're not going." He takes his eyes off of Zayn, and puts them on the road.

"Why not mate?" Zayn asks. He's discouraged on thinking Genevieve will ever talk to him again, he disheartened him.

"She won't want you there Zayn." Harry's eyes hold a little sympathy for the boy next to him, but Zayn doesn't want anyone to feel bad for him. What he wants, is to go to Genevieve and apologize. Zayn feels like someone just pricked his last bit of hope with a pin, and as if his hope was a balloon, it deflated. Zayn sinks in the leather seat, and he feels a huge lump in his throat. He tries to swallow, but he then feels something on his neck. Zayn's hand reaches to his neck, and he feels a, band-aid.

"What the hell is this!" Zayn yells, pointing to his neck. Harry glances at him, and turns back to the needs-to-be-painted black road. 

"Obviously, it's a band-aid. You got cut in the throat, remember?" Harry says matter-of-factly. He makes it seem like it was okay to put an adhesive bandage with a gauze pad in the center to put on his neck. If it was a scrape, maybe, but a cut that was made by a sharp knife?

"Did you take me to the hospital?" Zayn asks. He rips the bandage off, almost biting his lip to the point blood was oozing out of it, because of the fucking sticky stuff glued to his wispy hair's on his neck. It hurt. His pointer finger traces over the stitches across his adam's apple and he frowns.

"No, Genevieve stitched you up." Harry shrugs. The aching feeling comes to his throat, and he just wants to scream. But his esophagus would be even more sore if he did. Zayn rubs his hand across his face, and he breathes deeply.

"Oh great! Genevieve stitched me up! She has no medical education, but it's fine!" Zayn's voice is fluent sarcasm, and he throws his hands up in the air.

"Her mom is a nurse. She taught her, you dick." Harry says curtly. He's very protective of Genevieve as you can tell.

"Can you just take me to our flat? I have to brush my teeth and take a fucking shower." Zayn responds.

And Harry did just that. He didn't want to deal with Zayn being a fucking asshole.

----

It is already 9:30, and Harry is leaving to go meet up with Genevieve. Zayn is laying down on his bed, not as comfortable as Genevieve's, but it's average. His newly washed hair is wet, water seeping through the white fabric of the pillows. He's looking at the also white, ceiling above his head and sighs. He wishes it was that dark, hunter green color like in Genevieve's room. He likes that color.

"I'm leaving!" Harry yells to Zayn excitedly. He walks into Zayn's bedroom and smiles.

"How do I look?" He asks, spinning in a circle. Harry slides a hand through his perfectly quiffed hair and smiles wider, his dimples deeply indented in his cheeks. 

"Fine." Zayn answers, his eyes not leaving the ceiling. Harry rolls his eyes.

"You didn't even look at me." He says.

"Since when do you care about my opinion?" Zayn replies, sitting up. He now sees what Harry is wearing. He's clad in a pair of blue skinny jeans, and a white quarter sleeve shirt. He is holding a navy blue blazer like a waiter would hold a napkin on their arm.

"Just wondering, God." He responds, looking at the floor. Zayn brushes his hands against his, warm, and cozy, light gray sweatpants. He ties the white string on the waistband of his sweatpants lazily.

"I'm sorry mate, about everything, I just really want to go and apologize to Vieve." He uses Harry's nickname for her.

"Don't call her that. I only call her that." Harry growls, whilst pointing at his chest. Zayn's eyes widen, and when Harry looks at Zayn he automatically feels guilty.

"I'm sorry too Zayn. It's just- Genevieve only lets me call her that." He scratches his forehead, and looks at his brown boots frustratingly. Zayn waves him off. Harry is about to leave the room until Zayn's words stop him from doing so.

"But Harry?" He asks, looking at him expectantly. He hopes that he'll do this for him since Harry basically attacked him about Genevieve's nickname. Harry hums in response, signaling for Zayn to go on with what he was saying.

"Can I go with you to meet up with Genevieve? Please?" Zayn asks, looking at him with those mesmerizing eyes, that can keep you in a fucking trance for eternity.

"Mate, please don't make me choose," Harry says pleadingly. He shifts his weight on one leg.

"Okay then, go. But, tell her I'm sorry." Zayn replies, smiling. Harry gives him a thumbs up and runs to the door, stumbling over his foot, but made it to the door. He locked it, and slips on the midnight blue blazer, and straightens the non existent creases in the jacket. He jogs down the complex stairs and mumbles to himself,

"This is going to be fun."

----

i finally updated! omg sorry for the wait, writer's block is so annoying ughhh. anyway, please vote, comment, add to your library! tell me what you thought about the chappie! what do you think is going to happen next? this is just a cliffhanger, the other part of this chapter will be posted soon. lol just wanted to clear that up. omg idek, and 200 reads on this story! tysm, ily! :)