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

Chapter Forty - Broken

The worst is over now, and we can breathe again.

I wanna hold you high. You steal my pain away.

There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight,

I wanna hold you high and steal your pain.

- "Broken", Seether ft. Amy Lee

....

The plane was just taking off as I laid my head on Harry's shoulder. I waited, I waited for the tears to come. But I felt nothing. It was as if the thought of Zayn being dead had a weight, picturing his still, cold body felt heavy on my chest and shoulders.

Could I have stopped him? He had seemed so happy the few times I was with him. Was it obvious for me to see the pain underneath? Why didn't I? Why wasn't I there for him?

Around me, it felt like my world had stopped. And I was just existing. Life was continuing, but my wheels seemed to have slowed down and stopped turning. I tried to close my eyes, to convince myself that I was dreaming, and that Liam's call wasn't real, but I couldn't stop seeing Zayn's lifeless face behind my lids. What did he do? I thought. Did he take all of his medication, did he bleed to death alone?

He died alone.

I knew Zayn felt alone. He was always by himself, stone faced, his mesmerizing golden eyes almost glassy with the dark thoughts of his own mind.

Where were the tears? Why wasn't I crying? Why did Zayn have to go?

I remember when I thought of him as a frightening, disgusting bastard. I thought he was almost evil. But looking back, he just wanted to belong. Memories of Zayn getting drunk with Niall at Regina's birthday bonfire, so long ago, I just focused on his face in the fuzzy memory. I should've known there was more to him then.

So many questions and thoughts swirled in my head like a washing machine on full spin. The more I lingered on Zayn's torn away life, I could only imagine how our friendship would grow. Our friendship was too fucking short.

I finally lifted my throbbing head to meet Harry's eyes. They were staring coolly at the seat in front of us, and I could feel my mouth moving. "Are you okay?" My voice sounded strange, I didn't recognize it.

"I feel guilty," Harry whispered. Noise sounded stopped up, as if I had cotton balls lodged in my ears.

"Why?"

"I feel like...like it was my fault. Like I called Zayn the worst shit and I..." Harry closed his eyes, leaning his head down. "I never got to say I was sorry. He died with me hating him."

I leaned closer to him, holding his arm. "It wasn't your fault, Harry."

"How do you know?" Harry said, turning to look at me. "What if he took his life because the shit I said haunted him? I was just...I can't believe it took this for me to realize..." He broke off, and swallowed heavily.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just squeezed Harry's hand, locking our fingers together.

As soon as we got off the plane and made our way through the airport, Harry and I found his Mustang, waiting where we had parked it.

After loading his car, he sat there, staring at the wheel with the keys in his hand. "Where do we go?" he whispered.

"Zayn's apartment."

Harry turned to look at me, his eyes wide. "Are you serious? Ali..."

"Take me. Please."

He nodded slowly, jamming the key into the ignition, slowly beginning to drive out of the parking lot with my directions to the apartment complex.