resolution♔ z.m

7%

I delete your number, only to add it up once again.

          My phone keeps endlessly ringing, and I know it’s not her—of course it isn’t, she has someone else, remember?  The world keeps spinning and I know dubiety will never find its axis, neither will the photos of us clustered at the corner of the gray walled room find truthful retrospection. “But babe, it’s Friday,” I remember her saying as she clutched on to my over worn t-shirt, “and, you’ve been away for too long.” I should have fucking thought about that when she kept on telling me I’ve been away for too long. I should have listened, it’s my fault. My world has become so mute, that my blurry visions couldn’t grasp the difference between the light and darkness. I remember her saying i was the moon to her sky. I remember asking why, and she smiled fondly at me, holding on to me like she always did, “because you make me feel loved.” Was that a lie, too?

          “Zayn, open up!” the sobs get strangled in my throat. I wasn’t getting any better, and I couldn’t bare how hard it has become and how much I began to hate the concept of love and warmth. “Do you want me to break this damn door?” I rise to my feet and soullessly walk over to the door, only to pull it open and meet the eyes of the fuming brunet. “It has been four days mate since I’ve last seen you come out of this room, are you alright?”

          I couldn’t answer him—I didn’t know if I was alright or if I was pretending to be alright or getting loonier with every passing minute, but yeah. I nod. “Zayn, seriously, talk to me, please.” He is dreading for my reply as he walks in, shutting the door before him, “the rest are here, and we just want to go out together, you know? And of course, you’re locked up in here doing God knows what!” Liam is taking this too personal, I thought. Didn’t they get to the part of the story where Zayn wants to be just alone, sinking in bitterness? “I’m worried, okay? I am so fucking worried.” He becomes tired of talking, taking a few steps towards the torn photos of Vera and I gathered on the floor. I was planning on burning them, anyway. His lips fix into a straight line from all the mess lying around in my room, (because he was really neat) carefully stepping over my t-shirts to follow the trail that leaded to the packaged boxes of memories I didn’t want to touch just yet. “Vera left you, didn’t she?” That is when the world comes crashing down with cold bricks and hot cement. I use the wall for support as my cheeks stain with tears and God knows what.

       “Shit,” he knew his conclusion had been right, but he didn’t know how bad it was. I remember when he broke up with Danielle—he was sad, alright, but he wasn’t as sad as I was. He had taken up his strength and became normal again. I don’t want to be normal anymore. I don’t want to find love again the way he did. I don’t want to believe in it at all!

         “When did it happen?” He feels guilty now, but I don’t know since I’m facing away and staring at the wall with fists on either sides of my face. I hated gray walls, anyway. I always liked them brighter or something, but gray was the only colour I believed soothed me right now. “You can mourn forever, but that won’t change—“

          “Don’t tell me that! I loved her the way she was deserved to be loved!” lies… “And I still love her.”

          He didn’t know what to say, really. He looks confused and I bet I don’t look any better, and all I had to tell him was to keep it between us. “Do me a favour, yeah? Don’t tell them a word about this.”

________________________

          The air conditioner was of no use to my internal suffocation. I had deleted her number twenty times now, only to add her back with the numbers streaming out of my thumbs. In five minutes, it will be ten, a time when Liam goes to shower, since he is always coming to my door and trying to talk to me. Throwing my leather jacket over my shoulder while rushing over to the main entrance, I sneak out, though I know Liam wouldn’t bother knocking on the door for the night, I still didn’t need to meet the chances of being asked why I was going out for a walk so late. I know I’d probably be spotted, but I could hardly breathe and feel. My hands became so cold and tired from feeling the sheets that resembled her smooth skin. I take directions through streets you probably wouldn’t see much people; I solemnly walk by the pavements, the puddles reflecting the colours of the streetlight. The condensed air had formed thick lines on the brick walls I walk by, only reminding me of the tears I had wiped from my cheeks merely minutes ago. It was very much cold, I had to hide away my hands in my pockets and look downwards before anyone recognized me.