Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Forty Seven

Liam threw his schoolbag across his room the minute he stepped inside. It had been a long day for Liam Payne, the day’s events still heavily hanging over him. He stood silently at the door of his room, briefly looking at the trail of mess that had been left when the bag had been hurled, knocking over the stuff that was on his desk. Pens and pencils now littered the floor, pages of revision knocked out of their once organised pile. A shaky sigh left his mouth, his bottom lip trembling as much as his shaking hands were. He blinked, his eyes starting to well up as he looked at the mess he had caused.

 The teenager let out a cry of anger which expressed the amount of strained emotion he’d been carrying around all day. He stepped away from the door and slammed it shut, kicking it into its place with an angry grunt, using the force to push him off the wall and into his room. He paced around his room, kicking at his office chair and other random objects that were laid across his bedroom floor. His feet stamped and kicked the revision papers as his mind told him to throw his weight around and ruin everything. What was revision now, would he even get any decent A Level marks? Why would a university even want him, a broken mess of a boy.

The thought further drove him insane. His hands quickly flew to the handles of his wardrobe doors, his grip so intense that he would have left a dent if the wood was any weaker than it was. The doors were opened, one of them slamming against his blue walls with a loud bang. The teenager quickly started to raid his closet, throwing clothes after clothes out of it and around the room before he finally found what he was looking for. He scooped up the pristinely hung hoodie and pulled it out, holding it by the shoulders as he looked over it with his brown eyes.

Only one of his friends would wear a hoodie like this to Liam’s house a little while ago and be forgetful enough to leave it. Liam’s hand still shook as his grip tightened on the dark green fabric. His brown eyes closed as the hint of his friends smell came to him. That rich scent that he longed to smell on his skin, in his bed sheets, maybe his own hoodie. His bottom lip once again trembled as he brought it closer to him.

He hated Harry Styles. He hated the way he walked, the way he talked, every little thing about him. Liam hated how cocky he was, how much of an utter twat he was, every inch of his personality. He hated the fact that those two green eyes always seemed to have him hooked, and even after the boy had punched him in the face, he hated the way he still wanted to crawl into his arms and hope that he’d never let him go.

But Harry Styles has let him go.

Liam flopped down on his bed with a broken sob. His large hands quickly found his swollen face, the hope of comfort coming from pushing the boy’s hoodie into his face not meeting Liam. The lack of comfort caused the boy to push his body into his duvet. His mind kept coming up with more reasons to hate Harry Styles as he forced his watery brown eyes shut.

 His light chuckle. The way he looked at Liam in utter hatred. The way his foot always seemed to tap out a rhythm when listening to music. The way his hands felt when pushing against Liam’s body in anger.

Each positive seemed to come with a more realistic negative, which only drove the boy to start releasing cracked sobs into the silence of his war torn room. His body shuddered as he kept his face forced into the front of Harry’s hoodie. He was past any self-inflicted grunt of “Man up”. His tears kept coming thick and fast, his body aching from the fight that he had been part of earlier. He didn’t know why he’d pushed Harry so far, but he hated that he had.

He wanted to run to him, plead Harry to forgive him, promise him that he’ll be a good friend, anything to get Harry back. He wanted to see Harry smile at him again. Just a small smile, an elbow to the side, all those affectionate little nudges that Liam used to receive from the boy. He needed him back, he needed to feel the closeness from Harry. He needed to lose this feeling of complete and utter rejection.