(Won't) Last Forever •ZARRY•

v.

           

It was July and Harry felt his marriage falling apart.

            He's standing in front of the mirror in their walk-in closet, looking at himself in the new black fitted suit. To a stranger, he may look great, with his thighs hugged by the pants and his hair falling over his shoulders in soft curls. But Harry thinks he looks like a corpse. Dark circles under his eyes, caused by never getting enough sleep lately and trading vegetables in his diet for alcohol. He's thin, thinner than in high school, because he tends to replace most of his meals with coffee lately. His husband thinks Harry's cheating on him, but Harry knows his husband is cheating for a fact.

            Zayn walks out of the en-suite bathroom, suit and shoes already on. If Harry didn't feel dead inside, he'd be sad about it. Normally, back when they weren't fighting or living in complete silence, Zayn would come out of the bathroom shirtless with a smile on his lips. He'd walk to Harry, stand behind him and wrap his arms around his middle – under Harry's shirt of course. Now he simply walks past Harry without even a single look.

            They're that couple now – the mechanical one. Work, fighting and silence – that's the endless circle of their marriage. They sleep in the same bed most nights, but never holding each other. Harry gets drunk too often and Zayn leaves their bedroom and doesn't talk to Harry for days at a time, well if he's home. Zayn runs away from Harry. He spends more time in airplanes than in their house. Flying out to Europe or the West Coast with Ally is what he does most days now. He also cheats. Harry's tried to get a confirmation out of Zayn, but he won't budge. Harry isn't stupid. He sees all the signs clearly – leaving their home most days, not having sex anymore and barely talking to his spouse. How can Zayn even try to deny it when he sees his art scout more than his fucking husband?

            Harry watches Zayn grab his phone from the bedside table and type out a text, presumably to Ally. He turns away, looking in the mirror again. How did we get here?

            "Are you ready? The car is here," Zayn asks from the bedroom. Harry tries to smile at his reflection and prepare the fake smile he'll have on his face the whole night, but fails miserably.

            "Yeah. Let's go," they walk out of their house wordlessly, lock the front door and get in the black Mercedes waiting for them.

            The ride is silent, both of them distracting themselves with their phones so they don't have to talk to each other. When the car finally stops in front of the gallery, they smack big smiles on their faces. As they're entering the building, Zayn wraps his arm around Harry's waist. It sends a shiver down Harry's spine. After not touching for days it's a shock for him.

            They're the image of the perfect couple – big smiles on their faces, holding each other as they greet guest who came to see the exhibition opening. It's a big deal, showing the artwork of a popular Japanese artist, his art in New York for the first time. There are people from all around the US along with dozens of their friends and acquaintances, they can't show what their marriage really looks like right now.

            The artist is introduced and gains a tremendous applause. Harry gets progressively tipsier and tipsier on champagne. He and Zayn act their roles perfectly. They're constantly smiling, making small talk with people, all while holding hands and doing cheesy shit they would normally never do. Kisses on cheeks, praise and dumb smiles. Lies, lies and lies.

            In some moments, Harry forgets that none of this is real. That they are the happy couple they pretend to be. That everything is okay and they'll go home, kissing in the backseat of the car the whole ride and then have amazing sex in their bedroom. He forgets their fights, Zayn's cheating that he just won't fucking admit and the fact that they haven't had sex in three months. He basks in it, even though it's nothing more than a show for strangers.