Princess (Ziam)

Kinetic

So Harry and Niall's tours have started, and I really want to go to at least one :(

On the bright side, I went to New York for Spring Break and got to see the show Dear Evan Hansen, which I have been obsessed with for a while. There were plenty of tears shed.

I also came back yesterday and went to see Love, Simon which also made me cry. I cry a lot, I guess. 😊

So, this chapter is sort of a filler since I didn't have much time to write a whole chunk of plot, but it is a R rated chapter for smut. Here you guys go!

(Important Side Note: Medication and therapy are nothing to be ashamed of, but they can definitely be scary to experience. Take care of yourselves, loves. 💓)

Chapter 91:

      I stared at the pill bottle on the dresser. Anxiety medication. I knew that I had to take it, but the actual act of doing so made me both nervous and afraid.

    I never thought I would need pills for anything because the common headache or cold. I never thought that I would have an actual problem with my anxiety. I didn't even remember when it became worse. I never realized that all of those times I panicked for even a moment were actually serious.

     I thought about Zayn's situation in comparison with mine, though they weren't similar in any way. Zayn had a completely different problem. It was his depression and my anxiety. And I made him feel terribly yesterday.

    He was doing therapy to help him, and therapy was offered to me. My mum asked me if I thought it would help, and I just told her that I didn't know. We settled that I would think about it and let her know what I've decided. Truth be told, I was terrified to talk to someone about my fears.

     I knew what Zayn would say. Zayn would say that there was nothing wrong with needing a bit of help, and I knew that, but it was so hard to accept that help. Zayn would also say that he wanted to get better, but the question is: did I want to get better?

     I took a deep breath and opened the pill bottle, taking the correct amount into my hand before placing them into my mouth and reaching for the water bottle that stood beside it. I quickly downed them before I could even think of changing my mind and spitting them out. And once that was done, I took another deep breath and made my way over to Zayn's bed, sitting down just as the door opened and Zayn walked in.

     He looked to where I was sitting as he made his way over to the bed as well, his hands full of two plates with sandwiches on them. He handed one to me as he sat down, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

     "Did you take them?" He asked, reading the look of disbelief and uncertainty on my face.

     "Yeah," I said with a small nod, seeing a small smile on Zayn's lips at my answer. We stopped talking for a moment as we both took a bite of our sandwiches. Zayn promised that he would spend more time with me, and I promised to try and not feel so alone when he was gone. I think my end of the bargain was harder to keep.

     "Do you know what you're going to do about therapy yet?" He asked, looking up from his sandwich to meet my eyes.

     "I don't know," I replied, still feeling the exact same way about it when my mum asked me. "I just... I don't know if I feel comfortable talking about everything to some stranger. And I really don't want to revisit certain parts of my past."

     It was true. There were doors that I have shut and did my best to forget about. Talking about the past, trying to find the root of everything, would only open them up again. I didn't know if I could survive them twice.