resolution♔ z.m

25%

You told me turning the page would do me good, but my book is filled of blank pages and no one can imprint words in them the way you could.

            He takes an empty sketch book into his hands, hoping his creativity would arise or at least wishing he could draw something simple but… there was nothing. He had held the pencil several times, but with every attempt came a back down and there was only so much pain and defeat he could take. “You should try moving on,” he remembers her saying earlier in the morning when the sky was tad bright with glints of darkness still lingering, “I still care about you- always will, but… you can’t keep handing things this way.” He never understood what way she meant, but he ended the call rudely by saying it was none of her business how he decided to live his life and she should rather attend to her new boyfriend, Michael. Michael is an actor, who also happens to be the son of a music producer, so… go figure!

           Zayn never, not in a million years, expected himself to be placed second best and then serenaded with the chances of being the person she ‘will always’ care about. In other words, you could call him selfish for wanting her all to himself or bitter for thinking love is just a state of imagination and people were going insane. He was no more fascinated with the idea of loving, but with the memories of being with her and how carelessly she could throw it all away with just a snap of a finger, thinking if she called more often and bothered about his being, he’d be able to get over her and move on, but no… moving on wasn’t as simple as turning pages of a book, especially a blank book with endless pages that was filled with her hand writing, one that was so neat and cursive you could fall in love with her words rather than her.

           Detroit is far warmer than Toronto: after all, he was in the US. Among the prominent skyscrapers, the bus he was in drove well between facilitated street lights, but all he could think about was how he wanted the day to end as quickly as it could. He loved what he did, appreciated it, too, but, as much as he wanted to deny it, he was hurting and no one could see it. For the past two weeks, Harry tried offering him to meet a therapist, and that a professional would easily understand Zayn’s dilemma, but Zayn had ignored him that day and caused a big fight, accusing Harry for thinking he was insane. He hadn’t talk to Liam ever since their fight in his hotel room, only receiving bitter stares and sneers, their main source of communication. Niall was chill, only asking him if he wanted something or wanted to play football, apart from that, the blonde stayed clear away from his danger zone, knowing Zayn will anytime drop a dynamite and blow. Louis on the other side understood it was useless offering help, so he hit the point.

                    “Vera is gone, okay? You could either suck it up and be the man I’ve always known you to be or depress yourself and make her watch you suffer, giving her the satisfaction of you actually being someone she did not regret leaving.” Louis says intently as he settles down on the seat by Zayn and flips pages to a magazine stopping on a page and tearing it off, shoving it on Zayn’s lap before tapping his shoulder and leaving to another spot in the bus. Zayn stares for a very long time at the picture of Vera leaving a restaurant holding hands with who is apparently Michael.

And that was the hardest part, accepting the pain.