Veronica [Zarry]

when angels cry

"Pull yourself together babe," she hands me some tissues, wraps me up in a warm embrace. "Maybe he won't mind. I wouldn't, you're an angel."

"I've been ignoring him for two weeks," I sniffle. "He looks just as hurt as I feel."

"Talk to him, he might understand." She ruffles my quiff, kisses my cheek. "You're my best friend, I don't want to see you like this. Please be happy."

"Can we play video games," I ask with a pout.

"Zayn," she giggles. "We always do that. Don't you want to go outside and get some fresh air?"

"No."

She laughs harder, presses tighter to my chest and I feel a wave of calm wash over me. In one month she became my biggest constant. I'm glad we found each other.

"You're so beautiful," she says as she pulls away, touching my face. "Why would you ever think Zayn isn't good enough?"

"I'm sorry," I whisper, letting her entwine our fingers.

Why is she so loud?

"Claire," I break the silence. "Please tell me you don't have feelings for me."

"Not like that," her voice hitches. "I just really need you in my life. I don't ever want to lose you but I also hate how much this is hurting you. He could make you happy."

"No one will ever replace my best friend," I smile.

"You should let him take you out," she smirks. "Maybe he'll hop on your dick before-"

I muffle her words with the palm of my hand, laughing.

"He makes me fucking hard," I emphasize. "If he realizes before I get a chance to explain, it's all over. Usually I can hide it. I'm pretty good at faking pleasure."

"But he's different," she chirps. "You get stars in your eyes just talking about him. It's adorable. Ugh. Makes me sick."

"Stop," I giggle as she pretends to gag herself.

"You could always be yourself, see if he recognizes you or pieces it together. If he flirts with you when you're Zayn, you know you're in the clear."

"That's smart," I admit. "But I'm not that confident."

"Veronica is, why can't Zayn be," she asks, frowning.

I shrug pathetically and she jumps off the bed, coming back with her makeup bag. I trust her enough to not steal away the mirror, wait patiently until she's done, expecting the wig but she never puts it on. "Okay," she smiles, handing me the the mirror.

It's very simple, a light contour, mascara and a soft berry lipstick. I like how toned back it is, how natural it feels.

"Try to convince yourself Zayn isn't hot."

I crack a small smile.

"He would bite those lips until they're swollen," she winks and I chuckle. She grabs my crotch and I scold her but she's all giggles. "You're already hard."

"I told you," I blush. "It's bad."

"But that's honestly so sweet, your feelings for him are so strong Zayn. Let him love you, let him take care of you."

"Fine," I cave. "Tonight."

Night rolls around and I'm close to hyperventilating as I get changed. Claire ironically tells me I'm being dramatic. Drama queen.

"Are you ready?"

"Nope," I reply.

"Too bad," she laughs, pulling me along. "Your sexy man crush awaits."

I fit myself in the corner, away from the noise, away from it all. My eyes are fixed on the floor so I'm startled when I feel a hand on my shoulder, suck in a breath.

"Do you want to talk," he asks softly. "You're always hiding."

"I know," my voice breaks in a moment of weakness. "I'm scared you won't like me."

"Too late," he smiles. "I already like you. Do I love you? I'm not sure but how do I find out if you won't give me a chance?"

"You don't understand," I say, voice hushed.

"What do I not understand," he counters, knee pressing between my legs. I'm stunned, eyes wide in shock as he says, "what if that doesn't matter?"

"How," I ask breathlessly. "How did you know?"

"Tell me," he whispers, lips skimming my neck. "What's your real name?"

"Let's not do this here, Liam-"

I'm melting at his touch, moaning as he sucks little bruises on my skin. My nails scratch down his back and I call it sweet surrender, arms wrapping around him.

"Give me a letter," he teases, nose brushing mine.

"Z," I say giggling.

"That's different. One more," he mumbles in the crook of my neck.

"A," I reply, body shaking. He dares to touch me there, stroke my hardness and it slips past my lips. "Zayn."

"You're supposed to moan my name," he smiles, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "You don't need the makeup babe."

"Okay," I let out a little cry.

"Don't cry angel." His arms wrap me up, keep me safe. "Trust me."

"I think I trust too easily," I admit, blush on my face. "That's the problem. I hate that I develop feelings so quickly, I hate that I'm so damn sensitive, I-"

He cups my face, kisses me so passionately I swear my breath escapes me, my heart beats furiously against my rib cage. Forget being vulnerable, I'm completely lost and there's no turning back. He knows. He knows and it doesn't matter. Nothing fucking matters but the inside of his mouth and my pulse in my neck and how the world is spinning and my knees are failing and I'm clinging onto him like there's some kind of drug in my system, tugging at me.

Claire was right about his feelings for me but what if she's right about me getting hurt? How do I trust my heart when my brain is sounding of a million alarms? I want this so bad, I'm willing to do anything.

And that fucking hurts. It's pathetic but feeling accepted...I've never known that. In the absence of feeling, you grow desperate.

"I don't care," he says, catching his breath, gazing into my eyes. "I don't care, I don't care-"

I stop and wonder, does the world stop and mourn when angels cry?