The Catch | Zayn Malik

The Catch ; Chapter 37.

37.

Blythe fumbled with the key lock, tired already as it was. It was two in the afternoon, a sunny June afternoon in Blythe's hometown of London, England. The tour ended unexpectedly earlier then it was supposed to. Yet, Blythe didn't complain much about that. She was beginning the miss the warmth of her own bed, as oppose to clean hotel room suites and the small bunker in the massive tour bus. Already arriving home very early that morning, boarding off a long flight from America, clothes and suitcases were scattered amongst the floor.

Shuffling through the stack of mail roughly, Blythe began to throw every advertisement and uncollected bills on the floor. After being away for two months, she realized how lonely it must've been in her home. As well as the thick stack of mail that was sitting in her small box down in the lobby. Throwing down the last advertisement she once held, a thin postcard now rested lightly in her hands. Not even bothered to examine the card, Blythe immediately knew who it was from. She mentally prepared herself for the load of bullshit coming her way.

Instead turning over the card, she slowly stared at the beautiful photograph. It was a picture of the Eiffel Tower at night. The structure shone with light as small beads were illuminating picture. In the bottom left hand corner, a simple message of 'Wish You Were Here' read, following by a small black ink heart. Not handling herself, she flipped over the card and began to read it. Blythe's breath felt short, her eyes squinting from the hatred and frustration over Zayn. In result, Blythe slammed the postcard down on the counter. She wasn't about to go through this again. Repeatedly, she said she was done. Done with everything. Blythe made sure to remove Zayn from her life, officially.

A broken tear seemed to make their way down from her beautiful eyes. Down her cheek it slipped, a thin finger picking it up from falling. Blythe took a glance at the card, her stomach churning dangerously. Flicking the card onto the floor where she couldn't see it, she took a deep breath inwards. This time, she wasn't about to break anything.

A slow knock was heard at the door. Blythe's eyebrows furrowed in deep measures, wondering who was at her visit. Figuring she couldn't stand there forever, Blythe made her way to the door. On her tiptoes, she blinked through the peephole. Her heart practically dropped. The mussed hair and scrabby shadow on his chin was slowly coming into form. From this angle, Blythe could see his head was pointing down. She also noticed his fingers twiddling nervously, as if this was a big deal for him.

Although her heart began to beat more faster than usual, Blythe couldn't help but roll her eyes annoyingly. She knew there wasn't any way to get out of this situation. Wrapping her fingers around the brass knob, she opened the door gently. Zayn's head shot up from his neck, staring deep into her eyes. Blythe could feel her knees unbuckle from their spot.

"Hi." Zayn said in a scruffy, unaudible voice. Blythe took a menacing gulp. Instead of replying back, she remained silent. Staring at Zayn as if she had authority over him, made her look rebellious.

"H-How was your tour?" He stumbled horribly. Blythe fought all her strength to not roll her eyes.

"It was fine." She replied back, her voice hard. "Yours?"

"Lovely. It was-lovely." Zayn stated, his eyes averted to the ceiling. A quiet sigh was heard from them both as they stood there, in eachother's presence. Zayn hadn't exactly knew why he made his way over, but his mind then made it up itself.

"Can we talk?" Zayn asked, a tired expression showing on his messy face.

"About what?" Blythe testified.

"Don't be stupid. I think we both know 'what'." Zayn replied, starting to get annoyed by her righteous attitude. Blythe groaned in defeat and swung her door open, allowing Zayn to enter. Leading him to the kitchen, she sat on the barstool as he stood on the other side of the granite island.

"Alright then, let's talk." Blythe hissed. Folding her hands on the counter, she sarcastically gave all her attention to Zayn.

"Well, here it goes-" Zayn started, slamming his palms down on the counter.

*

"OK." Blythe said, after two minutes of silence meant for contemplating. Zayn straightened up, obviously shocked.

"OK? OK? What do you mean 'OK'?" Zayn shouted, circling the kitchen like a madman.

"OK as in, 'OK I have an understanding and I have nothing else to say.'" Blythe stated matter-of-factly. A hand flew to Zayn's head as a soft groan was heard from his throat.

"Nothing? Nothing at all?" He asked, desperately wanting to know more about what she thought. Yet, a different Zayn he wanted her to pour his heart out to him. Tell him about her feelings, telling him that she loves him and begging him to take her. Blythe shook her head in repl, as small silence overcame them.

"I just have one question," Zayn started, his middle finger scratching his chin. "Why did you kiss me?". For once, Blythe was speechless. No witty comebacks, or no nagging insults. Mainly because, she hadn't had a real reason. Or she did, she just didn't want to admit it.

"What? I didn't kiss you." She mumbled , seriously hoping that Zayn would come to his senses. Clearly, that was a one in a million chance. Zayn rolled his eyes, irritated of her antics.

"Buck up sweetheart. I asked a question, and I want an answer." Zayn testified, drumming his fingertips along the granite counter. Blythe rolled her eyes, not wanting to play his stupid game.

"You're beginning to get really annoying now." Blythe sighed, jumping out of the stool. She rounded Zayn and headed towards the fridge. Clearly, she was upset about everything. But daft Zayn looked over it.

"I thought we could look past this and become friends!" Zayn whined, throwing his hands in the air. He was exasperated of her attitude, and just wanted everything to become normal.

"Friends? Friends!?" Blythe repeated, her voice shrieking with anger. "What do you mean 'friends'? I'm sorry Zayn, but how stupid can you be?" Blythe shouted, closing the fridge door with heavy force. Zayn gave a slight jump at Blythe's sudden outburst.

"Sorry I ever asked." Zayn mumbled. Turning on his heel, he began to stomp his way towards the door.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Blythe yelled, following him. Stopping at the end of the couch, she realized that his hand was already gripped on the handle.

"Out to snog my wonderful, loving, girlfriend!" Zayn screamed, flinging the door open. It hit the wall loudly, probably creating a hole. At that moment, it was as if steam were coming out of Blythe's ears.

"Then don't let the fucking door hit you on your way out!" Blythe shouted, throwing the remote control at Zayn. Hurriedly, Zayn stepped out into the hallway and slammed the door shut. Not caring if Zayn heard (or anyone for that matter), Blythe balled her hand in fists.

"I hate you!" She screamed her loudest, not even sounding like herself.