Room 301 [Zarry]

burning out

Lana lights up another cigarette, fits it between her ring-clad fingers and takes a quick drag before letting out a huff of smoke. It swirls around in a cloudy haze. My brain feels the same way, all fogged up and confused.

"So what," she laughs, voice rough from the nicotine. "It was a few bad reviews. If those only those critics could understand what hell you've been through these past few months."

There's dry heat in the air, a stale end of summer feeling lurking. Each corner seems more depressing than the next, junkies shooting up and homeless counting change. There's a heaviness inside my heart that won't go away. The hills are dry and parched, begging for rain. "Wouldn't be surprised if we get another season of destructive wildfires," she says casually, the light in her eyes going dull. They're slightly bloodshot, she has scattered hickeys on her neck, can't remember the name of the man that gave them to her.

She looks like a tragic but beautiful mess, a sad wilting flower. I toss back another shot in hopes of drowning out reality. Everyone keeps staring at me, all whispers and sympathetic glances. "Hey," I gently nudge her side. "Let's get out of here, go somewhere no one will judge me."

"Nowhere," she chuckles darkly. "It's Hollywood."

"What about the Chateau," I ask. She raises her eyebrows, swivels in her bar-stool before stubbing out her ashes in the dirty soot-filled tray.

"Darling, you don't want to go there. Your dreams aren't dead yet."

"Fine," I let out a huff of annoyance, unsteadily finding the ground beneath my feet. "Then I'll just go there myself."

"No you won't," she laughs, pinching my cheeks. "Stop bluffing. Just have a quick hook-up or something, sit down and have a few more drinks..take the edge off."

"Let me try one of those," I say boldly, gesturing to her pack of cigarettes. She wedges one between my fingers, lighter flickering. It glows an eerie unnatural orange and I bring it to my lips, coughing as I suck in a breath.

She can't stop laughing so I try again, trying to get used to the bitter taste. "These are horrible," I complain, voice raspy. "Absolutely disgusting."

"Not when you're addicted," she rolls her eyes, stealing it from my lips. "My lungs are probably pretty charred right now. You don't want to ruin your voice honey. Stay away from these from now on."

"Did he smoke," I ask curiously.

She glances over at me, smirk on her face. "Yes he did. What about it? Some of us here quite enjoy killing ourselves slowly and the taste of ashes on our tongues. At least I limit myself. He wanted to wither away."

Words always dripping with sarcasm and disdain. "If you hate fame, why are you still here?"

"I'm a has-been Harry. My career burnt out like the end of this cigarette and I've accepted that. You're still young and climbing your way. I like where I'm at...I'm comfortable."

I swallow a dose of reality. Is that where my life is heading? The bartender slides me another shot but this one is stronger, burns as it slides down my throat. Lana takes me home, bickers with Zayn as I flop onto the bed. Their shouts slowly rise until the door slams, rattling the bed frame.

"Your friend is a deadbeat," he scoffs. "She wasn't always like this."

He runs his finger along my lower lip, breath warm on my face. "Were you...smoking? You smell like a carton of cheap cigarettes."

"Oh my God," I groan. "You don't have to scold me. Would you like fuck off for three seconds?" I laugh, amused at my pettiness as I play with the rings on my fingers.

"Is that what you really want? What in the hell is wrong with you? I swear I'll search this entire city up and down for the Harry I know. Kit wouldn't want this...she wouldn't want you to be miserable. Screw your big ego-filled head back on your neck."

I chuckle, tossing my rings onto the bedside table. I can feel his anger rising but I'm too complacent to give a single fuck. "I wish I fucking cared Zayn."

There's a sting across my cheek that sends me into shock, mouth gaped open. "Did you just slap me? What the hell Zayn?"

"You don't talk like that about someone you love," he says through gritted teeth. "What's your problem? You promised you would never let anything change you Harry. I don't know who you are. You're just a pathetic stranger, a big fucking loser."

Tears burn my eyes and then he's gone. Poof. Just like that. I reach for the ring around my neck, wipe at my eyes so it can come into my vision clearer. It sparkles and I'm mesmerized, memories of us splashing in the pool flooding my mind. I manage a broken smile, can't stop envisioning her in that pretty white dress and how stunning her eyes were, crystalline like the middle of the ocean. That leads me back to Malibu and melting ice cream cones and us exploring the city streets, hands full of shopping bags. I can see her tossing back a smile, skipping off and squealing when I catch up with her, pulling her into my arms. I can see everything so vividly, her perfectly painted toenails and the blush on her cheeks and the way she looked at me like I hung the moon and the stars in the sky.

Butterflies in my stomach and sand between my toes and the scent of sunscreen and that gentle ocean breeze. Us dancing, stumbling and laughter, me stepping clumsily on her feet. There's her in the studio on the other side of the glass, asking for my autograph and us running from her father. It's hot pavement and chasing sunsets and an endless summer. It's blue skies and sunshine and her blonde hair in my face.

Summer will be over in a few days but I'm not ready to embrace autumn leaves and chilly nights. I'm so scared of being alone. I cough painfully, curse myself for trying that nasty cigarette and smother my face with my pillow.