I'm A Mess // Z.M. (Short Story)

O3.

I messed up this time

Late last night

Drinking to suppress devotion

With fingers intertwined

I can't shake this feeling now

We're going through the motions

Hoping you'd stop

And though I've only caused you pain

You know, but all of my words

Will always be low

Although the lies we spoke

When you're my road, walking me home

 

Zayn once again spent the afternoon with her, butterflies on his stomach every time Claire would giggle and look at him, her eyes scanning his eyes to his lips. And they would approach, and kiss. That passionate kiss that would drive both of them crazy. That made them fall in love harder for each other every single time.

But after this, he needed to go. He would drive home and sleep. He always repeated this on his mind.

Enter the car, drive, enter home, sleep.

No stops. He would manage it. And someone called him. Someone asked him to come over. There was alcohol for him and the girl needed to talk. She just fought with her dad.

All his friends needed Zayn to comfort them. So he went. It was just to comfort a dear friend. He would love her for that moment, as she would be there. And then he would leave her place and she would just be his friend, and he would love her again one day.

Nobody understood this about Zayn. This passenger love he had for people. Maybe it wasn't love. He just didn't know what to call it. But he needed to tell his friend he loved them, or else they'd think he was some sort of robot that had any feelings.

Unless you talked about Claire.

His friend was at her place, crying and sobbing so much that Zayn felt bad for her. She was shaking as they both entered her house and he put his jacket over her body and hold her. She put some wine for her and whiskey for him and they sat on the couch. It was silent for a while, just her sobs filling the room. And her head rested on his shoulder and she started to talk about what happened. His hand rubbed her arm up and down, trying to comfort her. Zayn wasn't good with words. How could he be good with words when he didn't even know what to tell himself? How could he comfort someone by giving advises if he didn't know how to care and think?

So he did all he knew. He kissed her. It wasn't Claire. At the moment their lips connected, he knew something was wrong for him. That wasn't the lips he loved, the lips he love to taste. But he needed to love her for now. Right?

And everything happened like it was robotic of him. His hands explored her entire body as he would take every single piece of cloth of hers. And she would kiss every inch of skin as she would take his clothes off. He didn't feel anything but lust. Pure lust. And it felt wrong.

He finished with the girl and she fell asleep. The girl was lucky she was Zayn's friend. He wouldn't leave her to wake up alone. So he stayed for that night. But left in the morning, telling her he was sorry but that was wrong.