Harry woke up from his sleep with a start, covered in sweat. He looked around and when he realised he was in his hotel room, he sighed in relief.
Another nightmare, he thought.
His cell phone said it was 2 am. He got up, and grabbed the bottle of wine lying on the table. Exactly what he needed. He lay drinking on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
He was thinking about his nightmare, where he was in a hotel room just like the one he was in now, and it started as a memory. He was laying in bed with Zayn, both of them laughing, when suddenly Zayn disappeared, vanished. Harry called for him and as he opened the door in his dream, there was nothing but darkness. He ran and ran but couldn't find a way out, and he cried in despair. He was lonely and he called for Zayn, for everyone he knew, but nobody answered. He was all alone.
Don't think about it, Harry thought, it will only get worse. A shiver crept through his body.
Normally, he wouldn't get a lot of nightmares. And when he did, he would wake up and Zayn would be there on the other side of the bed to comfort him, to tell him softly it was okay, it was just a nightmare.
But the other side of his bed was empty.
Zayn. He'd left the band. He'd broken up with Harry. His heart ached as he remembered all the good times, of all the times they'd been deeply in love with each other. Well, Harry still was. Their love was forbidden, secret. The world couldn't know about them.
And now they won't, Harry thought bitterly, because it's over.
He went to the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on his face, staring at himself in the mirror.
His eyes fell to the t-shirt he was wearing. Usually, he slept with minimum clothes on. Tonight, he was wearing one of Zayn's old t-shirts because it reminded Harry of him, smelled just like him - his favourite cologne, like summer, with a faint hit of mint and smoke. Tears escaped his eyes and he let out a small whimper.
His head could burst from all the pain he was in. He'd go back to pretending like he was okay to the world tomorrow, even though he was deeply hurt inside. He had no choice but to hide it and yet he broke once, right on stage, tears running down his face, when the realization that Zayn wouldn't be there anymore hit him.
He removed his t-shirt, clutching it in his hand, all his tears falling on it. It was too much for him, everything in his life had been linked to Zayn. Everything. He had removed the t-shirt in hopes it would help get rid of some memories that it brought.
His eyes fell to all his tattoos and lay on the significant ones - the butterfly, the leaves, the heart. The heart tattoo, the one he kissed for Zayn. He remembered how Zayn would trace all his tattoos. The heart one was one of Zayn's favourites as well - he always kissed them. Harry closed his eyes and swallowed.
Harry laughed. A humourless laugh. Here he was, removing his t-shirt hoping it would help to forget the memories. But that was stupid because the memories were forever inked on his skin ; in the form of his tattoos. Not just his memories, love.
He stumbled back to his bedroom and sunk to the floor, his face falling into his hands.
If I could fly, I'd be coming home to you Zayn, Harry said, out loud. I would give up everything for you. Everything.
The words and emotions in his mind had started to take the shape of a song. All his concealed emotions taking the form of words. He found a paper and pen and wrote,
If I could fly I'd be coming right back home to you.
Think I might, give up everything,
just ask me to.
