Your Creation • Zarry

43. Fix

September 2013

At the end of August on our last night of press week and after our TV performance in New York, I had told Zayn that I just needed some space to clear my head for awhile, so basically I hadn't spoken to him for the last two weeks.

It was already mid September and I was keeping myself plenty busy by spending time with my Mum and my sister Gemma, which consisted mainly of eating loads, playing a lot of scrabble and laying around in fields reading Charles Bukowski poems and finding myself in this sullen, depressed phase of being this drunken, self-loathing artist.

But getting invited to a mega ton of London Fashion Week events also happened for some reason, which was still very strange to me. Honestly, I really didn't understand any of it. I hardly even considered myself to be that fashionable, but the more media attention there was on me meant the more attention our band would have and that is exactly what our management wanted.

But, as always, I never complained. I was just grateful to even be someone that the world cared about at all. Plus, being apart of Fashion Week had actually increased my interest in fashion and I decided in the future I would become more invested in it. I liked the idea of dressing up, of wearing jewelry and fun clothes. I started realizing that I kind of wanted to be a part of that world as I spent more time around it.

I had been starting to feel a little better, actually. Being distracted and taking a break from being around Zayn all the time was quite cleansing for me mentally, but of course it could never last. We were headed to Australia, New Zealand and Japan in two days for our final leg of tour and I was now at Ben's house, in my attic bedroom that I still loved staying in, packing up some of my things and listening to Coldplay.

And then I heard it - the all too familiar knocking pattern on my door to the tune of "Come Together" by The Beatles.

Zayn walked in wearing a white t-shirt, leather jacket, black pants and a pair of tan suede boots looking almost exactly like he did the first time we ever hooked up, which was in that exact attic bedroom over eight months ago and that memory flashed before my eyes, giving me a subtle prickle on my skin.

"Uh, hello? What are you doing here?" I asked.

It's not like he had called or texted or even asked if he could drop by alright, I guess we were doing that thing still where we just showed up unannounced.

"Oh I dunno, just thought maybe we should have a chat and sort things out before we go to Australia and get stuck with each other for another two months," Zayn replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You have my phone number you know."

"Yeah come to think of it I do. It's 1-800-DICKHEAD, yeah? Still the same number?"

I tried not to smile.

"I rather talk to you in person so this way you can't hang up on me," Zayn continued, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Alright, fair enough," I replied and took a seat next to him. "Talk to me."

"I just want you to be honest. Can you just tell me what's going on? What's on your mind? We've always told each other everything."

What I said next just sort of fell out of my mouth without me even thinking. This had been happening a lot lately.

"Honestly? I don't want to talk about anything anymore. I think it's pointless talking about shit because we just go around and around in circles and always end up in the same fucking position. So I think we should just do what we did before, which started in this very room, and not discuss our feelings. At all. No strings attached, remember? Let's just do that."

I don't think I had ever seen that particular facial expression come from Zayn before. He looked genuinely hurt. It was written all over his face.

"Wow."

I said nothing else.

"So...let me get this straight, yeah? You were the one who brought feelings into this. You were the one who asked me if there was something more between us until I finally gave in and now you want to just turn it all off after everything we've been through? What happened to everything is going to be okay, we can get through this? You were always the one reassuring me and now you're the one backing out..."

And at that moment in time the song "Fix You" by Coldplay had just come on shuffle in the background. I swallowed hard. That was such a sad song as it is and I was feeling way too emotional for the moment. I could already feel tears forming in my eyes and I had to look away from him. I felt Zayn's hand squeeze my shoulder.

"Harry...look at me."

I couldn't. I didn't want him to see me crying.

"Harry look at me...please."

I refused.

Zayn got up off the bed and moved to the other side of me, lifting my chin up so that I had to look at him. A few teardrops were rolling down my face and I felt like a soft, pathetic little bitch. I think the last time he saw me sad cry was when we went to Ghana.

"Have I ever told you that you have an adorable crying face?" Zayn asked, wiping away my tears with his finger.

I tried not to smile but I failed, feeling it creep onto my lips softly.

"I hate that I'm making you so upset," he continued, sitting down beside me again and drawing my body in for a hug. I fell onto his chest instantly and wrapped my arms tightly around his torso while Zayn held me close.

"I hate that you're engaged."

"I hate it too."

"And I hate that I don't hate you," I added.

"And I don't hate that you don't hate me."

I didn't respond right away. Instead I just stayed there in his embrace, listening to the song playing in the background and breathing in his comforting scent and while my tears finally stopped, it was still probably the most vulnerable I had ever felt.

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you

I sighed.

"I feel broken. Can you fix me?"

Zayn's hold on me tightened and I felt him place a small kiss on the side of my head while his fingers roamed gently through my curls.

"I don't know, but what I do know is that if you want things to go back to the way they were...I just don't think that's going to be possible for me," his voice spoke softly.

"Why not?"

"Because I love you."