You Make Me Strong

Chapter 8

"Hazza, wake up babe. Your phone keeps going off."

Harry grumbles and rolls away from the hand that's trying to shake him awake. "I'm tired..." he whines.

Nick chuckles softly, pulling him back to face him. "Haz c'mon, Zayn won't stop calling. It might be something serious."

The younger boy grumbles again before pushing himself up and taking the photo from Nick, rubbing his eye as he unlocks the device to see a ton of missed calls and texts from his best friend, the last one sent seven minutes ago saying:

Harry, I'm not going to keep bothering you, just let me know you're okay when you see these. Please. I'm worried. Z x

"Fuck," Harry swears as he runs a hand over his face. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck."

"Y'alright?" Nick asks tentatively.

"No, I need to go home. Now. I'm really sorry," he says apologetically as he pulls his jumper on and heads to the door to shove his shoes on as he tries calling Zayn just to keep hearing the voice mail.

"It's okay, Haz. We can meet up some other time, it's all good. Are you okay?" Nick asks softly, handing Harry his bag.

The model looks up with wide eyes, nodding his head. "Yeah, I'm okay. Um, thank you for, um, letting me stay here last night. Sorry if it was, like, a bother of anything," he says as he gives Nick a hug.

"It's okay, you're always welcome here, you know you are. Go and see if Zayn's okay, yeah?"

Harry nods one last time before rushing out and all but running home, not even giving if a damn if paps see him out and about like this. How could he care when his mind was running wild?

What if Zayn was really mad at him? What if Zayn didn't want to be friends with him? Harry could understand why he wouldn't want to be friends with him, but he was still scared.

Zayn was kind of all he had left. Well, and Nick too. But Nick was just a friend, Zayn was a brother, even if not by blood.

What if Zayn finally realised Harry was a drag, and a burden, and was really not worth all of the extra effort that was needed.

They always had to make a get away plan whenever they went somewhere just in case Harry got overwhelmed. Harry wouldn't go somewhere if Zayn wasn't there to be by his side, which became problematic at events or shows.

Harry often came to sleep with Zayn, when the nights became too much and he needed the comfort. Zayn always needed to check in on Harry, to make sure he was okay, okay mentally, okay with his job, okay with his personal life.

What if he'd finally had enough? Harry never should have gotten mad at Zayn. He always did this, he always ruined everything.

You're such a little fuck up, Harry the voice in his head taunted.

Harry tried to push those thoughts away as he walked up to their front door, shoving the key in the lock with shaky hands and, after the third attempt, opening the door hastily.

"Zayn?" he shouts, running around the apartment to try and find his friend, "Zayn where are you?"

He's not fucking here! Harry sinks to the floor as tears start streaming down his face in panic, grabbing the phone from his pocket and ringing Zayn again, still hearing the same damn voice message.

"Fucks sake, I'm sorry, pick up!" Harry mutters to himself thickly as he re-dials and re-dials the same number over and over, with no luck.

Harry suddenly can't catch his breath as more tears starts streaming down his face, Harry in a constant state of panic.