*ON HAITUS* Unknown. || h.s

Seventeen.

Is this worth continuing?

...

"Sorry about this," I say timidly, feeling like nothing less than a burden.

"Don't worry about it.  With Gemma gone I realized how much I hated living alone.  So really, you're doing me a favor," Zayn smiles as he pulls my suitcase from the trunk.

As I follow Zayn back up to his apartment, I can't help but hope that I reassured Harry enough last night to enjoy his time with his family.  I would hate to be the cause of his worry when he should be spending time with them before they part again.

When I woke up this morning with a clearer head than I had the night before, I questioned my late night decision to call Harry.  I couldn't fall asleep in Zayn's bed, the smell too unfamiliar in the darkness and the absence of Harry's body next to mine making me more vulnerable to my emotions.  Calling him seemed to be a good idea at the time, thinking that he had the right to know and that I didn't want him to find out about Niall's engagement the way I did.  Telling him that was one thing, but what I'm most worried about is that I told him where I am staying.

He seemed quite collected as we ended the phone call so I can only hope he took my word and trusts me enough to let it go.

"Niall called this morning," Zayn says casually as he sets my suitcase down inside the door.

"I'm not surprised," I mumble, my heartache still lingering and sore from the blow it took last night.  "He probably knew I wouldn't answer if he called me."

Zayn chuckles lightly, scratching at the scruff on his jaw. "That's exactly what he said."

I smile gently as I take a seat at his small kitchen table while he cleans up the mess we had left from breakfast.  My fingers find interest in the loose thread in my leggings.

"He wanted to meet, right?" I ask quietly, the thought not sitting well in my stomach.

"You know him well," Zayn cocks an eyebrows at me and I laugh quietly, meeting his gaze as he waits for an explaination.

"Niall's been my best friend since I was eleven.  I've never really connected with anyone the way I have with him," I tell him and he nods slowly, his eyes dropping with mine to watch my fingers tug at the thread.  "I guess I thought I knew him better than I actually did."

Zayn sighs and I hear the soft clatter of a frying pan in the sink.  When I look up he's pulling out a chair across from me, his eyes thoughtful as he folds his hands on the table.  He watches me closely for a few moments as he rubs his chin and jaw, a nervous habit I've come to know.

"I think you should meet with him," he says eventually, voice clear and stern.

I know he's right, but old habits are pushing me to disagree.  Avoidance has always been my way of coping, I've always run away from my problems until I am ready to deal with them.  I have not ever dealt with anything head on except small spats and disagreements.  I want so badly to shake my head and tell Zayn that I'm not ready, maybe another day.  But even though my mind in pulling me to run, my will is pushing me to stand tall.

"What did he say?"

Zayn smiles, accepting my question as an agreement.  He stands and continues to clean the kitchen as he speaks, the grin lingering on his pink lips.

"Well, first he wanted to have you to his to meet Zoey, but thought it might be too much too soon considering —"

"Yeah, too much."

Zayn chuckles at my immediate dismissal, amusment clear in his light eyes.

"So then I suggested he come here," he says, turning to me for approval.