𝘾𝙍𝘼𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊 𝙔𝙊𝙐 ↣ 𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉

CHANGE YOUR TICKET

We had an interview the next morning.

Of course, we did.

The entire fan base was freaking out. They needed some kind of explanation, and the remaining members of the band were meant to supply it.

Management decided that they wanted us to get on a big program first. Naturally, they chose the Ellen Show.

The boys and I ended up at a studio. I was tucked into my own dressing room, staring at the clothes they set out for me. The shirt was Zayn's. I knew it was Zayn's, the stylists knew it was Zayn's, and the fandom would know it was Zayn's.

I ran my fingers over the material. I groaned and pulled my shirt off, and slipped into his instead. My breath caught in my throat, because it still smelled like him.

I washed his bedding on the bus, and he had taken all of his clothes with him. There was nothing on the bus that smelled like Zayn, or that even belonged to Zayn. Not anymore. But this shirt? It was him.

I padded out of my dressing room and into the boy's. I ignored them changing and busied myself on my phone.

"Mickey, come here, please," one of the stylists called. I walked to him quickly and he grabbed the front of my shirt to tie it up in a knot.

"Hey, watch your hands, mate!" Louis exclaimed. He grabbed onto my hips and pulled me back. I hadn't even realized he was close enough to me to do that.

"I'm just trying to do my job," the guy said in a deadpan voice.

"You're fine!" I said, shaking my head. "You're good, I think I'm just not gonna tie it. Thank you, though." The guy nodded boredly and turned around to start fixing Harry's shirt. "And you need to chill," I said, turning back to Louis.

"He just grabbed onto you, I know you don't like that!" Louis countered. I raised my eyebrows.

"Down boy," I said playfully. Louis pouted. "I'm okay, Lou. You hate me, remember?"

"I don't," Louis said, bottom lip pouting.

"Louis," I mumbled. I cupped his cheek gently and then forced my feet to walk away, leaving him alone.

"One Direction, Mickey, we need you on set in two!" Someone shouted. I looked at my reflection, smoothed out my shirt, and carefully applied a bit of mascara. Waterproof mascara.

"Time to go explain this," Liam mumbled from behind me. He gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. "Coming?"

"Yeah," I said. I nodded my head to the other boys. They followed Liam and I out of the dressing room and down the familiar hallway to the set. "How about we go sit?"

"Let's," Harry said. He pushed forward. I followed the boys, wanting to sit on the end. I didn't want to be asked anything. I didn't even want to be in the interview.

We sat down on the couch. I was between Niall and the arm rest. The squeeze wasn't as tight as it was when we were in the show with Zayn six months ago. Nothing was the same.

Ellen sat down in her chair and leaned in to talk to us before the show started. "How are you guys?"

"As good as we can be," Liam said. I pressed my lips together and let him answer.

"Good," Ellen said, "I'm sorry about Zayn. Really, I am."

"Thanks," Harry said. I crossed my ankles and folded my hands.

When Ellen introduced us, the studio audience clapped hesitantly. I smiled weakly and waved before I looked back down into my lap.

Then, I looked away, because I realized my nails were still the shade of burgundy that Zayn had picked on my birthday.