The Soft Side Of Zayn
Imagine...
It's been hours. I've been here for what feels like an eternity waiting for Harry to come home. The flat seems to empty without him here. Even if recently the halls have been filled with yelling, screaming, fighting, etc.
I love Harry, I really do, but sometimes... He just seems so distant, and I feel like there's something building between us. He's my true love, though. I want to make things work, no matter how long we have to stay in couples therapy, no matter how long we have to stay apart until we're comfortable with each other again. I want Harry for my own, and I know he wants it too. We're soul mates, there's no doubt about it. We've been through our own ups and down, but I feel deep in my heart that we are meant for each other... I just pray he doesn't make any mistakes before he realizes it, too.
I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, and by the time the door opened and I saw who it was, it was nearly dawn. I sat up on the couch and looked towards the door of the flat, to see a drunken Harry with a tousled outfit and lipstick stains on his collar.
"Harry...?" I ask in a sleepy voice, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He slammed the door shut and I jumped awake.
"Harry, where have you been..?" I ask, slowly rising off the couch. By this time, he's staggering towards the couch, towards me, and he looks angry.
"I've been somewhere with someone that makes me happier than you have EVER made me!" Harry growls as he points a dirty finger toward me. I place my hands over my mouth and slowly shake my head with disbelief.
"No... Harry, no. You're lying to me. You're lying, aren't you?" I stammer with questions, none of them being answered.
"Where's Louis? This is a joke, right? Please! Harry please, where are the boys? Tell me you've planned this!?" by now I was crying, backing away from him until I reached the wall. He was laughing at me now, nodding his head.
"I'm not lying, (Y/N). You mean nothing to me anymore. Get out of my flat." Harry took me roughly by the wrist and dragged me out the door. He threw my phone at me and pushed me in the back, away from the door.
"Out!" he screamed.
I didn't know what to do. Where am I supposed to go? I have nowhere, not at this time of night. Harry is- I mean, was, my life. I shared my home with him, and now I have nowhere and nobody to go to. Slowly I walked along the streets of London, looking through the dark windows of homes. There were fires glowing in fireplaces, and people were asleep together. I made it to Zayn's flat, which was dark of course. I was freezing cold, Harry had pushed me out without a jacket. My feet were dumb from the icy sidewalk, and my hands were stiff from being shoved into my pants pockets.
I weakly knocked on the door of Zayn's home, not expecting an answer. I waited. Waited. Knocked again, only this time harder and louder, and it hurt my cold hands. calling out his name through the keyhole, by this time I was just praying for him to open the door. Tears started to stream down my face as I remembered what Harry had done, and I felt pain shoot across my back where he had roughly pushed me around. I rested my head against the door frame and closed my eyes, just mumbling Zayn's name through tears.
When it felt like I had finally frozen to the wood frame, someone finally opened the door. My eyes shooting open, I could see a sleepy Zayn with messy hair standing in his pajamas in the doorway. He didn't see how upset I was at first, as he too, was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"(Y/N)? What are you doing here? It's like 5 in the morning..." he mumbled in his tired voice.
Through tears, I struggled to sum up tonight's terrible events. "Zayn.... Harry.. He- He- He went out and he didn't come home till I was asleep and he was drunk and he pushed me and told me-" Zayn cut me off by taking my hands in his and taking me inside.
