Neon Red [Order The eBook] [Zayn]

17

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?

If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?

Zedd – Clarity

Without him, I felt halved. Pitted. Devoid of something major. With him I felt stoned. Addled. Euphoric. Kamikaze. These extremes had disordered my life beyond functioning. I couldn't tell whether I was safer with him or without him, and that scared the hell out of me.

As I exited the elevator on the 30th floor, he was stood at the end of the hall, leaning back against the wall and watching the ceiling. The sole of one Chelsea boot was planted irreverently against the white paint. He looked every bit the college dropout he was. Graphic tee featuring the Rolling Stones tongue logo. Black ripped jeans accentuating every slope and curve of his figure. 

When he heard the elevator deposit me, he started down the hall without speaking. I broke into a full-on sprint, crashing into him midway and shoving him backwards through the stairwell door. Our breathing was erratic, amplified by the acoustics as if it had passed through a megaphone first. Thankfully, the chances of anyone choosing to take the stairs this high up were slim. Still, I didn't give a fuck who found us at the moment. This was war. This was our reckoning.

We stumbled backwards onto the small, ill-lit landing; his back thudding against the wall. Our kiss was manic, like two feral dogs mauling each other in an alleyway. "I missed you so fucking much, baby..." I rasped. "Youh hear me? Youh fuckin' hear me?!" He nodded, slumping down the wall as if his knees had given out. I dragged him back up, clutching his shirt at the waist.  

Tears clouded my eyes. For the first time in a long time, I grabbed two fistfuls of his ass, massaging it, reacquainting myself with it, slipping my hands beneath his waistband to feel his bare flesh. Then I broke the kiss and planted my lips to his neck, detecting his pulse against my open mouth.

"Z..." he panted, gulping for air. "Don't stop...don't stop..." He was so ready for me. He had been dying without me. The deprivation was self-inflicted though, so I felt no sympathy. He had cut me off. I was glad he had suffered. I should've made him suffer more. Now he knew how much he needed me, and he was begging me to make love to him. Touching himself, losing all composure. I had done that to him. Only me.

"Who've youh been sleepin' with?" was my crazed whisper. "They're not takin' care of youh...I can see it all over your face..." He looked miserable now; regretting how accurate I was.

"No one."

"Bullshit." I stopped and grabbed ahold of his face with one hand, "Youh can't goh without it that long. Who was my cheap fuckin' replacement? Huh?"

"N-no one. I swear—"

"Yeah, you're stutterin' now. Youh too embarrassed to say?"

"Fuck you..."

"Youh done punishin' me, then? Youh feel like an idiot yet? That other person must've made youh feel like shit—"

"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

"I know youh want to..."

"Leave me alone..." he croaked.

"Youh knew that shit could never work, right?" My lips curled into a heinous grin. "Youh know how we are. Youh know we can't be apart that long—"