You Can Let It Go [ZARRY]

Thirty Nine

Harry:

A day later, I’d hardly moved from my couch, waiting for Sylvia to get back to me with the data from IT.

I’d lied to Zayn about that too. There was no work for me to do until I heard from her. I had nothing to do but feel Zayn’s absence in every damn corner of my apartment.

On the second day, I found my backbone and called him.

“Hey,” he answered, sounding sad. And wary.

Afraid of how I’m going to hurt him next.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He sighed. “It’s okay, Haz. . .”

“No, it’s not okay. I just. . .” I scrubbed my hand over my eyes. “It’s so much bigger than me, what I’m trying to do. I just need a little bit of time. I’m waiting on some stuff that might help and then. . . We can go from there. Okay?”

I held my breath.

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I know it’s a lot. What you’re trying to do. I don’t want to stand in the way of that. I’ve been there. Those people need help.”

Hot tears stung my eyes.

He’s too good.

Too good for the world.

For me.

“Yeah, okay, thanks,” I said, my throat thick.

A silence.

“Okay, Haz. Well. . . Talk to you later?”

Jesus, I had no words. Nothing to say that would bridge the gap I’d created between us by freaking out.

“Yeah, talk later,” I said.

“Yup,” he said and ended the call.

I’m losing him. . .

I wanted to call him back immediately, but I didn’t trust myself not to fuck things up worse. I let the phone fall to the carpet and went back to doing nothing on the couch while the TV blared nonsense.

Apathy, I learned, was like a ravenous animal. The more you fed it, the hungrier it got. The less I did, the less I felt like doing.

Two days later, I was still on the couch. I had lost all track of time. There was no news from the office.

Dad’s Halloween party was fast-approaching, and I hadn’t gotten in touch with Taylor about coming with me. To keep up appearances.

To put on the costume of soon-to-be man and wife.

My phone rang. I muted ESPN and rolled over on the couch from where I’d been lying like a slug. I grabbed it without even looking at the incoming number.

“Zayn. . .”

“It’s Sylvia,” my assistant said, her voice breathless.

“Oh, hey.” I coughed. “Did you get it?”

“I got it. All of it. But Azoff knows.”

I bolted up straight. “Shit. I thought IT was going to keep it quiet.”

“He’s got worms everywhere. But holy shit, Harry, these emails. I’ve only scanned a few, but it’s astounding what’s been done. What he’s said. . . I think you have something here. Enough to get him out of your job, but he could also be in real trouble, too. Maybe even do some jail time.”