nebula :: [malik]

[ xxxvii :: tequila ]

Said I'm all up in my feelings,

Doubled up on this shot,

Got me feeling some type of way told you I hate you I don't mean it,

And the only thing that I got,

Is the pain that you've been feeding.

Faded, faded, faded, all because of you,

Now my current situation,

Trying not to think of you, not to break the rules.

Why's it always happen, when I get this way?

- "Drunk Texting" || Chris Brown

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"Ana. Ana. Anais. Anais. Anais Maliiiii."

"Hi, baby - Wait, oh my god. Zayn. Zayn, are you drunk?"

__

"Hey, mate. How've you been, huh?"

Hours earlier, around 9:36, Jesse snorts, loudly. 

"Fuck. You too, huh?" He chuckles humorlessly, staring ahead as the dark-haired boy slides onto a stool at the bar. "Here to throw me a pity party, too? Got to be honest, I didn't expect that from you, Zayn."

Zayn only shakes his head, laughing as watches Jesse pull a glass from behind the counter. A rum and coke is slid his way and Zayn nods gratefully, despite the fact that Jesse dismisses the gesture with a half-shrug and eye roll.

And as Zayn sips at his drink, he eyes his friend over the glass.

Now, he can't help it, despite also wanting to stay out of Magdalena and Jesse's feud. They were adults who needed to patch up their own shit, but this Jesse without a smirk and a toothpick wasn't right. Jesse with dishevelled hair and bags beneath his eyes was concerning. Jesse not cracking jokes at each possible opportunity was really and truly not Jesse.

And Zayn cares about Jesse.

It's funny, he realizes, as he drums his fingers against the wood, lost in his own thoughts, how Jesse and Zach and the rest of the boys started off as his friends, but that's all. They'd just been friends from class, supporting the other's art and individual projects when they had the chance. Now, because of Anais and Magdalena and the rest of their friends, Zayn had been to Mac's far more times than he'd have ever been had it not been for her. Now, because of the girls, Zayn was actually closer to the boys than he'd have been had it not been for them.

And maybe it's selfish, but Zayn doesn't want that - this polyglomerate relationship; this friendship - to change.

He lifts his eyes to the man across the counter and opens his mouth to speak.

"Hey, Jesse, uh-"

"Don't," Jesse shakes his head. "Don't fucking...I already know what you're gonna say and I don't wanna-"

"Really?" Zayn lifts both brows.

Jesse sniffs. "If it's about Magdalena, Zayn, I swear-"

Zayn chuckles, downing the rest of his drink. "Chill, mate," he says, before pushing himself upright and swinging his legs over the bar.

He hops over the counter, smirking as Jesse only shakes his head. Bar's nearly empty, tonight, and he's close to closing anyway.

"I was gonna ask if you were coming to the Arts' opening, actually," and Zayn holds both hands up in surrender. "S'got nothing to do with Mags, if you think about it."