Reaper [Zarry]

Harry

"Zayn," I exhale.

Touch me, yeah
I want you to touch me there
Make me feel like I am breathing
Feel like I am human

The lyrics are so sensual, his fingers skimming my skin.

"I found your note," he caresses my cheek, eyes wet. I feel helpless, heart shattering as he bites back tears. "A suicide note?"

"It wasn't a suicide note," I reply softly.

"Well it sure as hell felt like one," his tone pierces me.

I'm deflating, body draining of its color, turning stone cold.

Did I really want to die? Is that what it was? Is he right?

"You can always talk to me Harry, please don't be afraid," his voice cracks, hand trembling.

"I thought you weren't scared of death," I frown, brows furrowing in confusion. "Why are you reacting this way?"

"Stop," he pulls away, tugging at his hair. "This is different. Dying and taking your life are two completely different things. Besides, this isn't about me. I'm fucking terrified, okay? I don't want to lose you."

My heart stops and then I'm in a different dimension, mind wandering.

Drip. Drip.

The flame of the candle flickers, the water swishing around me.

My hair is damp, chills pricking my arms, the water growing colder. I hold my breath and slip under, creating a snall ripple.

It doesn't seem so bad. It's so simple; so painless.

My vision is blurred as I blink back tears. I can make out distorted edges. General things but not the details: raven black hair and caramel skin. Honey colored eyes peering down at me, a small shiver coursing down my spine as his thumb strokes my wrist.

"I can't lose you," he whispers.

They're spilling, little droplets everywhere. On my shirt, on the white sheets but he's gathering me in his arms.

I'm sobbing, fisting up the hem of his thin cotton knit shirt.

"Angel," he murmurs, cupping my neck.

The record player is still on but I'm blocking the noise, focusing on the tick of his heart. I'm inhaling his scent: amber, jasmine, black currant and nicotine.

"Don't leave me," he pleads. "I need you. You don't understand. I need you, I need you," he chokes on his words. They come out as a string of broken syllables and I can't quite understand why I mean so much to him.

I'm pulling him down and he chuckles, knees bracketing my waist.

"You're so beautiful," he sighs.

"Why do you never say the same about yourself?"

I crane to kiss him, arms wrapping around his neck. Zayn Malik isn't real.

"You aren't human," I whisper as our lips detach.

"What?"

His eyes grow wide, heart thudding away in his chest.

"You're too perfect."

I feel his body relax. My fingers card through his hair and he smiles, eyelids fluttering closed.

We're both startled as my phone rings on the nightstand and I rush to pick it up.

"Hello?"

My face falters, all my energy draining. There goes all the fight I had left. Just like that.

"No," I say exasperated. "It's not true. You're lying! You're fucking lying," I cry out, eyes burning again.

Zayn's eyes meet mine and a chill runs through me.

What was that?

"Babe," he says gently, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Are you okay?"

I'm angry, heart clenching up like an angry fist. This is so unfair.

Everything is so damn cruel.

"My mum-"

That's when I lose it, chucking my phone at the wall, body shaking with rage.

My face collides with a pillow and I scream and scream and scream until my throat is raw and I swear to God my lungs are going to give out.

I hate how much it hurts. I hate how deeply I fucking feel everything.

I'm fisting up the sheets until my knuckles turn white, hoping deep down that if I stay face pressed into the pillow I'll cut off my air supply and suffocate but Zayn is prying me from the pillow, saying look at me. Look at me Harry.

"I can't," I admit weakly, burying my hands in my face.

I feel so damn ugly.

"Make it stop Zayn."

"Please," he begs. "Don't do this. Tell me what is it, I won't-"

I'm pushing him hard, hands slamming into his chest and he gasps, body tumbling off the bed.

I've lost my mind. I'm hurting the one person...the only person that has ever given a shit.

"What the fu-"

"I'm done," I heave out breaths, voice quivering. "With this. With us. With everything. I've had enough."

"She died," he mutters to himself, eyes darting. "Oh my-"

He covers his mouth with his hand, muffling his cries.

I'm so afraid.

Maybe he feels as equally broken as me, tears swimming in his eyes.

We share silent tears, his body slumped against the wall, my body sinking deeper into the mattress.

"I hate this. I hate it," I'm letting out ear shattering screams.

The record player haunts me, a soft melody echoing through the room, needle pressing to the vinyl. It just keeps spinning spinning spinning, parallel to my brain.

I curl up, hair sprawled across the pillow, knees pulled up close to my chest.

It doesn't matter than I hurt him because I feel his warmth pressed against me, breath on the nape of my neck, fingers lost in my messy curls.

"I hate seeing you suffer like this."

I think I love you. I'm too scared to say it. Would you say it back? I love you. You're all I have. Please love me too.

"What can I do to make it better? I'll give you everything I have Harry. I swear, I'll stop at nothing to make you smile again."

I'm too exhausted to respond, eyelids growing heavy.

"You deserve happiness. This hurts me so much. I know that's selfish but it fucking hurts."

"Nothing," I whisper hoarsely. "Nothing will make this better. You can't fix this. You can't just bring someone back from the dead," he snaps. "I'm asking for nothing."

Then again, this is something. I like the way it feels, his fingers massaging my scalp, his lips pressing to my neck.

It's comforting and it's all I need.

"Harry," he sighs.

Touch me, yeah
I want you to touch me there
Make me feel like I am breathing
Feel like I am human

"Just don't stop touching me. Never stop."

A/N: I'M ACTUALLY EVIL.