50 Shades Of Gay.

Chapter Fourteen.

~O~

Niall was kind of functioning, if functioning meant sitting on the couch dressed in actual clothing while blankly staring at the wall.

So, maybe he was barely functioning, but he couldn’t find the will power to get up and go do something, even simple things like showering, eating, or peeing.

It just took a lot of effort and sometimes, such as now, exerting that effort was just too much work.

He had been alone in the apartment for two days, only leaving to go to class, and he had avidly been avoiding everyone.

This didn’t mean that he wasn’t attached to his phone, though, because he always had the device clutched tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white as he waited for a text that wouldn’t come.

He practically jumped with shock every time it vibrated, but was disappointed when the one message he so desperately wanted wouldn’t come.

And, to make things worse, Liam had taken to texting him a lot, which got his hopes up, only to have disappointment crash down and spread everywhere.

Obviously, he was waiting for Zayn to text him, but the dark-haired boy had cut contact completely since telling Niall he had found another place, so Niall knew he was waiting in vain.

However, it didn’t stop him from hoping that maybe Zayn felt the same way he did and would give in and text him.

So, imagine Niall’s surprise when Zayn’s name flashed on his phone screen, indicating a text message.

Flipping his phone open quickly, he read, holding his breath all the while.

[From: Zayn Malik (; 6:21 PM]

I’m coming by to pick up my shit.

And…that was it.

That was it?

“Ugh,” Niall groaned, flopping over on his stomach and shoving his face into the rough material until he could barely breathe, the air all warm and stuffy as it went down his throat.

He was in the state where he honestly had no idea how to feel.

He had all these emotions intertwining and mixing, but it was just hard to make sense of it all.

There was anger, both at himself for not telling Zayn sooner and at Zayn for overreacting.

There was sadness for losing Zayn, who had been one of the brightest points in his life so far, even if he hadn’t truly realized it at the time.

There was hope (like 0.0000000000001% of hope) that Zayn would come into the flat to “collect” his stuff, only to confess his undying love.

And then, there was that stupid, annoying, frustrating, tingly, warm feeling of extreme like, or fancying, or adoration- or love- for Zayn.

Maybe he should just stay on the couch for the rest of his life.

Honestly, Niall felt as if he could definitely do that.

The couch was comfortable, it was warm, and it didn’t ask for any feelings or just anything in return.

Niall groaned again.

What was he even doing?

He didn’t move, though, not even when the key turned in the lock and he heard the door open and Zayn walk into the flat.

It was odd, how he could still feel Zayn’s burning gaze without even looking, but god did he feel the way Zayn’s dark eyes once-overed him.

Niall felt as if he were on fire under Zayn’s inspection.