All is Fair: Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Chapter 37

I walk into Harry's flat. The smell of eggs and bacon and the warmth of the room altogether overwhelm me. I didn't realize how cold I was until I walked inside here.

Harry is sitting on the couch, watching TV with a plate of his half eaten meal on the table next to him. I pause at the door and stiffen up as I notice him. He raises his head and looks at me with a blank face. "Where were you at, babe?" he says. His voice is so fake, I know he is still mad at me.

"Walking," I respond. I shut the door behind me. I take off my Uggs and leave them by the door.

"I called you. You didn't answer." He points to my phone in my hand. "You had your phone."

I take off his robe and drape it on the couch. "Maybe I didn't want to answer," I mutter, a little too loud, and my eyes flash up to Harry to see if he heard me.

When I meet his eyes, he looks down at his feet and clears his throat.

He heard me, I know he did. I sigh uneasily. Shit.

I act like it didn't happen since that's what he is doing. Harry watches me leave my phone on the kitchen counter and walk to see what is on the television. It is just news, so with nothing left to say I decide to get out of this awful situation.

"I'm going to go change," I tell Harry. He looks at my outfit, which is just the pajamas from last night, and he nods. I walk to Harry's room.

I find some jeans in Harry's drawers that I left here accidentally a few weeks ago. I pull them on and then I put on one of his t-shirts that I never see him wear. I go sit on the edge of the bed. I know I should go out and eat, because he did make food for me too. I don't want to. The tenseness in the room is so obvious that I am scared to go out. I curse myself. Why did I leave this morning without telling him anything? He was already pissed at me from last night, and I knew that was going to last through to this morning. I shouldn't have gotten him angrier. What was I thinking?

My eyes drift to the nightstand by Harry's side of the bed. The lime green post it note that I left him is crumpled up on the floor to the side of it. I can imagine him waking up with a headache, already frustrated from the night before. Then he'd become pissed while reading my note because of how I decided to run away instead of dealing with the problem of waking up next to him. I can imagine him wondering why I have been so stubborn lately, and I can imagine him allowing himself to think that maybe Zayn is the reason.

I sigh and wonder if this did happen, if this is how he felt. I get off of the bed, not able to stand my own mind and its guilt. It makes me laugh that I cannot handle hearing myself think anymore. Everything I think is hurtful to someone, and all it is is annoying.

I take my time in walking back into the living room. Harry still sits on the couch exactly the same. I go sit on the chair he isn't on. As I shuffle into it, I see him cringe every time I make sound.

"Do you have a headache?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Sort of. I took some aspirin."

I mouth 'oh.' "Sorry," I say. I hardy mean it. Hangovers are the consequences of getting drunk, and he chose to get drunk knowing what it would do to him. So he gets to deal with his hangover. He doesn't care much, I've come to realize. He does it all of the time. He loves to drink.

The two of us sit in silence as the news on the television plays. The silence between us is awkward, and I feel like I should break it. I cannot figure out an appropriate way to, though.

We used to never be like this. We were usually never silent. We always had fun. Even when we weren't speaking, it was okay. We would enjoy our silence together. Today I feel as if I am sitting with a stranger.