Wild (sequel to Deep) - Zarry AU

Cry

"You don't need to cry, Harry."

Harry was stood in his kitchen with Nick. Nick was visiting LA and had stopped to see Harry's new house. He had seen Harry drunk and emotional many times but today, concerned about something Victoria had mentioned, Nick had made sure Harry stuck to orange juice. So the tears were real and inexplicable.  

Nick frowned and shook his head.  "Haz, it's ok.  Simon will sort this. You know - this is exactly what the evil emperor does best."

"It's not about shutting down the papers," Harry sniffed. "I want the bloody tape."

"Look – even if you get it, they'll definitely have made a few copies by now. You're never going to be sure it's deleted."

"No- that's not what I meant!" Harry's voice was rising,his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. Nick was stunned. He had never seen Harry like this.

"K, hun... just, just ... why are you so upset?"

Harry sniffed again and fiddled with his rings.

"Because it's... it's all I have. All I can have."

"What do you mean?"

Harry's head was down, his long hair tucked behind his ears. He leaned back against the vast American-style fridge and twitched his foot side to side like a metronome.  Finally he spoke.

"It's all I can have of him and me."

Nick stared, speechless. Then Harry began to talk – eyes still cast to the floor - but so fast, so unlike him, the words bursting forth like a flood, his arms crossing and uncrossing and his hands clenching in fists as he spoke:

"I miss him, Grimmy. I miss him so much. I'll do anything. I even went to try a buy a fucking piece of art today just because it reminded me of him! That tape... it's our night... our one night of ...."

Nick shifted closer to put his arm around Harry's trembling shoulders. "Wow, babe. I never realised you had it so bad."

*

Nick had made coffee (he couldn't find any decent tea in Harry's minimalist kitchen) and as they drank they walked around the house discussing the look that Victoria was building day by day.

Harry gestured to the blank grey wall of the second living area – "I was gonna put it there – would have looked perfect."

"Why don't you just put up a big poster of him instead?" Nick said, his eyes wide and innocent as he looked at Harry over the tea mug. 

Harry was silent for a second and then pitched forward, clapping his hand over his mouth to avoid losing his mouthful of tea over the white shagpile. Nick punched the air. "See – I knew I'd make you laugh eventually!"

Trying to recover his composure, Harry picked his way carefully over the carpet to the mantelpiece where he put the mug of tea down as if he were afraid he might still spill it. He looked back at Nick, who was shaking his head.

"But seriously though, Hazza. All this fuckin angst... Why not just pick up the phone and call him?? Or is that just too straightforward?"

"Don't you know anything about Zayn Malik, Grimmy?"

"What?"

"He never takes calls. Hardly ever replies to texts or DMs. Well, not from us anyway."

"'Us' being...?"

"The band. And me... me, especially."

Harry stood at the window, staring into the fading evening light.

"Guess he just wants to get as far away from me as possible."