These Violent Delights (Zirry Love Triangle)

Fifteen

Just as promised, Liam called Harry when he got home that night. Harry had left all of his books at school, and Liam didn't seem too concerned with whatever homework was waiting for him, so they ended up talking for hours. It was seamless, their conversation flowing just like it had on their date. And best of all, it ended with Liam murmuring a sweet, "Goodbye, boyfriend."

Harry was smiling as he hung up the phone, but it rang as soon as he set it in its cradle. 

"Miss me already?" he teased as he answered it.

The voice on the other end of the line wasn't the one that he'd been expecting. "Why has your line been busy all fucking night?"

"What do you want, Zayn?" Harry asked, the buzz he'd felt while talking to Liam already starting to slip away.

"What the fuck's going on with you and Payne? He's not like your boyfriend or anything, right?"

Harry paused for a moment before responding. He didn't owe Zayn any explanation, and suddenly the word boyfriend didn't sound as appealing as it had just a few moments before. "Not that it's any of your business, but yeah, we're dating," he answered quietly.

Zayn's pause was even longer than Harry's had been, and he sounded defeated when he finally spoke, his voice small and thin. "Why'd you come back here, Harry?"

"You know why," Harry said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the kitchen wall. "You know you do."

"I wish you'd stayed away. It was so much easier when you were gone."

Zayn's words felt like a punch in the gut. "Why though? What was easier?"

"Everything, fuck. You just make everything so goddamn hard."

"I make everything hard? You're the one that can't admit that you like me!"

Harry heard Zayn's sharp intake of breath, followed by seconds of silence that seemed to stretch on and on. Harry found himself holding his own breath, wondering if he'd pushed Zayn too far.

He had.

"You think I fucking like you?" Zayn sneered at last. "You're even dumber than you look if you think you're anything other than a warm hole to me. You and Payne deserve each other. You make me fucking sick-"

Harry hung up.

The sick little voice inside his head wanted him to stay on the line; wanted Zayn to confirm all of his worst suspicions. Wanted him to hear just how much Zayn despised him. But the part of him that wanted to preserve what little dignity he had left had heard enough, and wished that he'd never picked up the phone at all.

***

The next morning he found a note in his locker, not laying at the bottom like it would have been if someone had shoved it through the slots, but folded into an origami crane and sitting neatly on the shelf. He knew who it was from before he opened it. Zayn could break into anything, and he'd been briefly obsessed with origami when they were about nine, sitting still for hours perfecting his skills while Harry whined in the background, wanting Zayn's attention back on him, where it belonged.

Harry told himself that he didn't care what the note said, but he opened it anyway. It was just two lines, written out in Zayn's neat script.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it. xx

Harry knew that he should crumple it up and toss it in the trash, but instead he folded it back as best he could and tucked it into a corner of his locker, promising himself that he'd throw it away later.