Your Creation • Zarry

35. It's none of your business

Zayn and I anxiously made our way toward Paul's hotel room and I could feel my heart beating in my throat. What did we do? Why did he need to speak to me and Zayn? I passed a subtle glance at him but Zayn didn't look back at me and I noticed that the color had drained from his face.

I took a deep breath and let out the cool air before knocking on Paul's door.

Paul opened the door within seconds and motioned for both us to sit down on the edge of the bed. He pulled up a chair in front of us and whipped out his phone; there on the screen was a photo of me and Zayn making out in a lift. You could clearly make out the backside of me and it really could have been anyone, except that you could see Zayn's ZAP tattoo and trademark pair of Dr. Martens. It was definitely us and I definitely remembered that moment.

"So...what's this about?" Paul asked, his face remaining expressionless.

I felt Zayn's body tense up beside me, but he kept quiet, so I knew that was my cue to do the talking. I cleared my throat and did what I do best, which was try to joke around and make light of the situation with some humor because it was my number one coping mechanism whenever I felt uncomfortable.

"That's photoshop, Paul."

"Not now, Harry. I'm not in the mood for games."

Well shit, I guess that wasn't going to work this time.

"Look...we were really drunk. It was nothing. Just messing around a bit. Where did that photo even come from?"

"I got a phone call from Will. He received an anonymous message that one of the hotel guests spotted two boys from One Direction snogging in a lift in the wee hours of the night. And they had pictures to prove it. So he sent me this photo."

Oh great. This photo came from Will, the head of Modest, and this probably also meant that Simon knew about it. Just fucking great. I drifted back to that hazy memory of us in the lift when Zayn and I had gone down to the bar after our show in Louisville and we had a few too many that night. Like, way too many. There was no one around, or so we thought, because the hallways were empty and it was quite late. He and I couldn't wait till we got the room and we may have been a little stupid. Okay, really fucking stupid.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

"First, I just have to know, is there something going on between you two? Tell me the truth."

"It's none of your business," I responded sternly, folding my arms across my chest.

"It's everybody's business, Harry. Do you know what will happen if this gets out?"

"What will happen, Paul? Will the apocalypse happen?"

I was already feeling annoyed and judged by this whole conversation.

"You might not think that this is serious, but it is. You have a job. This is your job. And who is your target audience? Young girls who are all in love with you. Girls who think they have a chance with you. This is your image, boys. This is what you signed up for. And this kind of a story is going to be the only thing people will talk about. It'll be controversial. It'll be in every single headline. This world is filled with homophobia, intolerance, prejudice, and the media will prey on you and eat you both alive. We have a documentary coming out. We have an album coming out...but that's not what the people are going to be talking about. All they will care about are you, Zayn, and your secret romance. Do you think that's fair to Louis, Liam, and Niall? These are their careers as well and being reckless is putting all that you lot work hard for on the line. Do you understand?"

I didn't even know what to say in response. Everything that Paul said was pretty true and I hated it. We knew what we signed up for. From day one it was made very clear that we had to appeal to young girls. That was our target audience and that's what everyone wanted to see. It was drilled into our brains for fuck's sake and maintaining that particular image was their top priority. I loved being in One Direction, honestly. I never complained about any of it, even if I felt like sometimes I wasn't always being myself, even though the media wanted me to be someone else, because it was an opportunity that anyone would be grateful for. I got to perform for a living and it was my dream. I felt like shit. The last thing I ever wanted was to ruin this for everyone.

I sighed and dropped my head down, looking at the floor, feeling a mixture of emotions. I felt ashamed, upset, confused and a little bit scared, and then Zayn finally spoke up.

"I understand," he said quietly.

I looked over at him, but he still wouldn't return my glances.

"I don't know what's going on between the two of you but here's what I will tell you, I don't want to see anymore evidence of it. Jen is squashing these photos as we speak, so they won't be getting out. Don't be stupid, okay? I love you both very much but just...be smart boys."

"Can I go now?" Zayn asked, picking himself up off the edge of the bed.

Paul nodded.

"Yeah, you can go. Get your things together. We're leaving shortly."

I removed myself from the edge of the bed as well and followed Zayn out of Paul's hotel room. I noticed that Zayn was walking ahead of me, like he was trying to get away, and I jogged up to him, catching up and I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him in the hallway.

"Zayn...look at me," I pleaded.

His brown eyes finally met mine and I could see inside of them that he was scared.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not Harry. I'm not okay."

He withdrew himself from my reach and continued walking back to his hotel room. I followed him inside and watched as he quietly gathered his things.

"Can you please talk to me?"

But Zayn didn't respond and started shoving clothes haphazardly into his suitcase. I groaned and leaned my head against the wall, wishing I could just disappear. We had been so good with hiding it this whole time, but we really just had to go and fuck it all up, didn't we? But I wasn't about to let this get in the way of what we had. Nothing was going to break us apart. I wouldn't let that happen.

"Everything is gonna be alright, Zayn. We'll just be more careful...okay? It's not that bad."

Zayn finally looked up at me, gripping one of my shirts in his fist.

"Nothing is ever going to be normal for us, you know that right? We'll always be hiding. Pretending. Playing these stupid fucking games. This shit isn't normal, Harry. It's fucking stupid is what it is."

"Zayn..."

"You ought to go get packed up. Back on the road for us. Just another day in paradise..." he interjected, shoving my shirt into his suitcase.

And the sinking feeling in my stomach grew heavier as I quietly left.