half truths ,, l.s

6

HONG KONG, ASIA. 18 MARCH 2015.

It's already quiet. Harry knew that after their last show with Zayn would be shit, that everyone would be on edge and snippy, but he didn't expect the silence to come so quickly. There wasn't a fight afterwards; everyone just went to their respective rooms quietly, and that was that. The band became a four-piece as soon as they walked off stage, and nobody knows how to react to it.

Louis' moody silence made Harry antsy, so he told Louis he was going to go for a walk. Louis had looked defeated when he left but didn't say anything. He gave up on pulling answers from Harry a while ago, and now whenever Harry's being closed off and mysterious, he just lets it happen.

He thinks about going to Zayn's hotel room for one last depressing conversation, but decides against it. There's no point. Everything Harry told Zayn means nothing now, because as soon as Zayn leaves, Harry's not going to talk to him for a long time. All the progress he made, all the opening-up he was doing is going to leave with Zayn.

He ends up eating in the mostly-empty cafe downstairs. There's only one other person there, and he makes sure to sit as far from the person as possible. He orders a bagel with no cream cheese and fruit, and eats it quietly by himself. Zayn made him promise to eat at least one meal a day, and Harry hasn't done his one meal yet today, so here he is.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, the second time since he sat down. He pulls it out this time, and sees two texts. One is from Louis saying goodnight love, please turn the telly off when u get back and one from Zayn saying i really wanna talk to you mate.

He ignores both, and he's about to put his phone away when Zayn calls him. Harry hesitates before answering, because he has no real reason not to. There's nothing fair about making Zayn feel guilty for not being able to be Harry's emotional crutch anymore.

"Hullo," Harry mumbles. He stabs a strawberry with his fork and lets it stay there.

"You're not with Louis, are you?" is Zayn's hello back, and it makes Harry laugh.

"No, 'm not. You that afraid of him, mate?"

Zayn grumbles something that Harry can't make sense of. "I just don't like disappointing him, is all," Zayn says, sounding strangely vulnerable. "You know how it is. He's not a person you wanna disappoint."

Harry nods to himself, but doesn't say anything because Zayn did. Zayn disappointed them all, and thousands of others.

"Where are you, then?"

"Cafe in the hotel," he answers, and then kicks himself for it. He still has half a bagel and some fruit left; he won't be able to eat in front of Zayn. "I'd rather you not come, though."

"As long as you're eating, I don't care," Zayn says. After a hesitant moment, he sighs loudly. "I'm glad you've stuck to the whole at least one meal a day thing, mate, but I hope you realize I meant that as a starting point. Like, I thought you'd work your way up to eat normally again. It's almost been a month, and you're still eating like shit."

Harry's face drops. That's not what he wants to hear. He's been making progress; small, slow progress, but progress nonetheless. He liked the idea of having a goal for himself everyday, one that he can actually meet. Eating once a day gets him through the day, but also keeps him as thin and healthy as possible. (Not healthy, he mentally corrects himself. But not falling over dead.)

"Look, H," Zayn starts. He sounds cautious. "I really can't have you falling off the wagon 'cause of me."

"The fuck does that even mean?"

A sigh comes over the phone. "Just, like. . . I don't want to leave, and then find out a month later you've overdone it and hurt yourself somehow. You've been doing better. I don't want you to get bad again."