Echo Of Us • Zarry

BF 1

"Are you here to break up with me?" - those are Harry's first cohesive words to Zayn after close to two months of radio silence. He nearly winces when they leave his mouth. Stating the obvious assumption isn't the best game plan.

Zayn shakes his head minisculely. "I just wanted to talk to you." He puts his right hand into his jeans pocket and takes it out after a few seconds. Harry's eyes follow his every movement. Believing the reality of the situation is difficult, almost like waking up from a wildly realistic dream and struggling to find your footing in the real world. Nothing feels right, nothing seems as if it's in its rightful place. The world around could fall apart with the next step you take, crumbling down around you and throwing you back into your nightmare. Zayn doesn't look bad, Harry notes in his mind. His hair is neat, no bags underneath his eyes. He isn't pale or terribly skinny. He doesn't look like he's been crying. Harry wished for it secretly, for Zayn to be such a mess without him that he couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't breathe without Harry next to him. That was a fool's wish because Harry knows Zayn can exist without him. He's been fine without Harry. He's had great times. He's been happy. He's fallen in love with someone else. For some inexplicable reason, Harry's always the one who's a fucking mess. He's the one drinking and running and left sobbing on the bathroom floor.

"Come on in then," Harry breathes out and braces himself for heartbreak. He steps to the side, pulling the door open wider. "I've Evie here, so don't freak out when there's something furry rubbing against your legs or pouncing at you." Once Zayn's inside, Harry closes the door, not locking it just yet. He starts walking towards the sofa, Zayn silently trailing behind. He didn't take his boots off and now they make annoying tapping sounds, but Harry clenches his jaw and doesn't say anything. At this point, Zayn should know Harry doesn't like it when people walk around his house with the shoes they wear outside.

"Dobby and Stitch are gonna be jealous," Zayn quips as he sits down on the sofa. Harry gives him a half-arse smile. He stands a few feet away from the sofa, just a step away from the wall by the fireplace. His arms are crossed in front of his chest as if they're trying to hold Harry's composure like a toppling tower of blocks.

"How have you been?" Zayn asks. He puts his hands together, elbows on his knees. Harry almost laughs. "How am I?" he raises his brows momentarily. "I'm sure my mum told you I wasn't doing well, didn't she?" Harry doesn't give Zayn the change to answers, he only notes his surprised expression. "I'm okay now. Despite what tabloids are saying, I'm completely okay."

"That's good," Zayn nods once. "Listen, Harry, I- I don't even know what to say." Harry chuckles, bitterness staining it. "Honestly, I've been wracking my brain, trying to like, prepare a speech or whatever they do in romantic films and stuff. But there's nothing, absolutely nothing."

Harry nods, his head hanging low. "Cool," he says upon lifting his head. "That's grand, isn't it? So you have nothing to say to me? Nothing about our wedding that was supposed to take place in a few weeks? Nothing about our life together?"

"No, that's not-," Zayn sighs, sinking into the sofa. His hand comes up to his forehead, his long fingers tracing the non-existent wrinkles. He sits up straight again like a cat ready to fight. Where is Evie, anyway? "I didn't mean it like that," Zayn says, his voice measured. It's a long shot from their explosive fights in non-descript hotel rooms years and years ago.

"Okay, well, if you're not going to talk, I will," Harry jumps in. He catches Evie jumping up on the chest of drawers in the entryway from the side of his eyes but ignores her shenanigans. "I've done a lot of thinking lately," he continues. Zayn's watching him silently, his joined hands still hanging between his thighs. "I've been tidying up the house and I've gone over some old stuff. I've gone over our entire relationship in my head thousand times over. Where did it go all wrong? Back then and now too?"