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Zayn Malik is looking at a window display of shirts and ties, debating whether or not to go inside, when he feels the pressure on his back that comes with feeling watched. He turns toward the feeling and finds Harry. Harry Styles is standing across the street from him staring at him with wide, hungry eyes and slightly parted lips. He looks beautiful, like he always does.
It's been one month and thirteen days since he last saw him. He isn't pining, honestly. It's just that Zayn had spent months thinking that he may marry this man, that he had found "The One," whatever that means. They fell hard and fast and it was beautiful until it became something that hurt more than it should.
With that thought, the shock wears away and Zayn's muscles tense. He eyes dart around and he grabs for Louis' wrist instinctively, momentarily forgetting that Louis was called into work today. He looks from the empty space beside him to where Harry is making his way toward Zayn.
Zayn takes a look around. It's a bright day, thousands of people milling up and down the street. He fills his lungs for seven seconds, breathes out for eight. Again. He rolls his shoulders back and faces the display again.
When Harry reaches him, he turns to him with a set jaw. Harry looks softer than he did then. His mouth full now that it is no longer pressed thin in distaste or anger. It's his eyes that Zayn notices first though. There are thick creases at the sides and Zayn gives a cursory glance back down to Harry's mouth to find that he's smiling at him. Zayn swallows and he feels his shoulders droop.
"Zayn," Harry says and he pulls him into a hug.
Zayn's shoulders hunch into his body and he exhales shakily, nodding. "It's good to see you too."
"How have you been?" Zayn's heart is beating weakly and the sides of his head feel tight with a forming headache. Harry doesn't wait for a response, "I’ve been thinking of you."
"Have you?" Laughter is bubbling inside of his stomach and he holds it in his throat. His eyes are narrowed with the effort. He reaches up his hand to run through his hair, forgetting he's done a big chop. Harry steps closer to him at the awkward movement and Zayn fights to stand still. He is not afraid.
"Yeah.” Harry’s eyes are tinged with regret and Zayn looks away. There is a man across the street bent down to gather a stack of files that have fallen. His hair is buzzed short, only slightly longer than Zayn’s and his neck is bent while he talks into the phone at his ear. Harry puts a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, startling him. His breath comes quickly. “I miss you.”
The rush of anger lifts his head. There were things that were good. Even in the worst relationships, there are moments of reprieve, but mostly, mostly Zayn is just happy to have left before it got any worse.
He huffs a sigh and speaks, not cruelly. He’s more exasperated than anything else. “Don’t do this, Harry. It was what it was and now it’s over. We don’t need to have coffee or catch up like old friends. We were never friends.”
Harry looks wounded regardless. “We were once.”
“Friends don’t lie to and manipulate each other.” Zayn’s mouth curls up. “They don’t try to control each other or use each other to boost their own ego. They actually respect the other’s boundaries and don’t make them feel like even having hurt feelings over all the horrible shit the other person is doing to them is some great crime.” He’s getting louder and catches someone turn their head toward him as they pass by. His chest is seized with the rage, his arm tight.
He’s never hit Harry back but right now, he wants to slap that stupid, innocent expression off of his face. He was done making excuses for Harry months ago. He’s not going to let himself believe that Harry doesn’t know any better.
“I never meant to hurt you, Zayn.”
“Odd since you got such a kick out of doing all the things that did.”
Harry licks his lips, eyes sliding to the side, and Zayn’s eyes follow the motion.
When Harry turns back to him, his face is blank, his eyes piercing Zayn’s. “I know that I hurt you,” he says deliberately. “I know it doesn’t matter what my intention was but I did, I didn’t stop hurting you when I could have. I didn’t put your needs first. I was so scared of losing you that I was lying and trying to control you to keep you. Stupid.” His mouth turns down in self-deprecation. “I lost you anyway.”
It’s a reflex from before that makes Zayn’s breath hitch and take a step closer. Harry’s apologized hundreds of times but they’ve never been so lacking in excuses and shifts of blame. They’ve never been an outright, unambiguous admission of fault.
Zayn’s eyes catch the twitch of Harry’s eyebrow, the expansion of his ribs with a large breath.
“I understand that you’re angry and that you don’t love me anymore.” His voice breaks and Zayn’s heart clenches even while his eyes narrow. “But it doesn’t stop me loving you, Zayn. It doesn’t.” He sniffles and rubs at his wet eyes. “I want you to feel safe. I want to protect you. Even from me.”
“Don’t.” He leans away from Harry but his hand is there cupping his cheek and Zayn hates that his skin still ignites under his touch, hates the way his reluctance dulls and Harry’s words drown out the voice inside of him telling him that Harry can’t have unlearned the things he’d need to to be a safe person for Zayn to be with. “Please.”
Harry steps closer, his body curling around Zayn and making his breath speed up though the only physical contact they have is his hand on his cheek. “I’m in a program. I can be better. I promise.” He shakes his head once. “You won’t believe it but let me show you. Trust me one more time.”
Zayn can’t catch his breath. The sudden blaring of Would you light me up? Really set me on fire and be there when I’m burning? shocks Zayn and he grabs for it (Would you hold my head ‘neath the water tap and elbow me if I get too loud) to mute it. It’s a missed call from Louis, probably asking him to pick up something for him on his way home. His breaths are shaky and his eyes down on his phone catch the short clenching of Harry’s fist.
“Harry,” he chokes out, eyes shooting to his face.
Harry’s face is tight, lips thin and chest heaving. “You’re still talking to him, Zayn? After everything? He’s the reason we aren’t together anymore. He’s the one who filled your head up with nonsense and turned you against me.”
“That’s not true, Harry,” he shakes his head.
Harry huffs and makes a move toward Zayn. He startles and instinctively shoots his arm up to block a blow but Harry only slides his hand down to Zayn’s throat and his other alongside it, just resting. Zayn puts his arm down and reaches for the front of Harry’s shirt.
Zayn is still apart from his shaking hand passing down Harry’s chest repeatedly.
“Look at what you do to me,” his mouth turns down. “I’ve been learning a lot about what it is that makes you drive me so crazy. I’ve been working through my issues and I know that I can be better, Zayn.” He steps a little closer, breath brushing against Zayn’s trembling face. “I can be better with you and God, I know I can’t live without you.
“These past months,” he swallows thickly, “please don’t make me go through that again, Zayn. I’ve only been able to hold on thinking that maybe I can make you see how much better we are together than apart. You have to --”
Zayn’s lips press together. He takes a step back and a breath to steel himself. His chin lifts. “I don’t have to do anything, Harry. I don’t have to be your reason for living and you aren’t going to manipulate me into being with you again.” His lip curls. “If you want to kill yourself, do it.” His gaze drops to the side. “I don’t want you to. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you, Harry, but I can’t do this thing anymore.”
His hands wave between them. “You bullying me and making me feel sorry for you through it.” His face crumbles and he looks up at Harry who is staring at him steadily. “I’m not yours anymore. I don’t ever want to be again. You might change. I want that for you – a healthy relationship – but it won’t be with me, Harry, because I can never trust you not to do what you’re doing now again. I could never get angry with you and not think you’ll ‘lose control’ and hurt me.
“I could never be open with you without worrying that you’ll use that information against me someday. I don’t love you.” He exhales deeply with the realization. He didn’t notice Harry’s hands moving as he talked, so full of indignation and quiet rage, but he feels the tight squeeze on his bicep, the pull of the hair at his nape. He laughs. “I don’t love you and I don’t want you. I won’t ev--”
His words cut off as Harry drags him down the street, around the corner from one of the shops into the alley. He doesn’t bother to fight, his hand grasping onto Harry’s arm but not tugging. His anger flees as quickly as it had built up. “Harry.”
“I’m gonna fucking kill you. Do you think I’ll let you humiliate me?” Zayn’s back hits the wall with a thud, his head smacking into the brick. Harry lifts up an open hand.
Tears slide quickly down his face now and he tries to call his anger back up. He is tired of being afraid, tired of appeasing so that he can get through this moment. Tired of always fearing what Harry will do in the next. “Go ahead, Harry! Just do it! You’re a coward and I’d rather die than be with you again. All you ever do is hurt me,” he sobs. “I’m so fucking exhausted of you.”
He stumbles to the side when Harry’s backhand hits him. Harry grabs his head in both of his hands and shakes. “Is this what you wanted? You want to make me the bad guy when you’re the one who’s fucking tearing my heart out.” His mouth latches onto Zayn’s, hard and fast. “If you could love me as much as I love you,” he says, forehead resting on Zayn’s, hand tight around his throat, “you’d understand, Zayn. You’d see.”
Zayn’s hands push uselessly against Harry’s shoulders. He turns his head away only for Harry to rest his head in the crook of his neck. He wants this to be over. Why did he have to be on this street, at this time, on this day? After all this time, he thought… he doesn’t know what he thought.
He takes shuddering breaths through the coughs when Harry’s hands slackens. His expression is soft and his eyes tender. Zayn hates that it makes his heartbeat stutter. “I’m tired of playing these games with you.” His hand cups Zayn’s cheek and brushes away the coming tears. “You’re going to come home.”
He doesn’t trust his voice to answer, so he stays silent. But Harry has always preferred obedience in action than platitudes. His eyes are stuck on a crumbling brick over Harry’s shoulder. He can’t look at Harry while he nods. He can’t.
“Where are you staying?”
The sound that leaves his throat is halfway between a whimper and a whine. He can’t, he can’t, his head hits the wall with a crack.
“Where are you staying, Zayn? You’re coming home.”
“I’m, I don’t,” he mumbles. Harry’s hand tightens on his throat and he brings his hands up to his wrist. “Please, Harry. Please. I’m sorry,” he squeezes out.
Harry’s expression stutters and he lets go of Zayn completely with a sigh. “You’re pathetic.” Zayn has crumbled at his feet and he knows he should stand lest Harry be tempted to kick him, but his body is shaking and his stomach is turning and if he could spare a thought, he’d be surprised he hasn’t sicked up.
Harry gives a weary sigh and crouches in front of him. “Why do you make me do these things? Everything has to be an ordeal with you.” He runs his fingertips gently on Zayn’s scalp. “Don’t make me ask you again, Zayn.”
The swallow hurts. He takes a look up and down the alley. It is the middle of the day and dozens of people must have passed by this alley in the few minutes they’ve been there. Dozens of people who heard and have done nothing. No one is going to step in. No one is going to save Zayn.
Harry’s hand is curling in impatience and Zayn thinks that Harry might actually kill him here. He’d read once that the first step to murdering someone is threatening to do so. He might die thirty feet from the open street and these posh, expensive shops. Or he might die in a month or two after happening to glance up and catch a lustful look from the waiter.
He can’t win.
He can’t go back.
“I can’t go with you. I won’t.” The defiance would be more impressive if his face were not tear-streaked nor his voice so hoarse. There is no anger, only resoluteness. “Do whatever you’re going to do, Harry.”
Harry stands up, his face contorted in rage. “You --”
“You can’t even last one conversation hearing me say things you don’t want to hear.” His eyes fix on Harry’s face as he uses a hand on the wall to stand as well. “You’ve got problems. You need help and I can’t be the one to give it to you. I’m not going to change my mind out of fear or pity.”
“Zayn.”
He leans his head back onto the wall, wincing slightly as the bump makes impact. “You want to kill me? Yourself? What are you waiting for?”
Harry’s hand is shaking, his expression unreadable to Zayn. His own heart is hammering into his ribcage and each breath feels like it’s ripping through his throat but he meets Harry’s eyes and he refuses to look away. He is afraid. God, he is afraid. But letting it control him is not an option.
Harry’s breath is just as quick and his stare wide-eyed as if he is seeing Zayn for the first time. His gaze runs over his face, catching on the sharp fall of his chest, that the wall is supporting him more than his legs are but his chin is high, stare unyielding.
“You think you can make it without me? All of the things I do for you, who’s going to take care of you? You need me, Zayn.”
His chuckle is without humor. “Yes, how will I do without you.”
“Zayn, I swear, if you don’t come home now, it’s forever.”
“Then let it be forever.”
Harry leans back on his heels and his jaw juts out in frustration. “Fine.” He turns swiftly away and walks toward one of the alleyway openings.
Zayn exhales a gasp. He waits until Harry has rounded the corner to allow himself to sink to the ground. He sits there for several minutes catching his breath. The tremors subside and his shoulders and eyes droop. He feels around for his phone and slides his finger over Louis’ missed call.
“Where’ve you been? I’m dying here,” Louis whines.
It startles a laugh from his chest and then the sobs are coming quick again.
“Zayn?”
“I’m sorry, Louis. Just. Could you come get me?” He rattles off the approximate address of where he is and blinks sleepily.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna be.” And for the first time in the month and half he’s been hiding out at Louis’, jumping at every unexpected sound, he believes it. “Think I’ve got a slightly concussion but, yeah, I’m gonna be alright.”
“Okay. I’m coming. Twenty minutes. Stay on the line with me, okay?”
“Yeah, ‘kay,” he breathes.
By the time Louis gets there, he feels more alert and steady on his feet. “Must have been the sudden lack of adrenaline.”
“We should go to the hospital to be sure. Shit, Zayn, what did he do to you?” He asks, reaching up toward Zayn’s neck.
Louis’ arm stays around his waist though Zayn can walk on his own. It’s a comforting weight and he finds himself leaning into it regardless.
“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t let him,” he sighs. He drops into the seat and Louis hovers, making sure his feet are in and pulling the seatbelt across his chest.
“Let him what?”
He shrugs and closes his eyes.
“Hey, stay awake,” Louis snaps.
Zayn’s eyes shoot open and he sits straighter. His mouth forms a pout. He is suddenly so very tired but he thinks of Harry’s gobsmacked face and smiles. So, maybe it is a concussion, he thinks but his eyes are still alight with the victory.
“I didn’t let him take anything else from me.”