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Summary
Niall doesn’t even flinch as the porcelain cracks and rains down onto the floor. He stands in the doorway and watches for a moment as the man he loves tugs at the ends of his hair and curls into a tiny ball, his tears darkening his grey jeans. An odd sense of satisfaction settles itself in Niall’s stomach because Zayn is finally experiencing what Niall goes through every fucking day of his fucked up life.
And once those three centimetres of black heart are satisfied, the rest of him falls apart and crumbles away and he’d do anything to take away the pain wrenching through Zayn in loud sobs.