But I'm in Love With You

If I could burn my memories, I would. If I could take a lighter to a series of photographs and words and music and everything I associate with him, I would. And if I could show you everything I’ve seen, you’d burn them too.

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14. #14

He is smiling at me – but it wasn’t really a smile. Smiles were happy and vibrant and infectious. The shape that Zayn’s mouth had taken was brimming with sadness; almost regret. I couldn’t really look at it: that wasn’t him. Not really.

‘Hey,’ he says softly.

I shake my head, struggling so hard with that quivering lip. ‘How are you?’

The supposed smile disappears and is replaced with a frown. ‘That’s not the right question, Scar.’

I force a grin. ‘What are you talking about?’ I stand and start toward him, arms outstretched. ‘How are you and the guys doing–’

He catches my hands in one swift movement and holds them fast, leaning so close to me that I can see those flecks of green in his dark irises. ‘Don’t do this to yourself – you don’t need to put on a show for me.’

I narrow my eyes and tug at his grip. ‘For Christ’s sake, Zayn,’ I mutter, ‘don’t be such a drama queen...’

He tightens his grasp. ‘Listen to me–’

‘I don’t want to listen to you,’ I say, and continue to struggle.

‘You could have told me, you know,’ he says, ‘I would’ve been there for you...’

‘Oh, you would?’  I bite sarcastically. ‘Even with that bitch tagging along?’ He flinches at that, and I stop struggling for a moment. Bite my lip. Don’t start crying, I beg inwardly, please not now...

I could stop the tears – after all, I’d had plenty of practice – but it was the anger that I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t help shredding him to pieces because it stopped me, if only for a mere moment, from tearing myself to shreds. It was the whys and the what ifswhy did I go on tour for months on end and leave her in that damned hospital? What if I had stayed? Would she have held on until I had got there? Because she died as the plane landed – or so I was told. I didn’t even have my goodbye.

‘I’m always here for you, Scar,’ he murmurs, ‘you know that.’

‘Do I?’ I snap. ‘Is that why I left? Is that why I didn’t answer your calls? Is it?!’

‘Scar...’ he begins softly.

‘Don’t call me that!’ I bark. ‘Don’t bloody call me that!’ I finally wrench myself away and stagger slightly in the dry soil at my feet; waver in the unnecessarily high heels. Reaching for them, I tug them off and throw them into the dirt, staggering on my shaky pins. A silence has fallen over us and, eventually, as my eyes catch his again, I allow a breath to escape that I didn’t even know I was holding. ‘Where did you go? You just left me–'

He shakes his head ever so slightly. ‘I don’t know what you mean...’

‘When you were with her!’ I snap. ‘Where were you? Where were you? I needed you–’ I choke then, and he reaches out for me again but I pull away; drag in a ragged breath. ‘I needed you! Where were you, Zayn? I was always there for you! Why can’t somebody do the same for me? Just for once, why can’t somebody do the same for me?’

He catches my hands as they whirl to my face and although I fight him initially, it was inevitable that I would give myself over, wasn’t it? Because he was about the only one left that I really loved.

‘It’s not fair, it’s just not fair,’ I sob into his neck, his hand rubbing my back softly as he rocks me like a crying child.

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