As I get to Zayn's room, I have no clue how this is going to go down. I knock on the door - there's no answer. I pick the lock and enter, just in time to see Zayn shove his arm under the duvet. I narrow my eyes at him.
"How'd you get in here?" He asks.
"I picked the lock," I answer holding up the hair pin. "Can I sit?" I asked.
"If I wanted people in here, would the door be locked?" He snapped.
"I'm going to take that as a yes," I replied, moving to sit down.
"Can you just leave?" He questioned.
"The boys," I started ignoring his weak attempts at trying to make me leave, "are stumped on what's wrong. But I know why you are so upset."
He just looked at me. "No you don't," He shook his head. I look down at the duvet where it's covering his arm. I see a small amount of red that isn't part of the pattern. Without thinking I grab his arm from under the duvet. His arm is covered in cuts - I can distinguish about five different marks, and smeared with blood. I meet his eyes.
"Razor," I hold my hand out. He hands me the razor from his other hand. I slide it in my pocket and then head to the door. "I will be right back. Don't move," I tell him. Without waiting for a response I rush across the hall to the bathroom. I wet a washcloth and head back to Zayn's room, closing the door behind me.
Zayn hasn't moved from his spot and I walk over to him. Gently I take his arm in my hand and start to wipe the blood away. "Why are you doing this?" He asked me.
I don't answer him but continue wiping his arm. When it stops bleeding, I throw the washcloth in what I assume is his dirty clothes pile. I sigh, not knowing what to say. "Why?" I inquired, gesturing to his arm.
He closed his eyes. "She lied to me. I thought - I was stupid. I was stupid to think that someone would actually like me because of me, and not because I'm famous. I thought that she was different. But she was just using me because I'm famous. It...it broke my heart," He whispers the end. I turn away, tears springing to my eyes. I wipe them quickly.
"Do you remember when we met at your meet and greet?" I asked him. He nodded. "Well I realized two days ago, that that wasn't the first time that you and I met." I said.
"What do you mean?" He asked confused.
"When we met, you weren't the guy that everyone knew as Zayn Malik from One Direction. You were just some stranger who interrupted what I was doing," I explained. He looks at me, even more bewildered. "Before I say anything else, I want you to look at all of pictures and tell me if you see any of One Direction or specifically of you," I tell him, holding out my phone.
"I thought we were talking about my broken heart," He says looking through my pictures. He lands on one and I know why - it's the picture that I took when here at the hotel, and sent it to him. "I know this picture," He stops scrolling. I push his hand down.
I pull his head closer and press my lips to his. "It's you?" He asks after I pull back. I nod.
"I never lied to you. And I was completely honest. I only found out you were you two nights ago. When I heard Sophie's voice after she texted me saying she was going to meet Zayn's girlfriend, it clicked and I ran away shocked. That's what I had realized." I explained. He sits there shocked. "I never lied to you Zayn." I repeated. I looked down at his wrist again.
"That wasn't the only reason why I cut. My grandma is in critical condition," He says blankly.
I have no clue what to do now. Improvising, I pull him towards me and rest his head in my lap. I stroke his hair and I watch as tears stream down his face.