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doesn‟t ask about Harry, and Harry‟s text messages are too brief to ever

mention Louis, and mostly Zayn wants to beat them both with a rock.

At least Louis has actually started leaving his flat again lately. Small

victories, yeah?

467

Harry‟s been gone for over a month and a half by the time Zayn is able

to set up a Skype date that works for both of them, and Niall comes

over to his flat to join in. Zayn doesn‟t know what to expect at all, but

he‟s pleased to see Harry again.

The internet connection at Harry‟s flat is horrendous, so it takes them

fifteen minutes to get the camera feed working. “Can you see me yet?”

says Harry‟s voice as a fuzzy, pixelated Harry finally appears on the

screen, wearing a blazer and a confused expression.

“Yeah, yeah, I can see you!” Zayn says, smiling and waving. “Nice

blazer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harry says, looking down at his chest. “Just got off of

work.”

The picture gets a little clearer, and Zayn immediately wishes it hadn‟t,

because he can see now that Harry looks like hell. He‟s even paler than

usual, and the circles around his eyes stand out in dark purple as if he

hasn‟t slept in weeks.

“You look like shit,” Niall says flatly, dropping down next to Zayn on

the couch. Zayn elbows him in the ribs. Niall just shrugs.

Harry laughs a little. “Thanks, Niall.”

“Ignore him,” Zayn says, shoving Niall‟s face out of the frame. “How

are you?”

Harry shrugs and twitches out a smile. “Can‟t complain.”

“Yeah?” Zayn raises his eyebrows.

468

“Not without sounding like an ungrateful bastard,” Harry says. “Job‟s

good. Really good, actually, I‟m getting great experience. Bit

corporate, I guess, but good. Flat‟s good. So, like I said. Can‟t

complain.”

“So you feel like shit and you feel guilty about it,” Niall says, hooking

his chin over Zayn‟s shoulder. Zayn doesn‟t even bother to punish him

for that one. It‟s not like he‟s wrong.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry says, hiding a bit behind his fringe. Zayn‟s

always thought it was a bit excessive, but now he sees its strategic use.

“Can we—let‟s talk about you lot, yeah? How are things with Liam,

Zayn?”

Okay, sure, it‟s an obvious ploy, but Zayn doesn‟t mind falling for it. It

makes Harry look a little less like the consumptive heroine of an opera,

first off, so he‟s really just being a good friend. Also, he has a

secondary internal monologue running at all times whose sole subject is

Liam, so it‟s nice to let some of that out. Mostly the being a good

friend thing, though.

He‟s a little worried that being as aggressively, blissfully in love as he

is will just make Harry look more like a melted wax figure of himself,

but instead it perks him up a little bit. “You two are really great,” he

says when Zayn pauses for breath. “I wish I were around to see it.” His

smile fades a little at that, so Zayn launches quickly into a laundry list

of different places around town that he‟s kissed Liam.

He loses track of time for a bit, but Niall interrupts him halfway

through a really great story about something cute Liam did with his

nose the other day. Niall covers Zayn‟s mouth with his hands and

screams at the top of his lungs, and Jesus, he‟s scrawny but he has

pipes on him. Harry laughs, though, which is nice to see, and once he‟s

satisfied that he‟s successfully silenced Zayn, Niall starts into a story of

his own, something about a show at a bar and realising that he had

hooked up with every single one of the bartenders. Zayn licks his hand

to try to get him off, but Niall just breaks off his story with a brief,

“Don‟t give a shit, mate,” before continuing on.

469

It‟s good, it feels normal, just lads messing about and trading stories

with no boyfriends or not-boyfriends there to make things weird.

Except it still is a little weird, the one thing that none of them is

mentioning looming in the background of the conversation. The whole

time Zayn keeps waiting for the question, and when it finally comes,

it‟s on the tail end of a completely random story, some mishap Harry

had on the tube last week with a strange Portuguese man and his dog.

Zayn‟s laughing and Niall‟s laughing and Harry‟s laughing, and then

the laughter dies down, and Harry goes quiet.

“So, um...” Harry says after a long while. “How, how is he?”

His eyes look impossibly sad, and Zayn feels fucking terrible. He hates

feeling caught in the middle almost much as he hates watching them do

this shit to themselves, and he knows there‟s nothing he can say here.

It‟s not his place to try to speak for whatever‟s going on in Louis‟ head,

and even if he wanted to, he doesn‟t even know how to answer.

He looks to Niall for some kind of help, but Niall just scrubs a hand

through his hair and shakes his head.

“I dunno, Harry...” Zayn says. “I mean, is there any way I could answer

that question that wouldn‟t just make you feel worse?”

Harry picks at one of his thumbnails and says nothing for a moment,

and then he says, quietly, “No.”

“You might get a real answer if you asked him yourself,” Zayn says

softly. “If you really wanted to know. I‟ll be honest, Hazza, I only

know what‟s going on in his head half of the time anyway.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Harry says, with a laugh that Zayn

doesn‟t like at all.

470

“Look, mate,” Niall says, sprawling half across Zayn‟s lap so that only

half of his face is visible in the Skype window. “You‟re not happy.

What‟s gonna make you happy? Because you should do that.”

“S‟not always that simple, Nialler,” Zayn says, ruffling his hair.

“Fuck that, yeah it is,” Niall says. “Harry. Why are you sad?” There‟s a

pause, the sound of Harry‟s deep breaths coming fuzzily through.

“I miss him,” Harry says finally, still looking down at his hands. “Even

if we never... even if we couldn‟t ever be together, I just wish I could

talk to him. He was my best mate, you know?”

“You could call him,” Niall says.

Harry laughs another humourless laugh. “You really think he‟d

answer?”

Niall snorts. “I think that there‟s a good chance he‟d ignore it because

he‟d convinced himself it was the right thing to do. Because he‟s a

fucking idiot. But not because he actually didn‟t want to talk to you.”

He leans upright a bit, and Zayn winces as his bony elbow digs into his

thigh. “Give him some credit, yeah?”

“No, I know, I just,” Harry heaves a sigh. “I‟d feel really stupid, you

know? I already feel stupid. I feel like there‟s nothing I can say that he

doesn‟t already know, so I have no idea what I‟d tell him.”

And okay, Zayn had been assuming that Louis was the resident

shithead in this relationship, but maybe there was room for two.

“Really, Harry?” he says, shoving Niall off him. “There‟s nothing he

doesn‟t know?”

Harry frowns a little at him on the screen. “No?”

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. “You love him, right?”

471

There's a pause while Harry chews on the inside of his cheek. "I don't

know. I did."

“And did you ever tell him?”

“No, but—”

Niall interrupts, collapsing flat on the floor with a groan. “You think he

might need to know that, dickhead?”

Harry‟s full-on pouting now. “No, hold on, fuck you guys. If you lot

knew, which you apparently did, there‟s no fucking way he didn't.

Maybe I didn‟t say the words, but I told him every goddamn day. He

knew.”

“Harry,” Zayn says. “If you love him, or loved him, whatever, then you

know him pretty well.” Harry nods. “Then you should know that

expecting him to ever, ever assume something like that is a terrible

idea. Come on, man. He‟s not a stray cat who‟s gonna come inside if

you keep putting food out. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know, but,” Harry‟s face crumples a bit, and God, Zayn hates

being cross with him right now, but he needs to know this stuff. “Fuck,

it's not fair that I had to be the one putting stuff on the line all the time.

It scared me too, maybe not as much as him, but he didn't tell me

anything, he never did."

Zayn takes a moment, and then tries to word things as carefully as he

can. “I‟ve known Louis for a couple years now,” he says softly. “And

Harry, trust me, when the two of you were together I saw him put

things on the line every single day. Maybe it was stuff that feels simple

to you or me, but it was hard for him. And it‟s not your fault that he

didn‟t tell you any of that, but you should still know.”

472

Harry‟s got his head in his hands now, and Zayn can‟t see his face but

he can hear the lump in his throat. "Does it even fucking matter

anymore?" he says thickly. "Like, what's the fucking point?"

Niall leans heavily against Zayn‟s side, and Zayn wishes he would bust

something out, some bit of wisdom that would change Harry‟s mind,

but there‟s nothing.

Harry wipes a hand down his face and continues. “I wanted to be with

him. You know that. And I wanted to think that—I don‟t know, that

just because I loved him it'd work out, but I've kind of figured out that

that's not how things are. Which is shit, but life is kind of shit

sometimes, isn't it? Anyway, it doesn't even matter, because it's over

now, and I have to live with that, you know? I can't stop my life. I've

just got to learn from this and move on."

Zayn clenches his fingers around his knees. That sounds exactly like

something Louis would say.

“Fair enough,” Niall says. “I think this is all incredibly shite, but you

do what you have to do. If that‟s what you think will make you happy.”

"I just want it to stop, honestly. I want to not deal with this anymore,"

Harry says. "That's all I really want right now."

Zayn nods slowly. “Okay. I can understand that.” He wants to drive to

London and drag Harry back to Manchester by the scruff of his neck

and lock him and Louis in a broom closet until they learn to love each

other right, but it doesn‟t look like that‟s on the table.

“Thanks,” Harry says. “Lads, I don‟t mean to end this on such a shitty

note, but is it all right if I sign off for the night? I‟m really tired.” Zayn

would be suspicious, but he really does look wrung out. “Thanks for

this, both of you. It‟s been really good to catch up.”

473

“Same, man,” Niall says. “Don‟t be a stranger, okay? You didn‟t break

up with all of us.” Zayn nudges him hard, but Harry just laughs.

“I know. I‟ll be in touch, I swear. And—I‟m sorry, but would you mind

not passing any of this along? Like, this stays between us, yeah? All of

it.” It looks like it‟s breaking his heart to say it, and Zayn is developing

an ulcer.

“Yeah, mate, that‟s fine,” Niall says. “If he asks, though, what do you

want us to say? If he asks after you.”

Harry smiles a little. “He won‟t ask,” he says, and hangs up.

Louis is doing better, and for once he isn‟t just saying that.

It‟s been slow, and it‟s been difficult, but he‟s edging along. He started

small. At first it was just forcing himself to get up and brush his teeth

every morning at the same time. Just getting up and brushing his teeth,

that‟s it, the smallest little ritual to feel like he could do this, like he

was doing something to get things back under control before

progressing to the next step.

Next he spent two days cleaning his flat, finally taking care of the

stacks of dishes and piles of laundry he‟d allowed to build up. It was

tedious and boring but living like that was only making him feel

shittier, so he put on some Take That and powered through it, Duchess

at his heels as he moved about the rooms. When that was finally done,