If there was something Zee could understand and sympathise with, it was relapsing. He’d done the exact same only a handful of months ago. Had even checked himself back into rehab for a short stint. Addiction was a fucking hard battle. One that not everyone survived and Zayn knew that. He knew about the long, painful nights; the cold shakes and the depression. The strain in each muscle when your body didn’t get the fix it so desperately craved. He knew how impossible it sometimes was to just say no. The thought of Dylan, of someone he still loved so helplessly with all his heart, suffering that same ordeal devastated the Bradford-born singer. Deep breath was taken in as he took a seat beside his former partner.
‘It’s alright. You’re alright,’ the male reassured in a hushed voice, hand reaching to settle on Dyl’s knee. Partly because he wanted to calm his shaking and another part to prove to himself this was actually happening. That the other wasn’t a figment of his imagination. It wouldn’t exactly be the first time he’d dreamt of Dylan returning after all. ‘You don’t have to apologise for putting yourself first, Dee. You needed space. Time, whatever. That’s fine. But you didn’t even say goodbye.’ Confession escaped him with a small, sad smile. ‘You were just gone. Like you were never even there to begin with.’ That had been the hardest part. Zayn had been through break-ups before. His failed engagement to Perrie. His relationships with Ariana and Gigi. None of them hurt as much as losing Dylan though because losing Dylan had been completely out of his control and it’d happened without warning, without closure. One minute he had been purchasing a surprise apartment and the next? He was alone. ‘Are you.. DId you get help?’
Time healed all wounds. What a load of bullshit. Time only turned gashes into cuts and cuts into scars, but scar never faded away, not completely, anyway. Especially the internal kinds. The kind that like to rip soul apart, throw it through a shredder and fall off a cliff into an ocean of only sharks. Lately it seemed like his entire life consisted of those types of bruises. He’d traded his clumsiness for a different pain. Whether that be from the loss of Zayn’s companionship, or the relapse of drugs, it didn’t matter. They both left painful traps that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out off. Dylan was pulled away from his thoughts at the familiar touch of Zayn. It was like something in him snapped into place, at least a little. His heart raced, but for a different reason. He felt calmer, safer. Because of one simple touch. “I wasn’t going to leave forever. I planned on coming back.”
His words were soft. Afraid that if he spoke much louder, he would break down into a mental break down. The amount of times he wished he had gone back, said something, or even left a short note. At least it would’ve been something to tide them over. They wouldn’t have to be sitting here right now. “I don’t know. I thought it would’ve been easier. Could’ve come back all better and swept you away.” All filters thrown out of the windows. His heart was speaking, and there was no way to stop it. “I wanted to come here at midnight. Take you by surprise and kiss you, just like every other time. We would’ve been okay.” In his heart, he knew that even if he’d played all of his cards right, it wouldn’t have happened. Zayn’s next worlds surprised him. Perhaps he should’ve been expecting to be asked. However, he wasn’t sure if the truth was something to be handled. His nerves began to quicken again. “I -- I don’t have it, if that’s what you mean.” It was somewhat true. Before coming to find Zayn, he’d stuffed it away in a place he hoped that he wouldn’t be desperate enough to go after. But he wasn’t so sure he could be so strong. “I need you, Zee. I need you to be there for a while.”
