Chapter 12

"Okay, let’s talk about the hate you have been getting lately, especially you, Zayn. So, you have been getting a lot of stuff about your religion? Or just hate about you being self absorbed? Would you like to talk about that?" the interviewer asked at a group interview on national television.

"Um, I’d rather not." he said softly, looking down at the ground.

I was sitting on the end of the couch, with Liam and Niall between Zayn and I, Harry and Louis sitting on stools behind us.

"Oh, come on! Don’t you have something to say about all of the comments on your weight, your looks, anything?"

"I think we all try not to look at that stuff, acting like it’s not there. Bringing that up isn’t going to help." I stated, crossing my legs, just staring deep into her eyes. “Plus, their opinions aren’t the ones that matter to us; only ours." I finished and she signed off, obviously annoyed with me.

"Well, I had a lovely time." Louis smiled, lighting the mood, as always.

"Me too." Zayn pulled a fake smile and stood up, walking from the set to the dressing room we were all sharing. I slowly stood as well, walking with Niall as he ranted about all of the restaurants he thinks we should try out before we left New York.

"Definitely, it’s a plan." I giggled at his adorableness and started thinking about Zayn, “So, do you have a special girl?"

He blushed, smiling nervously while looking down at the ground and nodding, “Yea. Her names Kaylee."

"Picture. Now." I demanded with a smile and he pulled out his phone, only having to show me his wallpaper. It was the most beautiful picture of a gorgeous, blonde girl with Niall’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, him kissing her temple while she giggled, they were adorable together. “Aww." I cooed, taking his phone o get a closer look.

"Yea." he smiled and looked at his phone one time before stuffing it back in his pocket. We arrived at the dressing room and I opened the door, finding a tired looking Zayn laying across the couch, scrolling through his iPod with his earbuds in.

"Ready to go?" John asked me and I nodded, turning to see if anyone else wanted to go, Zayn jumped up immediately.

We walked out to the big black van that we came here in and silently rode back to the hotel. When we got there, the first thing Zayn did was quickly walk up to his room, and we all know why.

The interviewer had got to him.

I chased after him and ran to his room, just barging in, not bothering to knock. I tried to get into the bathroom, where he had ran to, but that door was locked.

"Zayn!" I called, knocking harder on the door.

"Go away!" he screamed, pain audible in his voice.

"Zayn, open the fucking door right now." I said shakily and sternly.

"No."

"Zayn! If you cut yourself, I will come in there and do the exact same to my wrist!" I shrieked, tears falling freely down my cheeks. He didn’t respond, just clicked the lock and stayed silent.

I ripped open the door and found him standing in front of the sink, his wrist laying on the counter, tears falling hard. The small puddle of blood around his hand clearly visible, and I ran over to him, taking the razor from him and pressing the tip of it to my arm.

"No!" Zayn screamed, pulling it from me.

"What? What’s the difference in me doing it when I have to just let you get away with it?!"

"Because you’re beautiful, and perfect, and have no reason to do something so horrible!" he cried, wiping the blood from his skin.

"So are you, and I’m trying to tell you that!" I sobbed back, burying my face in my hands, not wanting to watch him patch the wound he had created. I reached for the razor again, but he snatched it before I could even touch it.

"No, I’m not letting you do that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I’m the reason you are doing it."

"Well I can barely live with myself knowing you are hurting yourself, Zayn, it’s not fair to any of us." his eyes bored into mine and I just took his face in my hands, “There is no good fucking reason for you to think you aren’t good enough, because you are perfect." I whispered and brushed away his tears with my thumbs.

His right hand lightly touched mine as he leaned into my palm, and his face inched closer to mine.