CHAPTER 3: DON'T

"You've got something to say. Why don't speak it out loud, instead of living in your head. It's always to say why don't you take your heart out." –the 1975

jessie is on top. i see her as aisha dee from chasing life but curvier & with midnight blue hair & purple strands in it.

Zoey Willow Hunter

 BLOOD pumping as if to save my life, the sound of my heart rendered me deaf. Jessie's eyes were big and concerned, as I walked behind the back door to the store. Seeing him—it drove me crazy with anger and emotion. All I wanted was for him to go away, for this to have never happened.

I put my hands on the closest wall, shut my eyes and attempted to breath properly again. I counted to ten before steadying my breath, my hands were shaking and my legs felt as if they would fail me.

"I'm sorry," I heard Jess say; "you're Nico, right?" A mumbled reply I couldn't overhear came out from him.

She swung the store door open and shouted, "Zoey, I'm having a chat with Nico! Don't worry about me. If you were wondering why we're not chatting here, it's probably 'cause you're being a noisy bitch and listening to us!"

I peeked through the peephole and saw her speaking cheerfully with him, bouncing on her feet like a madwoman. Her purple streaks showed less, hidden beneath the puffy afro she rocked with ease. Nico's face nodded with excitement and he shook her hand. The boy who came into the shop before him, Adrian, began talking to Jessie but she waved to Nico and went back inside. Both boys walked away, Nico cast one last glance at the store and I stopped looking through the hole, afraid that he might have seen me

Jessie pushed the back door open, effectively hitting me in the face. I fell back and hit the paint spotted ground, butt first. She towered over me, which was rare since she was an inch shorter than me, a wavering stern look upon her features. She crossed her arms and then pointed a finger down at me.

"You bloody idiot," she said, stretching her hand to help me up.

By habit, I pulled her down on the ground; the memory of the previous events momentarily erased from my brain. Being away from my friends in Silvercrest was the hardest thing I'd gone through—but at least I had Jessie. I tried to stay in contact with Amir, Joel, Oliver, Diana and obviously James, as much as possible.

But being a thousand miles away from each other made life hard. Lucy and I had fallen out a few years ago, we drifted apart; she changed and I didn't. Aaron moved to Montreal. Fred lived in New York. As for Xandra; she and I hadn't spoken since graduation. Oliver called every once in a while; he now lived with his boyfriend, Uriah in Toronto.

A smile lighting my face, I watched as Jessie grumbled a few curse words destined to me. She put her weight on one side, plopped her arm on the ground, hand lost in her hair and pointed her manicured finger once again at me.

"Comfortable?" I asked.

Her eyes went from annoyed to strict, "Very, thanks for asking. But what happened out there?"

"What was supposed to happen."

"Really? You being a bitch to him is what was supposed to happen? The poor lad looked like he was about to cry. Or he's just that adorable all the time," she sighed.

I shrugged, feeling not one ounce of regret. For four years, anger and remorse had been piling up. I usually was a forgiving person, but him? I had no idea why, I could never get rid of how he made me feel. When someone made me feel like absolute shit as he did, all I wanted to do was stay away from them—or physically and mentally punch them.

"I hate him," I said. "He broke my heart. He made me feel like shit."

"Four years ago," she argued. "Time changes people, babe. You're going to have to face him one day or another."

"I'm choosing never," I said. The narrow hole in my chest was filled up to the point where I felt nauseous; I needed fresh air. "He's still Nico."

"And you're Zoey. So what? Talk to him. Having so much hatred for one person can't be good for you."

"Neither is talking to him. Last time I did, he broke my heart."

"Is your heart still broken?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"No," I answered. "Because of James."

"Exactly. You're happy, why not mend that broken piece and get it done with? What'll happen if you talk to him?"

"I'll get so angry that I'll punch him," I replied.

"Possible," chuckled Jessie, "but no harm can come from speaking to the guy. Trust me, you'll feel better."

"I'm good," I said.

I stood up, brushing dust off my rear end. Jessie did as well, taking more time. Without another glance towards her, I headed outside and turned the shop's sign from OPEN to CLOSED. Jessie gathered her coat and bag in silence, strings of tension hanging in the air. I picked up my things as well, wrapping the warm Canada imported coat around my body.

My mind wandered off to the way he was. He looked almost wistful. That was the only difference I'd noticed in him. Still carefully messy, his physical appearance hadn't changed, aside form the fact that he'd gotten taller. His hair was longer than I remembered it to be, it almost fell in his eyes. They were calmer, somehow wiser. The eighteen-year old wilderness in him was a flame that got put out, or was rather burning very feebly.

"Zoey?"

I turned the store keys in, watching as the dark place gave in for the night. I lingered upon the door handle, letting out a breath of relief. I had survived, I saw him and survived.

"Yeah?" I looked up at Jess.

We began walking to our flat, which was less than five minutes away from the store. Jessie was quieter than she usually was; therefore she was either planning something or seriously caught in deep thought.

"Go out with me tonight, please," she said. "Just you and I, a girls' night."

The velvetiness in her voice took me by surprise. But I couldn't resist, I deserved a drink or two after the meeting with Nico today. I needed to turn my mind off for an hour or so; it wouldn't do me any harm.

"Okay," I agreed. "I've got to be home before 1, though. James and I—"

"—Skype every Friday and Wednesday at one a.m. Honestly, we've lived together for four months. You're loud and giggly when you talk to him and it penetrates my ear drums, thank you very much."

And that was how, an hour later, I ended up in a crowded bar, struggling to sit on a high bench. Jessie kept looking around, as if she expected someone. She had dressed all out, wearing a bright red knee length dress and high heels. Her curls were pulled into a bun, a few untamable strands falling.

The bartender watched us, ready to open his mouth and ask us what we wanted. Without even looking at him, Jessie said: "Two martinis, please. Both shaken, one vodka, the other gin. Both garnished with olives."

For four months, she knew me well. (Aside from the fact that we went out every now and then, she knew my drink preference by heart.)

I smoothed down the high-waist black, leather skirt. A knit cropped white top complimented the rest of the outfit. I kept it simple, with black accessories, black heels and curling my hair just a tad. Going out with Jessie was always my favorite kind of night; we both looked our best, going with the signature simple, yet effective looks.

For a Friday night, the place wasn't as messed up as I expected it to be. On the dance floor were the usual let's molest each other and rub our bodies against each other and call it dancing couples. A group of friends partied similarly to animals, as if it was their first time in a bar. Hefty men downed shots in wildfire, cheering whenever their tenth one was reached. 

I snapped my fingers in front of Jess's eyes to get her attention. "You alright?"

"I'm wonderful," she smiled serenely. Eyes on mine, I felt as if we were in different worlds.  "You?"

"Are you on something?" I asked her.

She shook her head, "me? No. You? How's life?"

"Are you hiding something from me then?" at the sight of her still avoiding my eyes, I grabbed her face in my hand, her cheeks squeezed together in the process. "Jessie." 

"Snog her!" shouted a faraway male voice. I turned towards the source and retorted: "Shut the fuck up!"

"I'm fine, seriously," she pushed my hand away. She blinked, "how are things with James?"

"Great," I was still distracted by her attitude, but it didn't stop me from letting words flow out like a river. "I miss him a lot. Sometimes I want to magically transport him through Skype so that I can touch him."

Jessie grinned at me, "someone hasn't gotten laid in a while."

"Shut up," I tapped my fingers on the counter. "But yeah," I mumbled, under my breath.

And I had lost her again.

"There they are," mumbled Jess, waving to someone.

I touched her shoe with mine, "who?"

"Over here!" she shouted. "We're here!"

I hit her arm, "who are you talking to?" I turned to the direction she was looking towards.

And brushing through people, the ghosts of apologies on their lips, were two boys I wished I hadn't seen again in the same night. My stomach twisted and turned, I wanted to puke—on Jessie or Nico, I wasn't too certain yet.

"Nico!" exclaimed Jessie. She stood up and hugged Nico.

His gaze stayed on mine, as his arm was around Jessie for a second or two. Adrian's eyes burned through her, obviously wanting an embrace from her too. She grinned at him, enjoying his eagerness to hug her, "maybe later."

All I could focus on was that fact that she'd brought them here. I hopped off the bench, unaware of the effect of heels. Shoe sliding on the ground, I almost fell. What steadied me were Adrian's arms. He nodded to me, "careful there, babe."

Two pair of Forrest green eyes were on me from different angles.

"Oh, for God's sake," I grabbed Jessie's arm and pulled her away from both guys.

Our drinks arrived, Adrian took a sip from mine while Nico stayed still. He wore a black shirt and jeans, an expensive watch on his wrist. He kept throwing glances at Jessie and I, which made me want to poke his eyes out.

"What the fuck, Jessie?"

She smiled, "what? You need a drink. They were going out for drinks. Why not combine two and two?"

"Are you serious?" I cocked my head to the side, "you're kidding, right?"

"Why would I be?"

My blood felt as if it was boiling, "you invited him? You invited them? After I told you how much I didn't want to see him again?" my voice rose higher than the music, "you can't be serious."

"Technically," she took her arm away from my grasp, "I invited them before you told me anything. Therefore, I'm off the hook. You need to stop hating him and he needs to—well, I don't know. Just talk to him."

"Technically," I continued in the same tone, "I told you I never want to see him. And you still went along with this."

She rolled her eyes, "get over it. I'm doing this for you. It'll be good for you."

"How do you know?"

"Maybe I don't, Zoey," she put her hands on my shoulders. "I'm trying here. I thought it would help—"

"It didn't."

Her gaze darkened, "okay. Brilliant. I'm sorry for doing what I thought was right for you."

"You know how much I—"

"Hate me. Despise my guts," Nico said, standing in front of Jessie. "We all get it, Hunter. She cared about you, and that's exactly why she invited us. Don't be mad at her at least, be mad at me."

My shoulder deflated. Jessie rubbed her shoulders with her hands, absently looking up at Nico. She gave him a smile, "it's fine. Sorry about all of this."

"No," he protested. "It really isn't fine. I'm sorry for creating a problem."

"You should go, Forrest," I told him, voice cracking at the last word. "You really should."

"If you're so mad," his eyes flashed and the dim bar lights didn't do anything to stop him from having a presence, "then punch me. Get it out of your system."

"No," I retorted. "Not happening."

"For fuck's sake—", Nico threw his hands in the air in frustration, closed his eyes and rubbed his temple before looking at me again. "This was all a mistake. I'm sorry, Jessie. Thanks for trying."

He faced me, "I'm sorry that I thought you'd grown past this. I'm sorry for thinking that I could see you again and you wouldn't fuckin' hate me."

"Come with me," Adrian grabbed Nico's shirt and guided him away from Jessie and I.

Beneath her thick lashes, she looked at me with disappointment and chagrin. I hit my palm on my forehead, appalled at how much of an idiot I had been to her. How Nico made me feel, it shouldn't have influenced my friendship with Jessie. She was the only home I had in London, I couldn't afford to hurt her.

"I'm sorry," I said, clutching the ends of my hair. Tugging onto them sometimes helped me relieve my stress.  "I took it too far. I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. You wanted to do something good and I ruined it. I'm sorry. I suck."

"Sorry for forcing him on you. I shouldn't have.," a hint of a smile was on her face. "On the other hand, you really do suck. You really, really, really do. But I have no choice but to love you, do I?"  

-

And an hour later, I was sitting at the bar with Jessie, talking about everything and nothing. After five martinis, she got  tipsy. Seeing her on the verge of being drunk was priceless—she kept talking about the same subject over and over, forgot what she was talking about, remembered and the cycle restarted.

Meanwhile, I finished my third drink and gulped down a glass of water. I tried to avoid drinking as much as possible, but when I did, I stayed close to sober. The trick was to drink water after every drink, it dimmed the effect of alcohol on your system.

"Hmmm," hummed Jessie, circling her glass with the tips of her fingers. "You know, you're not a bad person. You're very cool. Cooler than the sun," she giggled. "Wait, that's not right! Are you hot or cold?"

I smiled and tried not to laugh, "I'm both."

"But that's confusing," she frowned and began singing an ancient Katy Perry song. "If you're hot and you're cold, you're yes and you're no. You're in then you're out. You're up and you're down."

Beside us, a roaring drunk man fell from the stool he attempted to jump on and sit. He laughed uncontrollably, the way he did triggering a memory. He held onto the counter tightly as he (barely) sat down on a stool. Turning to us, he grinned like a mad man and ushered for the bartender, clapping his hands sloppily.

Holy shit—Nico was drunk.

"Excuse me! I'd like," he slurred, "vodka. Lots and lotsa it. I luv' vodka. It's me best mate," he all but screamed in the bartender's ears.

"Forrest?" I looked at him, "Are you alright?"

His head whip-lashed to face me, and I could swear he turned so fast, he could've snapped all the muscles in his neck, "I'm beautiful."

"Shit," I whispered. I hoped Adrian would show up before he hurt himself.

Jessie observed the whole scene with a smile that could've lit up an entire town, "is he drunk?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Want me to look for Adrian so he can take him home?"

I slid my half full glass of water to her, "no. You're tipsy. Drink this first."

I had never seen Nico in this state before. He once told me that he never liked to get drunk, because he did when his mother died and it affected him too much. As Zoey, I could've turned away and left him there. As a human, I couldn't do that.

"Hey! I'm Nick," Nico was out of the blue on the bench next to me. He extended his hand for me to shake. "You're very purty. You look like a girl I know."

What the hell was I supposed to do now?

"Wanna hear a secret?" he gulped down a shot of vodka, grimaced and giggled. (It was now a known fact that seeing boys giggle was a life achievement.)

Trying to ignore the smell of strong alcohol in his mouth, I said: "Sure?"

"There's this girl, right?" he moved his hands when he talked. "She's very very purty, just like you. I loved her a lot but then I was a total—hiccup—dick to her and I think I broke her heart. And now she hates me," his eyes gathered tears. "She hates me. And I saw her today, not yesterday, today! But she didn't want me. She hates me."

Is he serious?

"You know angels?" he blabbered, "she's like that beautiful." At my dazed look, he added: "I know! But you know what the real, real, real secret is?"

He leaned in, hot breath flushing on my ear, "I still luuuuurve—"

And that was the exact moment he puked on me.

-

1:50 A.M.

Taking care of a tipsy Jessie alone was one thing. Taking care of a completely hammered Nico Forrest was a totally different story. (Without Adrian, who, according to an overly cleavage displaying blonde, had gone home with a girl named Emma.)

Once he puked his guts out on my shirt, he passed out. I was therefore stuck with a sleepy Jessie, an unconscious Nico, a ruined top and a nonexistent Adrian. The bartender was gratefully a genuinely nice person, he gave me a rag to wipe the vomit off my top and carried Nico to the cab I'd asked for.

Half an hour later, Jessie and I struggled to drag Nico (who was still undeniably heavy, despite what he looked like) to the elevator of my building. It took fifteen minutes just to get him inside of the flat, it was a long walk from the elevator to Jessie & I's place.

It took Jessie five minutes to convince me to take him to our place. She argued that if we left him there, he could've gotten himself in trouble. She suggested that he would go to sleep on the couch and she'd make him leave first thing in the morning.

"The shit I get dragged into," I mumbled under my breath.

We heaved him on the couch, after clearing it. I wet a tissue and wiped the edges of his mouth, which were tainted with the vomit he had gracefully laid on me. I covered him up with a blanket and let out a breath of pent up frustration. I put a trashcan beside him, in case he woke up and puked—again.

"Hm," let out Nico, snuggled into the blanket.

On the first day I'd seen him again, he had gone in my store, gotten drunk, therefore confessed sincere thoughts and was now sleeping on my couch. This didn't erase the leftover annoyance he brought to me—but it was too much to deal with in one day. The whole ordeal reminded me of how whenever he entered my life, he always messed up something.

This felt like déjà-vu; putting him to sleep like this. I remembered how he suffered from insomnia and that when he did sleep—it was rare but his slumber was deep and rare.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table, a sign of a text. I opened it, unaware of the time and of how late it was. It was from James, as were the other five texts.

1: 15 a.m.

Babe<3: WHERE ARE YOUUUUU??!!!

1:30 a.m.

Babe: did u die??? i miss your face L

1:35 a.m.

Babe: skype me asap pls  

Babe: zoeyzoeyzoey

1:50 a.m.

Babe: do you not realize how much it kills me when I miss you like this

I shook my head, annoyed at how I had let him down. I answered back, asking for twenty more minutes to take a quick shower and how I'd video-chat with him as fast as I could.

"G'night," cried out Jessie. She had already changed into her pajamas—an overflowing shirt that reached her knees and socks. A head band held her hair together, she yawned and waved to me.

It took me less than fifteen minutes to wash all the mess of tonight off my body. Hot water did wonders, calming me down and giving me space to think. I let my wet hair fall, I never really needed to dress up for James. He always loved to see me naked faced.

Dressed in one of James' shirts and basket ball shorts, I hopped in bed, careful not to wake Jessie up. Since she slept like a baby, waking her up wasn't a problem when I talked to James. I opened my laptop and called James, the night light by my side preventing me from being swallowed by the darkness. I plugged in my earphones and put them on.

"Hey," I smiled.

James did the same. And just by doing that, he made me forget about my day. There was no Nico, no Jessie, no messed-up night—it was all about him. As long as he was there, I knew that everything would end up being okay. He was my addiction, I could never be ashamed of admitting it.

"How was your night?" he leaned back into his office chair.

His hair was freshly trimmed. He wore a short sleeved blue shirt. He looked like he was about to go out, and he probably was. We tried to make the phone calls suitable for both of us.

"Better now," I said.

He frowned, "what happened, babe?"

I filled him in on everything that happened that night. Nico visiting, Jessie inviting him to the bar, him getting drunk and him sleeping on the couch. During the entire time, James nodded and reacted normally to the weirder parts.

"So he's sleeping on the couch?" said James, lips pursed.

I could never hide anything from him. We were always a hundred percent honest with each other. "Yeah."

"He'll be out first thing in the morning, right?"

"Of course. If not, I'll probably kick him out. In one day, he managed to get himself in a mess and drag me in it. I don't get—"

"Relax," soothed James. "I don't like it, him staying over, but I trust both of you. Don't let him bother you, okay?"

"He just gets on my nerves," I ran my fingers down the comforter. An elephant's weight was pushed off my chest. Talking to James always got me.

"I know," he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much he bothered you."

"Don't be," I gave him a half-hearted smile. "It's not your fault."

"Want me to tell him to stay away?" he said.

"I will. I can handle it," I grinned. "I'm a strong, independent —"

He cut me off, "—beautiful woman who could defend herself against the world. I know," his voice felt like warm tea on a rainy day. "I miss you."

I tucked in my damp hair behind my ears, feeling it wet the shirt. It still held a trace of his smell, which helped me fall asleep on the worst days. He gave me four of his shirts before I moved away and told me to wear them whenever I missed him.

"I miss you more," I breathed. "I'll come visit on Christmas break."

"Good," he nodded. "Maybe I'll visit you earlier."

"James," my tone softened, "don't waste your money. The store sales have been going well. I don't want you to spend anything from your savings. You know how expensive the plane tickets are."

"I know, and I don't care."

We talked for an hour, before I began yawning. The fatigue the day had stored for me was building up. I sank in my bad, put the laptop by my side and placed my head on the pillow.

"Sleepy?" he said.

"A little," I hummed. "But it's okay."

"No, it's almost 3 for you. Go to sleep," he assured, "I'll continue my essay."

My eyes struggled to stay open, "you sure?"

"A hundred percent," he said. "Good night, Zoey."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I wish you were here," I whispered.

"So do I."

He blew me a kiss, "I'll talk to you when I can. Sleep well, love."

And his face disappeared from the screen. I managed to shut the screen and close the night light. My mind was already shutting down, and his face was the last thing I could think of. I put the laptop on the night table, took a pillow and hugged it.

Sleeping alone was sometimes the toughest part of the day.

-

TWO UPDATES IN TWO WEEKS? WHAAAAAT? WHERE IS THE INCONSTANT UPDATING YAS? right here, folks.

i lurve this chapter a whole lot and i hope you liked it! (unedited)

QOTD: what do you think will happen in the next chapter? what did you think of this one?

random: it has dawned on me that i genuinely love you all a lot. i feel like whenever i need someone i write for you guys bc i know that if you like the writing, you like a piece of me and that means alot. you might not understand, but i do. i love you all a lot and i try my best to write the best i can.

also: this one's for zayn, who left one direction/or was asked to leave by modest!. i thought that when they stopped making music, it would be all of them together. for me, it's all or nothing. i hope zayn gets better and takes care of himself. i'll always stand by their side, no matter what.

as always:

love, yas