PRIDE » Zarry ✅

3: Lips Are Sealed

I was embarrassed.

So embarrassed.

Extremely embarrassed, to the point where when I arrived at work the next day, I didn't want to see Zayn or even hear his name.

It was already clear from previous conversations that he knew very well that I was in the closet. But I'm not sure if he'd guessed I was that far inside of it. Where even my parents didn't know. I didn't want to think about what he must've thought about me. He was probably thinking about how pathetic I was. Or even worse, he might have been calling me a coward. Whatever it was, I wanted to be hidden from him. And I wanted to be shielded from his judgements.

The only problem with the avenue I had chosen to take is that it required a two way street to really work. Even if I didn't want to see him, it didn't mean he didn't want to see me. So as much as I made it a point to stay hidden in my office all day, Zayn had other plans.

During lunch time, I heard a knock on my office door. The blinds were open to the glass door so I could easily see that it was him. But something was different. He'd apparently dyed the tips of his hair bright pink last night.

"I'm busy!" I said.

But the door opened anyway.

"I thought I said I was busy."

"No you're not and you know it."

I looked down at my desk. I was silently wishing he'd take the hint and just go. But I also knew I was being rude to him unnecessarily. And it wasn't fair.

"What do you want, Mr. Malik?"

"Mr. Malik? Since when? You agreed to call me Zayn and I call you Harry."

When I looked up, he seemed confused and a little hurt.

"Well, maybe that was a mistake. I'm starting to think we were a little too comfortable."

He scoffed a laugh. "Wow. It's like you hate yourself as much as you think your father would hate you."

That took my attention quick.

"What?"

"You clearly hate yourself."

"I don't hate myself." I said, offended.

"Then what would you call it? Keeping your secret from people who might hate you or harm you is one thing, but trying to hide it from someone who already knows and accepts it makes no sense. So there can only be one reason. You hate yourself and what you are."

I quickly rose from my seat with my hands on the desk.

"How dare you?" I spoke in a low tone but I was clearly irritated.

"How dare I what? Speak the truth? I understand why you didn't want me to come by anymore when your father showed up. I don't hold that against you. But don't stand there and tell me we're too comfortable when I know for a fact that deep down you know that we haven't gotten comfortable enough. Then again, I guess if you'd rather lie to me so that I don't keep misreading your signals, just get it over with. So I can stop embarrassing myself here in front of you."

When he said that, I just felt so guilty. He was right. In my mind, I wanted so much more with him than I'd gotten to have so far. I couldn't lie to him and make him go away. I would hate myself forever.

"Listen." He finally said after no response from me.

"I don't have to come to you if you don't want me to or if you're afraid Mr. Styles might show up unexpectedly again. But I have no such fears at my home. So if you want to drop by there and pick up your house warming gift around seven, my address is in my personal file."