THE ART OF CLOSURE :: ZAYN

𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐢. 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

❝𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘, 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐆𝐎.
𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍.❞

"Oh god, no!" Celina's voice echoed loudly through the kitchen as she quickly retreated from Zayn. He stood there, a look of confusion sat on his face, having just offered her a wooden spoonful of tomato sauce that proved to be an assault on her tastebuds.

"You're so dramatic. It's not that bad," Zayn countered, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Arching an eyebrow at him with a playful smirk, Celina replied, "I've known you for over ten years, and I've never tasted a bad dish from you, but that—" She paused for dramatic effect, pointing theatrically at the wooden spoon, "—is bad."

Zayn playfully rolled his eyes while grabbing the sugar container from the cabinet with the determination to somewhat salvage the dish, "I haven't cooked in a while." He placed his hand over his heart, "Forgive me for trying to be a good..."

He trailed off, almost letting the word boyfriend slip out of his mouth like it had never left. There was a sense of stillness that hung in the air, a reminder of the unspoken tension between the two of them that they hadn't quite acted on.

After their first public outing since rebuilding their relationship, things had been moving pretty slow. Celina was diving back into promoting her album, while Zayn was working on his own upcoming promotional tour for his album he still hadn't announced yet. Despite their busy schedules, they found peace in spending time together in Celina's newly renovated home in London, away from the rabid American paparazzi waiting outside her apartment each morning.

"Sorry," Zayn spoke, pulling Celina's attention away from her rapid thoughts. She could see him shaking his head in disappointment out of the corner of her eye, "I know we haven't discussed what this is,"

He was right. Despite how close they have gotten in the last few months, the nature of their relationship remained up in the air—neither romantic nor purely platonic. They hadn't crossed any physical boundaries, yet their bond felt like it had never changed from comforting, familiar even.

"It's fine," Celina reassured him, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "We haven't exactly had the 'what are we' conversation since we left New York two months ago."

A nervous snicker escaped Zayn's lips. "No, we haven't," he admitted, his tone tinged with apology. "Sorry if I made things awkward."

Celina secretly frowned because she didn't know what to say. She had no clue on what she and Zayn were because she felt they didn't need a label. It scared her to put a label on what they were because she somehow had convinced herself that would doom what they have. They were just... them. She was happy with just being them for once without the pressure of the outside world trying to tell her what is or isn't right for her.

To avoid making any eye contact, Celina retrieved a knife from the drawer in front of her, her hands moving with purpose as she began chopping onions to add to the dish. "We don't have to label this. I want to just be us without any pressure of feeling like we should be more than that."

Zayn watched her with admiration, the lines of confusion on his face softening into something warmer as he took in the sight of her. "I agree," he remarked, his voice filled with sincerity. He didn't mind that proposition if that's what she felt most safe with.