Part 4

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4 YEARS AGO

Zayn’s P.O.V.

Niall and I became close friends, which was strange. I never thought I would be so close to a police officer, someone of authority. Hell, I was supposed to still be in school. But Niall didn’t care. When he was off the job, he just acted like my friend. He let me live on his couch, and he encouraged me to find a real job. But, that didn’t really happen.

This was about the time I started seeing Liam. He would appear out of thin air, maybe just smiling at me or giving me advice. And I thought I was going completely crazy. Liam was dead, yet here I was, seeing him next to me.

“Niall, I’m seeing things,” I told him one night when he got home, taking off his badge and putting it on the table.

He chuckled, “What are you talking about now, Zayn?”

“I keep seeing…I’m seeing my best friend,” I said, sitting next to Niall at his table as he set the take out dinner in front of us.

“Okay, and?” Niall asked.

“My best friend killed himself last year,” I bit my lip, trying to keep my emotions in check. I didn’t want to go and cry in front of Niall like a little baby.

“Oh,” Niall said, clearly caught off guard, his body freezing and his eyes looking down to meet mine, “I’m…I’m really sorry to hear that Zayn,”

“There’s something wrong with me,” I said, “He’s everywhere and I don’t know why. It just happens, and he’s standing there,”

Niall’s face distorted with worry, “Maybe I can get you in to see a doctor. Aren’t you already taking medication though?”

“Well, kind of,” I admitted.

“What does that mean, Zayn?” Niall asked, grabbing a french fry.

“I only get my medicine when I have enough money, and that is becoming pretty rare,” I said, looking at the sandwich in front of me.

Niall was in complete protective mode, and he yelled about how dangerous it was to take medicine like that at such random intervals. And the very next day I found myself sitting in a small office, staring at a man in a suit, who wrote down everything I did and said.

“So, you see your best friend, Zayn?”He asked. Right on cue, Liam appeared to the man’s side and he smiled at me, making me smile back. I knew he wasn’t real, but I couldn’t help it. This was all too much for me to handle.

“Careful, Zayn,” Liam warned, “He’s going to think you are crazy,”

“No, he won’t,” I shook my head.

The doctor stared at me and then asked me who I was talking to. I didn’t answer, because I’m pretty sure that had just become obvious. When he finally wrote a full evaluation up about me, it was clear that he wanted me put in a mental help facility. But I couldn’t afford that. So I left that office, and never went back.

Niall asked me how the appointment went. I didn’t answer.

Since Niall was now forcing me to pay for my meds regularly, I ran out of money for the other necessities of my life. For example, clothes, food—I refused to let Niall buy all of that for me—and toiletries.

That’s when I started stealing.

Niall wasn’t supposed to find out. But he did.

“Damn it, Zayn,” He cursed, “I’m a fucking police officer. You can’t steal things and then hide under my roof,”

“I’m sorry,” I muttered, tears filling my eyes.

“That’s not good enough,” Niall lectured, “You need to go and return the things you stole. If you get put in jail, I’ll bail you out. But you can’t do this anymore! Do you understand me, Zayn?”

“I’m sorry,” I cried.

So stealing was put behind us.

But, there were always other problems. The first and last being Josh, Niall’s boyfriend.

“Who the hell is this?” Josh asked, storming into Niall’s flat and pinning me up against the wall. Niall ran over and tried to get him off of me.

“Joshie,” Niall said, “Please, stop. He’s just a kid I found on the streets. He needs help, and I couldn’t leave him out there all alone.”

“But he is living with you now?”Josh asked, “He’s a fucking beautiful young guy living with you in your flat, sleeping over every night, and I’m not allowed to be worried, or at least, a little bit upset? How long have you known the kid, Niall? A week or so, and he’s living with you. But me, I’ve been dating you for a whole year, and you haven’t asked me once to move in with you,”

Niall was speechless. And since I finally understood that I was only causing Niall trouble, I ran out of the flat, and never went back.

PRESENT DAY

Harry’s P.O.V.

“Do you still see Liam?” I asked, not thinking he was crazy, just wanting to know the truth, because let’s face it, if I had been through his life, I would probably see things too.

“Yes,” Zayn said, “But not very often. Only when things get really bad,”

“And what about Niall? Did you ever see him again?” I asked, scooting yet closer to Zayn’s warm body. His hands were a little bit shaky, leading me to believe that telling his story to me wasn’t as easy as he made it seem.

“A lot more than you’d think,” Zayn chuckled, “I’m a criminal, remember. And Niall’s an officer,”

“Oh, right,” I sighed. All of these thoughts were swirling around in my head. I could still hear the people outside this old abandoned building, the police officers yelling things, all of them trying to wait out this 'criminal', who in my mind wasn’t even a criminal at all.“So, they’ll really kill you if they catch you?”

“Yes,” Zayn sighed, “I think they will. They believe I murdered someone,”

“What?” I gasped, “What happened?”

Zayn chuckled, “I take it that you want to hear the rest of the story?” I nodded vigorously, “Okay, let’s see…where was I?”

3 YEARS AGO

Zayn’s P.O.V.

I went back to stealing as soon as I was out of Niall’s flat. In all honesty, I felt bad for what I was doing, but it was the only way to go about things anymore. Instead of eating dinner with Niall and chatting happily, I was on the run from him.

Liam started showing up everywhere, and as terrible as it sounds, he was good company to keep. He was still my best friend, even if he wasn't real.

I felt like I was constantly walking a tight rope. And yeah, I fell, a lot. All of my efforts seemed to be for nothing, and I found myself digging into a deeper and deeper depression.

Louis was the last person I met that actually made me feel like I had worth. He was a street performer that I would pass every day. He was silly, often singing and juggling at the same time, or riding a unicycle all over the sidewalk, collecting money in a beanie hat. When he noticed that I past him everyday—on the way to steal from one of the local gas stations—he wrote a silly song about me and sang it when I passed him. It started out so simple, but it morphed over the year. I made another friend.

Nothing good can last.

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