Life of a Direction-ette

"Stop saying that!" He yells. My breath hitches in my throat and I stop dead in my tracks.

"W-what?" I spit out. He's never yelled at me like that before.

"Okay, I know. I know you like that word. I know because you can't seem to stop saying it. At all. You just keep repeating it over and over again. I need you to stop saying that." He tells me once he turns around to face me.

I know I'm cold and that I can't get any colder according to science and this jacket. I know what facts say about me getting colder. I know, but I feel like someone just stuck their hangs inside me and stopped all of my blood flow to ever part of my body. You know when you were younger and you placed a tight rubber band around you finger to see what happens. You know how your finger gets ice cold and someone tells you to stop before your finger turns blue or you'll have to get it cut off. That's how I feel.

"Wha- why? Why?" I croak out. I'm not gonna cry. I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. I swear.

"Love. It's a strong word. Like a really strong word and you can't throw it around like a frisbee." He tells me, "It's only means something when you tell it to someone who care about-"

"You told me you loved me first, Zayn! You know that."

"I know what I said! I know exactly what I told you. I damn well know exactly how many times I've told you that. Eight, Charlie. I've told you eight times."

"Then do you not care? About me. Is that what you're trying to say?" I ask.

"That wasn't-"

"Because," I inturrupt, "I-if that's what you mean, I don't want you to feel obligated to give me a stupid ass speach about how much you don't love me."

And then the fucking tears come, slowly then all at once. They're hot tears, so I can deal with them for now. They can fall. I don't mind that.

"I care about you. Hell, I love you, but I'm just not sure if I'm in love with you." He says with his hands clapsed together. He doesn't even seem to care. At all. Not even a little bit. Did he even care to begin with?

"Fine." I say. What else is there to say? You can't make someone love you by using some heartfelt words. You can't cry your way into submission. You just can't force that of someone. You can't, so I won't either. I reach into my breast pocket and take out the small black velvet box that's been rather heavy in it's spot. I hold it out to him and say,

"Here."

He doesn't move from his spot in front of me, so I shake it at him.

"Take it! I don't want this goddamn thing anymore. Take it!" I yell. My high pitch voice cracks as I yell, but I don't want this. Not anymore. But, he still doesn't move and it's bothering me. I can't concentrate. Since he didn't take, I place it on a near by bench and begin walking away. I get half way down the sidewalk and then stop again. I turn back around quickly to say one thing that I meant to say this morning.

"Happy one year anniversary, Zayn. I hope you spend it with someone who you're sure you're in love with."

~

Notes