I wake up to a splitting headache, my head pounding. I slip on some sweatpants and a distressed white t-shirt from his dresser, padding into the bathroom. I stop suddenly, two voices filling my ears. I recognize the thick Bradford accent but the other voice is unfamiliar. Laughter roars and my heart starts beating out of my chest as I walk into the kitchen.

Four eyes meet mine, two amber and two a deep brown.

"Wow Zayn, I didn't know you were friends with Abel Tesfaye," he gapes at me, unable to speak as the guy frowns at me disapprovingly.

"I thought you had changed Zayn. I see you're still taking care of bums off the street."

"Excuse me? I-"

"Does your head heart babe? I got you some medicine."

I stare daggers at the pretty chocolate skinned man, jealous that he made Zayn laugh, that he's drinking coffee with him on a Sunday morning.

"He's drunk," he scoffs.

Zayn blatantly ignores him, filling a glass of water for me. I swallow the pills and he lets his fingers get tangled in my hair.

"I guess you haven't settled down, had to have a quick fuck last night."

My fist is about to connect with the bloke's jaw when Zayn says "He's my boyfriend."

I feel my heartbeat in my throat and my knees nearly buckle beneath me.

"He's like sixteen."

"I'm an adult, thank you very much," I plaster on a fake smile, which he gladly returns.

"Listen, it's nice that you stopped by to see me but things are a lot different now. I'm not the same person I was when...you know."

"And I am? I'm getting my doctorate in psychology at Oxford. I'm mature now, I realize I made a mistake."

He's pleading but I'm lost. Zayn's face is pale and he shakes his head.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Take you back."

Instinctively, my arm wraps around Zayn's waist, pulling him closer. His body relaxes at my touch and my heart breathes a sigh of relief.

"You can't just show up out of the blue and expect me to take you back. We haven't talked in ages. I'm happy with how my life is going and you have to waltz in and confuse everything."

"Just like that, huh? You're going to throw away what we had?"

Mason.

"You cheated on him," I growl. My fist clenches as I lunge forward. His eyes widen in shock but Zayn tugs me back. "You fucking left him. He needed you."

"He didn't need me. He needed to find himself. You can't love someone if you don't love yourself."

"God that's cheap," I spit back coldly. "I've never turned my back on him. Ever. Love doesn't work like that, it doesn't only exist when things are going well."

"Right, you just get shit-faced wasted and expect him to take care of you? That's your definition of a healthy relationship?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, trying to steal him from me? Acting like you know about what we have together?"

I'm completely sober now, anger coursing through my veins.

"I hope the sex is good Zayn. This kid is-"

"He isn't a kid," he defends sternly. "Harry has more heart than you ever will and he's the most intelligent person I know. You can take your Oxford education and ram it up your arse."

I nearly choke, trying to suppress my laughter.

"Oh that's low, even for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It isn't my fault you were addicted to drugs. I tried to help you. I fucking loved you Zayn Malik. Part of me always will."

"That's the problem," his voice cracks. "You only ever loved me partially."

Silence hangs heavily in the air before he gets up from his chair. "Thanks for the coffee."

He opens his mouth to say something else but his words falter, so he pivots quickly on his heel and rushes through the front door.

"You let in your ex while I was asleep?"

"Harry, hear me out. He was in town and I thought we could catch up and clear the air."

"Right," I snort.

"M'sorry he offended you like that. You know I-"

"You said I was your boyfriend," I blurt.

His face softens and he cups his hands around my cheeks, his golden eyes aglow. "Do you want to be...officially?"

"Yes," I reply breathlessly.

And he kisses me with a renewed passion, his lips chasing mine, his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth.

"I thought your joke about The Weeknd was funny," he chuckles.

"He wasn't what I was expecting."

"He's irrelevant now. You're my everything."

I smile at the sound of that, my cheeks warming.

"You know I am sorry about last night, thanks for putting up with me."

He presses his nose to mine and I giggle.

"I wouldn't want anything else."

"You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk. But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk."

"Baudelaire," he sighs. "You and your love of poetry.

"Give me a Zayn original," I beam.

"don't

stand

at my

grave

and

say

you

love

me

that's

all i

would

have

needed

to stay"

My heart aches as my arms wrap around his neck. "I do love you and not just partially Zayn. With every fiber of my being, with my entire heart, with everything I have. Whatever you want me to do, I will. I'll soften every edge, I'll rearrange the stars, I'll defend your every breath."

A tear slips from his face and my heart shatters.

"Zayn, was it something I said?"

He nods and my thumb swipes over his cheekbone, collecting the tear.

"I will love you with every heart beat I have Zayn."

"My heart is bursting with happiness and it doesn't know how to contain itself. I told it to stay inside my chest so my eyes poured out what my heart couldn't. Without you I'm a poet without words, a whisper lost in the void, a secret nobody keeps. I'm...partial."

"Me too," my heart thuds. "You complete me. I've never felt something like this before, so deeply I don't know what my life would be like without you in it. All I know is I never want to turn back."

his

heart

was

bleeding

out,

left

on

the shelf,

it speeds

up,

beating

steadily,

as my

lips

press

to his

lips

and

our

two

hearts

connect;

i'll never

let him

be

incomplete,

never

leave

him

in love

partially

His lips tug upward, his kiss a cursive line, his touch a beautiful phrase.

"Complete, complete, complete," I murmur against his lips.

"I am partially turned on."

"Me too Zayn. Me too."