Okay so you have a warning for this, this one shot is loosely based around the ~meaning~ behind the song, Moments. So if that kind of thing upsets or offends you, then please don’t read this.

He gulped down the glass of whiskey by his bed, the alcohol burnt the back of his throat like a raging fire but he didn’t care, anything to take the focus off the pain he felt inside. He looked at the pile of clothes that didn’t belong to him, feeling the tears prick at the corners of his eyes just by looking at them. He picked up the blazer that was laid at the very top - his favourite, the black one that he’d worn on tour for their very last song. He brought the material to his face and inhaled. The only smell coming from it was soap and freshness, all traces of Harry were gone.

Tears streamed down over his perfect cheek bones, some collecting at the corner of his lips which he licked away. There was a weight in his chest that was almost unbearable, he was too weak, he couldn’t live another day. He slid his arms into the jacket that the rest of the boys were trying to convince him to get rid of, wrapping the soft material around his body, he lay on his bed, tears falling faster as he stared at an all too familiar picture.

Harry tried hard not to laugh at his boyfriend, they’d started a debate about what movie they should watch that night. Zayn wanting to watch Halloween; whereas Harry had wanted to curl up in bed and watch Titanic - in the midst of the debate though Zayn had managed to insult the younger lad by saying he didn’t want to watch another girls film and since then Harry had been sitting in silence, refusing to talk to him. Right now though it was getting increasingly difficult, Zayn sitting on the opposite side of the couch, running his foot up and down Harry’s leg and each time the curly haired boy would look in Zayn’s direction - he would pull a silly face at him.

“Would you quit it,” Harry finally broke his silence, shoving Zayn’s foot off him.

“Aha, he speaks, victory!” he pumped his fist in the air as if he’d just been informed he’d won the lottery but to his dismay, Harry fell silent once again.

“Oh Harry, come on, I was joking. I’m sorry.” Zayn exasperated, Harry just focused his eyes on the tv in front of him and Zayn threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine, you win, I’m a dick.” he climbed from the sofa, marching out into the kitchen, leaving Harry on his own.

Zayn grabbed some eggs and flour, setting them on the kitchen counter, looking for a bowl big enough to make some noise with. Harry sat wondering what the older boy was up to now, he shouldn’t fall for his tricks, he told himself but anytime Zayn just left him in the manner he did, Harry got too curious for his own good and when he heard the sound of something heavy and tin crashing to the floor he couldn’t help it, he swiftly made his way to the kitchen to check his boyfriend was okay.

As soon as he pushed open the door, he was greeted with a face full of flour, the substance in his hair, in his mouth, on his face and clothes. An egg hit him next, then another, another handful of flour came flying his way but he attempted to protect himself. “Oh, you…bitch.” he exclaimed, coughing as he choked on the powder. Zayn smirked at Harry, at least he wasn’t sitting sulking anymore.

He wasn’t quick enough to react though when Harry lunged for him, knocking the both of them to the ground, he shook his thick curls over his face, watching as the flour descended down onto the older lads face. The pair of them were laughing though, the sound that still made both of their hearts flutter, once Harry saw his boyfriend covered, he stopped to look around the room and the mess that Zayn had created.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” Zayn agreed, looking up into vibrant green eyes.

“You’re also cute.”

“I know this, too.” Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled, laying down on the floor on his side next to the other boy, he dug into his front pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it in front of them both.

“Smiiiiiile.”

Zayn stared at the picture by his bed, his lips had pressed to Harry’s cheek just as the camera flashed, his head filling with fond memories he had shared with him. “Why?” he whispered to himself, picking up picture frame from his bedside table, he threw it against the wall and buried his face in his hands, sobbing to the point he had started to make too much noise - a soft rattle against his bedroom door, Louis’ friendly voice sounded through the wood.

“Zayn, mate, you okay?”

“Go away.” he screamed, voice dry, rough, raw with emotion.

He heard Louis knock again and Zayn climbed from his bed. He grabbed his closest bag, threw in the couple of items that he needed and opening the door - pushing his way past Louis, who held on to the bottom of the blazer. Zayn swung around and knocked his hand from it.

“Don’t touch this.” he spat, probably a little too harshly.

“Zayn this isn’t healthy.”

“You don’t know how I feel.”

“Yes, I do! Harry was my best friend..”

“Yeah and he was my everything, my soul mate, he was the person that knew me in and out. I didn’t have to say anything and he knew how I felt. Do you know what it’s like to have everything you were living for wiped out in an instant? Do you know what it feels like for your lungs to pretty much shut down so that every breath that you take kills you? Do you know what it’s like to feel sick as soon as someone mentions his name or if you see a picture? Do you know what it feels like to have a hole in your heart so big that you know that it will never heal?”

The tears streamed down Zayn’s face again as he screamed each word, his eyes puffy and blood shot. He tried to inhale sharply to get some air into his lungs. He looked up at Louis, his own heart breaking from knowing his best friend wasn’t here anymore, his other best friend falling apart piece by piece right in front of his eyes.

“No, so don’t tell me you know how I feel.”

Turning on his heel, Zayn left his home and slammed the door behind him, leaving Louis alone to worry about his friend, he knew he was on the edge.

Zayn pulled the sheet back from Harry’s body to expose his chest, his trembling hand ran over his smooth skin, his eyes focused on his face waiting for Harry to complain that he was cold but all Zayn wanted was his lovers attention. He needed to speak but the words just didn’t want to come out without knowing he had the attention of him.

Harry didn’t speak though, he grabbed Zayn’s hand, squeezed it and brought it up to his lips, kissing over his knuckles. No words came from him and his eyes didn’t open.

“I love you,” Zayn whispered, the wodrs falling from his lips, it was more than enough to grab Harry’s attention.

His body tensed and his eyes snapped open, he looked at the older lad and swallowed thickly. “Wh-hat?”

The Bradford lad laughed nervously, reaching up to rub over the back of his neck with his free hand. “Got your attention finally,” he joked, not sure if his sudden confession had been the right thing to come out with.

Harry released the hand he had been holding and scowled, “That’s really not funny to joke about.”

“No, no, Harry. No. Please, I meant it. I just..I didn’t know if that was a good reaction or not, I thought I freaked you out so I tried to turn it into a joke. I mean it, I love you.”

It took a moment for Harry’s face to soften, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Good, because I love you, too.”

The tears had stopped by the time Zayn reached his destination, his surroundings completely silent, so much so he could hear every twig snapping beneath his feet when he stood on one. It was pitch black but Zayn knew his way around like the back of his hand, he’d walked here alone almost every night for the last two months.

Finally he stopped in front of the correct tomb stone and ran his fingers over the smooth granite, over each letter in Harry’s name and he choked knowing that it was his favourite picture of him that was embedded into it. He felt the tears coming again but he shook his head, kneeling down on the grass.

“I can’t do this anymore, Harry.” he started, taking a few deep breaths, he dug into his bag for the whiskey he’d opened earlier in the night. “I’ve tried, I can’t. Nothing is the same without you, everything reminds me of you. My life is meaningless, I walk around in constant pain, I’m constantly thinking about every moment we spent together, sometimes I think I can hear you, that I can feel you on my skin, just to remember that all it is, is memories of you and everything hurts ten times worse. Why did you have to leave me? Why? It’s not fair.”

He spoke to the head stone as if it was Harry, he knew Harry could hear him, he knew it. He could feel his presence each and every time he came here, which was one of the reasons he spent a lot of time sat in this exact spot. Unscrewing the cap from the bottle, he pressed it to his lips and chugged it, he ignored the fiery burn and the overwhelming feeling to throw up.

Placing the bottle at the side of him, he ran his fingers over the date that Harry died and he could remember it just like it was yesterday.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Harry climbed over into Zayn’s lap in the back of the cab. Zayn took hold of his hips and looked up at him shaking his head - for once, Harry was the drunker of the two. “Mmm babe, maybe you should take your seat again.” Zayn chuckled as Harry sucked at his neck, slapping his ass as a warning that he really should be sitting down.

“But, don’t you like me kissing you?” he pouted and Zayn rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Of course I do.”

He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Harry kissing, sucking, licking at his neck - until he heard tires screeching, the rubber on the wheels of the cab burning into the ground in an attempt to stop before it was too late but it was too late. Their cab smashed into the back of another, they all jolted forward and Zayn felt an intense pain in his ribs and his neck, the pain getting worse until he blacked out.

When he reopened his eyes, he blinked hard, the bright white light too intense for him. He looked up at three familiar faces, tear stained cheeks, blood shot eyes, Liam reached down for his hand and squeezed it. He was about to ask where the hell he was and why they were all crying until the memory of the crash came flooding back and he was filled with dread.

“Wh—where’s Harry? Liam, where’s Harry? Is he okay?”

Louis choked back a sob and ran out of the room, Niall didn’t know what to do and Liam knew it was his job to tell him. Liam sucked in a deep breath and pulled up a chair beside his bed.

“How do you feel? You’re not hurting too much?”

Fear set in Zayn’s gut and he felt sick. “Liam, just tell me where Harry is? He’s okay, right? Right? Where is he? Please just tell me where he is.”

“Harry…he,” Liam couldn’t seem to find the words, he cleared his throat and he gripped Zayn’s hand tighter, “Harry didn’t make it.”

It took a minute for the words to sink in, for him to allow his brain to absorb just what that meant. “No..no. You’re a fucking liar, where is he? Niall, tell me he’s okay.” tears flowed from Zayn’s usually golden eyes, this had to be some kind of sick and cruel joke. Niall mouthed the words. ‘I’m sorry,’ and Zayn screamed out loud, the pain worse than anything he’d ever felt before.

It felt as if someone had just ripped his heart out and left his chest wide open, “No, fuck you, fuck you both. He’s okay, he has to be okay.” Zayn ripped the drip from his vein, not caring about the blood that poured out of him, he tried to stand on his feet and just crumbled to the ground in a heap of limbs.

“Niall, go get a nurse.” Liam instructed, rushing to Zayn’s side, helping him up and brought him into his lap.

Zayn cried harder than he’d ever cried before, hunched over from the pain he felt, mouth open as he silently sobbed. “Shh, it’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.” Liam attempted to soothe.

“No it won’t, no it won’t, nothing will ever be okay again. Not without Harry.”

“Nothing has been the same, I was right.” Zayn mumbled.

He missed everything about Harry, the way he’d smile with his tongue behind his teeth, the only way that really showed off his dimples. He missed the sound of his raspy voice, the way he would sing to him when the two of them were alone together. He missed seeing his mass of curls on the pillow next to him, the way his green eyes blinked open in the morning, looking at his boyfriend with pure love and adoration - his eyes were brighter than any emerald that he’d ever seen before when he first opened them. He missed watching his chest rising and falling while he slept. The way he’d sit between Harry’s legs, his long fingers rubbing at his head through his raven coloured hair. He missed his kisses, he missed hearing that he was loved.

He missed Harry.

They say that time heals everything, but Zayn knew that was a lie, it didn’t heal anything, it just made the pain worse. Each day got harder to live.

“I know you’ll be angry with me for this,” he spoke again, flipping the cap from the bottle of pills he retrieved from his bag. “But I need to see you again, I need to be with you again.”

Pouring a handful of the pills into his hand, Zayn chugged them down with his whiskey, repeating the process until he’d taken every last one.

He let the empty bottles fall down by him and curled up in a ball beneath Harry’s tomb stone, tears falling freely once more, he closed his eyes and thought about the boy who he had been living for, with each flashing memory, the pain started to wash away - the hole in his heart seeming to close until eventually, the darkness took over.