Tuning Heartstrings

It was so unlike him – being sober. In all honesty, you could say it was a foreign concept, although that may have been exaggerating a bit. Nonetheless, for the past week, the young, grungy male hadn't touched a drop of alcohol.

His second day of sobriety, he had willingly tossed every bottle of liquor he owned – although, if he were being honest with himself, it was something he regretted later that night when his throat began to itch with need for a beverage. Zayn was going cold turkey on his drinking habits, hoping he'd be able to withstand the urge to down a shot of tequila or a glass of whiskey.

He'd mope around his flat every day, trying to find something to do with himself as to pass the time. He never had much to do anyways besides go to clubs and bars and find new places to make a drunken ass out of himself, so with his usual productive agenda being thrown out the window as well, he was left completely unamused. And during his indoor confinement, whenever he heard his neighbor from 408 leave her apartment, he would freeze and stop all movement, even his breathing hitching in his throat as he listened to her light footsteps echo in the halls till they could be heard no more.

Her presence reminded him of that night he had hit a new low – of how pathetic he must have looked to her being drunk off his ass to the point where he had completely lost himself to a drunken stupor. Not to mention how he had jumped to ridiculous conclusions about why she was in his home. Whenever the thoughts plagued him, he new that he would have to build up the courage to face her and to apologize to her for being such a dickhead. She didn't deserve it – not one bit of it.

After James had left her apartment, later that day he had gone down to the building manager's office, inquiring to view the CCTV footage from the previous night to see if that outrageous story had panned out as she had claimed it had. To his surprise, it was just as she had said.

From the outside camera's view, you could see her being burdened with his ragged form by the cabbie who quickly made a desperate getaway. As he watched her carrying his unconscious form all the way from the door to the elevator and then into the safety of his home, his gut felt like it was ready to puke itself up.

She hadn't been exaggerating. He had been so far gone that night, and when he witnessed it on the small screen, he hadn't felt that disappointed in himself for a long time. And it was that same disappointment that made him want to binge on drinks and retreat into himself so he could forget about it all, and knowing that he shouldn't led him to focus on his cigarettes, nearly finishing a packet a day.

He had truly hit rock bottom, and he felt the climb back up to the surface would be nearly insurmountable.

As for Billie, she was reminded of that night's occurrences every time she passed by Zayn's apartment door – and she hated it. It was a constant reminder of how she had worried about him and how she was so rudely treated for what she did that night.

To be honest, it bothered her more than she would have liked to admit. Billie usually wasn't one to hold grudges, and if she and someone else weren't getting along, she was one to always forget them and move on with her life. However, for one reason or another, this was different. Zayn was different.

During university lessons when she was losing focus, when she was walking down the streets of Bradford, or even before bed when she was nearly passed out from exhaustion, he would be there in the back of her thoughts to take her mind elsewhere, and she would then find herself re-living that night and seeing how broken Zayn had appeared that night in the bathroom.

And when that happened, she found herself trying to find a reason as to why he had so furiously blown up on her like he had. He had woken up to find her in his home, and she knew that reason was sound enough for anyone to be upset over – especially when they weren't on the best of terms. Nonetheless, she had been there in his best interests, to care for him when he was so clearly out of sorts. Surely her goodwill had to have counted for something, but she supposed he thought otherwise.

Thinking about him drained Billie and irritated her.

She was glad that she hadn't seen him for the past week, but she knew that she was also very concerned. She hoped he wasn't drinking himself to death again, because even though he irritated the shit out of her most of the time, she knew that he wasn't a completely bad guy from the remorse he had displayed when in the bathroom that night.

Why'd I have to run out of toilet paper that night? She thought as she walked through the familiar alleyway, stopping at a certain door and entering when she let out a tired sigh.

Billie hadn't been to Mrs. Fields' in quite a while, being too consumed with her studies and thinking about Zayn to really remember about the humble shop and its pleasant owner, however, when she entered the cafe, the smell of fresh brew seemed to make her feel at home.

Hearing the usual ding that accompanied the door opening and closing, that owner strolled over into the front of her shop and smiled infectiously when she noticed the brunette that she hadn't seen for what felt like months. “Billie,” she sighed out, coming out from behind the counter to engulf her in a hug, “it's so good to see you again.”

“You, too, Mrs. Fields. How have you been?”

“Well enough,” she replied, “and yourself? I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I'm getting by,” Billie chuckled. “I've been swamped by some of my classes. We've had a lot of exams lately so it's been a bit hectic.”

Mrs. Fields guided her to an empty table and reassured her, “Don't worry, Billie. I know that you'll be able to get through them. Can I get you anything to drink, dear?”

“Do you have any hot chocolate?” She inquired. While she may have wanted to some coffee to wake her up, after thinking – yet again – about Zayn, she was feeling like she needed something a little more on the sweet side to pick her up.

“Coming right up,” she winked.

Billie got out some notes from her bag that she had brought along to look over and shook her head in an attempt to forget the guy who forever preoccupied her mind. When Mrs. Fields brought over a mug with the sweet beverage, she also handed the young girl a complimentary blueberry muffin, insisting that she couldn't study on an empty stomach. The gesture was met with immense thanks from the young woman, and soon the owner returned to the back of her store to continue her baking of more goods.

While away, she began to wonder to herself about the last time Zayn had frequented her shop. He hadn't been by in a while, and he usually dropped by at least once every two weeks. It was almost concerning in a way, knowing just how reckless the lad had become with his drinking and smoking, and when she never saw him for periods of time, she would become worried.

Her eyes looked towards the door that led to the front of the store. Perhaps Billie might know something?

Hoping she would, Mrs. Fields returned to the front of her store and sat in a neighboring chair beside Billie who then turned to her with a curious smile. “Is something the matter, Mrs. Fields?”

“Oh, no, not at all, dear.” She reassured. “I was simply wondering, have you heard from Zayn recently? He hasn't come round lately and, if I'm being honest, I worry about the poor boy with all his partying and whatnot.”

Hearing Mrs. Fields confide in her made her want to spill the beans about him, but there was a part of her that didn't want to worry Mrs. Fields further than she probably already was. Not only that, but she had finally just gotten him out of her head and she didn't particularly want him back in there to distract her once again.

Mrs. Fields placed a hand atop her own, though, squeezing it comfortingly and staring into her eyes. “Please let me know if you have, Billie. Zayn means a lot to me and I want to be sure that he's alright.”

Nodding her head, Billie decided to tell her about her last encounter with him. “I don't know if you know, but Zayn and I are neighbors. About a week ago, I was heading out of my flat around one in the morning when I saw him being carried towards the apartment building by a taxi driver. He was completely drunk and when I realized it was him, the driver left him with me because he had thrown up in the back of his car and he didn't want to deal with him anymore.

“I had to carry him back inside and up to his apartment, but then I was kinda worried because he was just so far gone. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that drunk before and when I remembered that he had thrown up in the cab, I was worried that he might again when he's alone and unconscious. I didn't feel like I should leave him alone so I stayed with him there till the morning.

“I ended up falling asleep, and when he woke up, he kind of blew up on me for being in his apartment. I can understand that he'd be pretty upset with seeing me in his home like that, but I ended up yelling right back at him. I haven't seen him since I walked out of there, I'm not even sure if I've heard him leave.”

Smiling with glazed over eyes, Mrs. Fields leaned over and gave her a hug from where she sat. “Thank you for telling me, Billie, and thank you for taking care of him. I can't tell you how much it means to me.”

Mrs. Fields retreated into the back of the store, Billie staring at her with uneasiness in the pit of her stomach all the while, and when she was alone, she quickly wiped away a few tears that escaped her eyes and calmed herself down. It seemed as if Zayn was beginning to get worse and she knew that she couldn't keep this to herself.

Getting out her phone and dialing a number, a familiar voice greeted her ears. “Hello, Mrs. Fields, how are you?” The mother of Zayn inquired sweetly as per usual.

“Well, Trisha, thank you. I need to talk to you though,” she began, “it's about Zayn.”