Crooked Heart

Later, when she looked back on the last few days, Fiona would remember them as some of the worst of her life.

When you’ve done something wrong, are fully aware of it, and yet unable to repair the fault, the hopelessness is almost unbearable. Fiona called in sick to work and got two days off (the benefit of the cinema hiring other students for the summer, it seemed), after she tried to get through a shift and found that she was too distracted. That, and there was an ache in her chest that refused to go away.

Normally, Fiona would have loved a few nights to herself at the flat. But it had been forty eight hours since Harry walked out, and she would give anything for him to come back. At this point, she would even be happy to see Niall, because at least it would mean she wasn’t alone with her thoughts.

Fiona sat on the balcony, abandoned book by her knee, head back against the wall as she breathed and listened to the city. She’d thrown out her cigarettes in a fit of frustration the same night Harry left, and though the physical cravings still came, the fact that the first thing she’d thought about after Harry told her he loved her was that she needed a cigarette flashed through her head every time too. Now, her body and mind waged a battle over whether to satisfy the craving or ease her anxiety. The latter had been winning so far, and Fiona was at least glad that cigarettes had ceased to be an anxiety relief in of themselves, and had actually become the opposite.

There was also comfort to be found in the fact that she'd actually gotten out of bed. Yesterday, despite an inability to sleep and no food, Fiona had remained rooted to her mattress. This was partially because her sheets smelled like Harry: spearmint gum, his cologne, and chocolate (from spending the majority of his day around the stuff at work. Fiona liked it when he came home smelling like freshly baked bread). But the other reason was less romantic; the ache in Fiona's chest had been almost paralyzing, and the thought of going outside and seeing people who could express themselves with ease, weren't worried about what might happen, and didn't let some stupid memories from months ago get in the way of happiness, was too much to overcome.

But today was better. She'd started off the morning with a long soak in the bath, had a bowl of cereal and fruit (perhaps proving that Harry had successfully managed to influence her breakfast habits, or maybe just that she missed him and was eating healthier to compensate), and had been sitting on the balcony reading since then. It was just past noon, and the sun was warm on her bare legs. Fiona was aware that she needed to do something soon, because Harry wasn't just going to show up at her door like everything was fine. In a way, him staying away was pushing her to conquer her demons. It was always going to be painful, but Fiona had hoped that Harry would be there to hold her hand. She knew, but had chosen to ignore, that this day would come. Love was inevitable from the moment she looked at Harry and actually saw him. Admitting that was easy enough now, but telling him was another matter.

Of course, Fiona was never going to let Harry leave. That was a decision she’d made long before this, the moment she realized what they had was important. She just needed time to get to a place where she could face him and give him a reason to stay. Yesterday, she lay in bed. Today, she got up. Tomorrow, she would talk to Zayn, who knew Harry best, but who also knew Fiona, and could guide her in the right direction.

It was strange, not talking to Harry. She wondered if he was feeling the same way, or if the thought of seeing her was harder for him. That prospect took her down a dangerous path, so she tried to adjust her focus by retrieving her book. It only worked for a few pages, and then she searched for something else to do.

A box of matches lay discarded under the plastic chair at the other end of the balcony, next to the plant that Niall never remembered to water. Fiona stretched an arm across and retrieved the box, pulling out a match from inside it. She dragged the end across the side of the box, igniting it. A clean flame flickered in the breeze, heat radiating down to Fiona’s fingers on the end of the match. She held it for as long as she could without burning herself, then tossed it into the ashtray that she hadn’t gotten rid of yet.

She wouldn’t be, because it had a new use now. Fiona lit another match and watched the flame burn down.

That evening, Eli called. He’d just gotten his first mobile, and was texting Fiona every other day about nothing, for the most part, occasionally throwing in some actual information.

“You sound really tired,” Eli said, concern in his tone.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

Fiona was far from fine, but she didn’t want to burden her little brother with that. “Yeah, kid. Tell me what’s going on at school. You’re back on now, yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And?”

“It’s been okay, I’ve got lots of homework. But Dad’s been helping me with it.”

“Has he? Is he actually being helpful, or just telling you when you’ve got an answer wrong?”

“No, no, it’s good. Dad’s been acting different since you left, he’s at home a lot more than before. And him and Mum haven’t been fighting so much. They still do, but it’s...it’s better now, I think.”

Fiona sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “That’s really good, Eli. And you? You’re happy?”

“Of course I am, Fiona,” Eli replied, like this was obvious. Then, “Are you?”

“Oh, kid, I…” She pulled on a loose strand of hair. “Sure. Yeah, of course.”

“Fiona? What’s wrong?”

“I told you, nothing. Just…I want to hear about you. Can you just talk for a bit? Tell me what’s going on.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Okay,” Eli said, sounding unsure. “If something was wrong, you’d tell me, right?”

“I don’t know about that, kid. You don’t need to know what’s going on here.”

“Then why do you need to know what I’m doing? It’s unfair,” Eli huffed, and Fiona pressed a palm to her forehead. “I don’t like it when you’re sad. Especially when you hide it because you think I can’t tell.”

That made all the excuses in her throat curl up like paper in a fire. Of course he knew. He was her brother — her kind, empathetic brother. The opposite of her in every way.

“I might have messed up something good,” she told him. The utter silence on Eli’s end of the line told her that he was listening intently, even keeping his breathing quiet. “Harry told me something very important, and I couldn’t reciprocate. Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“It means I couldn’t do the same thing for him that he did for me.”

“What did he do?”

“That’s not important,” she said, and Eli made a disgruntled sound. “The problem is that he left, and I have to do something that I’m afraid of to get him back.”

Eli took a moment to respond. He must have been thinking hard about it. “Are you going to do it? I don’t want Harry to go away, he makes you happy.”

“I don’t want him to go away either, kid. I’m gonna fix it really soon. There’s just some stuff I have to do first.”

“You’d better,” her brother responded, and it made Fiona breathe out a laugh. “He’s nice and funny. And he makes you smile.”

“He does. Thanks for listening, Eli.”

“Thanks for telling me something for once.”

“Sorry for all the other times,” she said softly, and Eli hummed. “Can you tell me stories now? Your stories make me smile too.”

“Okay.”

+++

The rain had been coming down at a steady rate all morning, and the temperature had dropped over five degrees from the day before. Fiona stood with her hands in her pockets outside Zayn’s work, an umbrella shielding her from the drizzle and wellies protecting her feet from seemingly omnipresent puddles. He emerged a few minutes later, hoisting his backpack over one shoulder and ducking under Fiona’s umbrella.

“Want a light?” he asked, drawing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulling out a smoke and lighter from inside.

“I, um, I sort of quit,” Fiona replied.

Zayn paused with the lighter in front of his face, cigarette between his lips. “Just like that?” he asked, and she nodded. Zayn lowered the lighter. “I can do this later, if you want.”

“D’you mind? They make me feel nauseous now.”

“Course not,” he said, and put the cigarettes back into his pocket. “So, where are we going, then?”

“Depends, what do you feel like eating?”

Zayn squinted into the distance, rubbing his chin. “I could go for some shawarma.”

“Mmm, yes,” Fiona agreed.

There was a spot a few blocks over that Zayn went to for his lunch break sometimes that he lead Fiona to. He had forty-five minutes before he had to get back to work, where they were brainstorming some big new project. He told Fiona about it as they walked, hands moving in the air and brow slightly furrowed in the way he did when he was talking about his craft.

Once they ordered and sat down, Fiona jumped into the real reason she asked Zayn to have lunch with her. She had warned him about it via text the day before, because it wasn’t the sort of thing one discussed lightly. Fiona’s chest was tight at the prospect of talking, and she twisted a strand of hair around her fingers — coiled, loose, coiled, loose — while Zayn waited patiently for her to be ready.

“I fucked up,” she said.

Zayn’s expression stayed even. “This isn’t all your fault,” he said, and the knot in Fiona’s stomach exploded into butterflies. “Harry got impatient.”

Fiona wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “Did he, um, did you two talk about…everything?”

“He’s barely been at the house except to sleep, so we haven’t had a chance to talk. But I expect he will, if you don’t go to him first.” The conversation was temporarily halted as their orders were called out. Zayn went and fetched the food before Fiona could react, then got right back to it once the plates were in front of them. “Are you planning on doing that any time soon, then?”

She picked a piece of meat off her plate, chewing slowly. “I needed a few days to process. But I think I’m ready. I don’t know, this is all…I don’t know what to do.”

“Just tell him what you’re feeling, that’s all he wants to hear. It might not have come off that way, but I’m pretty sure he just wants some kind of verbal confirmation from you. He can only guess for so long, yeah?”

“The talking is the hardest bit, though,” Fiona sighed, slouching back in her chair.

Zayn actually grinned, making her scowl. “That’s kind of the point, Fiona. D’you know how long it took me to tell Cass I loved her? Out loud, like?”

Fiona shook her head.

“Over a year. Now, that wasn’t because I didn’t love her until then. I just showed it in my own way, yeah? But she wanted to hear me say it, even if she knew that was how I felt. She’s not as soft as Harry, though, so the first time she said it and I didn’t reply she didn’t leave. She just said she knew I’d say it when I was ready, even though she was hurt that I couldn’t do it yet.”

“Sounds like she understands you pretty well, then.”

Zayn sent her a look. “You think Harry doesn’t understand you? Jesus, Fiona, is your head screwed on right? Nobody’s ever been as good with you as he is.”

“Then what happened? Why did it all go wrong?”

Zayn set down his wrap, wiping his hands off on a serviette. “Look, you aren’t perfect, right?”

“Far from it,” she muttered.

“So what makes you think Harry is?”

Her silence made Zayn smirk in triumph. He ate while Fiona sat there, berating herself for once more not considering the bigger picture. Despite any progress she might have made, she was still having trouble considering other people in their own right, rather than simply comparing them to herself. Harry might have been able to say his feelings out loud, but he had other weaknesses that Fiona didn’t think of.

“Besides,” Zayn continued. “He’s been leagues ahead of you this entire time.”

“And that means...what, exactly?”

Zayn took a sip of water, then ran his tongue across his teeth, like he was purposely drawing this out to torture her. “He was in love with you while you were still trying to figure out whether or not you actually liked him. He’s been all in from the start, Fiona. Of course he got to this point faster than you have.”

“All this time?” she asked, but it was more to herself than Zayn.

“Trust me, I’ve been dealing with him moaning about you for ages. It’s quite annoying, really, but I told him to wait. Clearly he didn’t wait long enough.”

Fiona was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Harry had been slowly falling in love with her for months, maybe even a year, long before she looked at him romantically. She finally started to eat her meal, but it had cooled down significantly. Zayn popped out for a smoke while Fiona finished up, but they stayed at their table after stacking up their plates and crumpled serviettes.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Zayn asked, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. Fiona, in the middle of tying her hair up into a ponytail, raised her eyebrows. “Are you gonna tell him you love him or what?”

“How do you know I—”

It was Zayn’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Come on, Fiona.”

She inhaled deeply. “I didn’t realize it until after he left,” she told Zayn, her gaze flicking up from the table to meet his. “I do love him. Is it supposed to feel this shit?”

“That’s only because you fucked up,” Zayn said with a grin.

“Oi, you said it wasn’t all my fault.”

He chuckled, then his expression became more subdued. “Well done, though. Admitting it is the first step, innit?”

Fiona did feel the slightest bit lighter. She nodded, cupping her face in her palms, elbows on the edge of the table. Maybe saying that she loved Harry out loud for the first time to their mutual friend instead of him wasn’t the standard way of declaring one’s feelings, but Fiona did always have a crooked way of going about things.

“So, what am I supposed to do now? Just tell him?”

“You’ll have to,” Zayn said. “He’s not gonna come back on his own.”

+++

The rain continued into Wednesday. Fiona sat at the usual table at the Chip Shop by the river, picking at her food slowly. Allison was running behind for some unexplained reason, which was unlike her, and Fiona was trying not to pester her with texts. This was one of the longest times they’d gone not seeing each other while they were both in the same city, and part of this was Fiona’s fault, since she’d been holed up in her flat. But it was also Allison not responding to her messages until hours later, still unable to meet up.

She strode in twenty minutes after their agreed upon time, dripping wet from the rain. All of Fiona’s irritation at her friend being late melted away when Allison collapsed into the chair across from her, pushing the damp hair from her face and sighing. “Fucking teenagers,” she sneered.

There weren’t many things that ranked above complaining on Fiona’s list of Great Things To Do With Friends.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Fiona asked casually, handing Allison something to wipe the running eyeliner from her face with.

“These kids came in when I was like, ten minutes from being done at work,” Allison said. “Two of the boys were passing around a football, for starters. Who does that in a Starbucks? Mel, who’s like, our best looking barista, was working at the till. So of course the boys start flirting with her, even though it’s clearly making her uncomfortable. Then one of the girls, who I think was dating one of the boys, starts yelling at him right there at the counter. They get into a massive fight, still standing there, and nobody knows what to do. It cools down for a few minutes and they get their drinks, but then she freaks out again — though, mind you, this kid deserved it, he was being a prat — and throws the Frappuccino at him! Can you believe that? It gets all over the floor. Since I was on clean up, of course I had to do it, which took an extra ten minutes after my shift finished up. And that is why I’m late.”

“That was a good story, thank you for sharing.”

“I’m gonna get some food,” Allison said, shedding her coat and heading over to the counter.

They didn’t get into anything serious until Allison’s food came. Then, without any preamble, Allison told Fiona about Liam. “We went for coffee,” she said. “I’d had some wine when I texted him, because it felt a bit weird, y’know? He’s your friend, like, and he fancied you for so long.”

Fiona waved a hand dismissively. “We’ve covered that part. How did it go?”

“It was…” Allison paused. Then, a blush rose on her cheeks, making Fiona smile. “He’s really lovely. A proper gentleman and everything. I’ve only ever seen him at parties before, yeah, so I really didn’t know what to expect.”

“What else? Did you make another date?”

“Sort of. I’m working a lot, and so is he, so we said we’d see what happens. He did text me this morning though to ask how I was, which was nice.”

It was refreshing to see Allison taking everything in moderation. She’d been good about that since the whole Niall debacle, but Fiona was pleased to watch her friend grow nonetheless.

Allison told Fiona about the rest of her date with Liam, how Liam was laid back but not as confident as she had expected. Like with Eli, Fiona was happy to sit and listen for as long as was needed. She had come to find that this part of reciprocal friendship was well suited to her, she liked being able to engage on a nonverbal level. It hadn’t been until recently that she was actually good at it, though, because she used to want to get her own issues out first and often forgot to ask how the other person was doing.

“So, I have to ask,” Fiona said, when Allison had finished. “Do you want this to continue? Or is it just fun?”

“I don’t know yet,” Allison answered honestly. “I do like him, but I don’t know how yet. Time’ll help me figure that one out, though.”

“But you want to see him again?”

“Yeah, I do. I guess…with Niall, we got on fine, but it was just as mates. I think there’s something more with Liam, but I don’t know where it’s going.”

Fiona smiled, a little bit rueful. “Well, it seems that you’re on the right track. Keeping it simple is working for you, yeah?”

“You sound like you regret something,” Allison said suspiciously. “Don’t start comparing us, Fiona, you know we’re different when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Right, because I’m complicated.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Doesn’t make it not true.”

Allison sighed, reaching across the table to grab Fiona’s hand. “I don’t lie to you ever, you know that, right?” she asked, and Fiona nodded. “So when I tell you I didn’t mean it like that, you’ve got to believe me. You aren’t any more complicated than I am. We’ve got different minds and hearts is all, understand?”

“Yes, mum,” Fiona said quietly. Allison patted her hand twice, then drew back and resumed eating her lunch.

The woman who ran the chip shop had made baklava the night before, and she brought over two free slices for Allison and Fiona for being her most consistent customers over the last few years. As Fiona dug into the sweet dessert, she could feel Allison’s eyes on her. It wasn’t a rude stare, just a curious one.

“You want to ask me something,” Fiona stated.

“You haven’t brought up Harry once. Are things still…”

Although they hadn’t seen each other, Fiona had called Allison within a day of Harry walking out. It was three in the morning at the time, so Allison couldn’t come over, but she’d stayed on the line for two hours talking about everything but Harry, because Fiona couldn’t sleep but she also wasn’t ready to say anything about what happened yet.

“I haven’t seen him,” Fiona answered. Allison pursed her lips, waiting for Fiona to continue. “But I am going to. I’m just…well, I’m being a bit of a coward about it all.”

Allison’s hand was already reaching for Fiona’s. “How do you mean?”

“It’s like, I know how he feels now, and it’s this massive thing between us. If I go to him, it’s not like it’s just going to go away. What if he doesn’t just take me back? If I’ve lost his trust over this?”

A few minutes passed before Allison responded, but her hand never left Fiona’s. “Okay. Well, do you love him?” she asked.

The answer to this question was no longer giving Fiona pause. “Yeah,” she said. “Fuck.” Fiona slumped back in her chair, her hand slipping from Allison’s until it was just their fingertips touching. She ran her other hand through her hair, rings catching on the strands. “I really do.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

That’s what Zayn said.”

He’s right.

Fiona sighed. “I guess I’m just bad at being optimistic.”

They wandered along the riverbank for a short while, but eventually turned up and ventured back into the city. Fiona had to work that night, despite wanting more time off, and only had a couple hours before she had to be at the cinema. While they still had time, Allison and Fiona wandered into a few stores, not buying anything, and every once in a while Allison would reach and squeeze Fiona’s arm or touch her shoulder, just to remind her that she was there. Fiona had been feeling a little bit lost all week, and having her best friend back in her orbit was a much needed comfort.

+++

The trouble with being ready to tell Harry how she felt was that once Fiona reached that point, she didn’t know how to do it. Sending a text seemed inappropriate, and even though Fiona wasn’t the most patient person when she set her mind on something, this was important and deserved a careful approach.

The day stretched on and on — Fiona didn’t want to be at work, she wanted to talk to Harry. Now, instead of an ache in her chest distracting her from her tasks, it was a flutter in her stomach. She was stationed at the till in the concession, so she didn’t have to deal with popcorn, but the smell would still stick to her when she got home, meaning she’d have to shower, taking up another fifteen minutes before she could look for Harry.

By the end of her shift, Fiona’s anxiety had kicked up. She tried to push it away, focus on the positive, but that was precisely what was making her nervous. She listened to some calming music on the bus ride home, keeping her earbuds in as she went up to her flat. Before she hopped in the shower, she sent off a text to Zayn, asking where Harry was.

Work. He should be back in an hour

Are you finally gonna talk to him ?

yes

Well get over here then you can have dinner with us . We just ordered takeaway

be there in 30

Fiona took the quickest shower she could manage, just to wash off the day, then threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, jumper under her arm for the cool evening. She flicked off the lights and slipped on a pair of sandals, bag slung over her shoulder, and headed out.

The flutter in her stomach had morphed into a beehive. Every once in a while there would be a buzz in her throat, a stray bee venturing away from the rest, and Fiona would close her eyes and breathe slowly.

There was no silver car parked outside the house, meaning Harry wasn’t back yet. Fiona let herself in through the unlocked door, hearing Louis and Zayn yell at each other while they played video games before she even took two steps into the house. Rather than go towards them, she went to the kitchen, where she knew Cassidy would be.

“Hey, you!” Cassidy greeted, sliding off her stool to hug Fiona. “Oh, it’s been ages! It’s good to see you.”

Fiona managed a weak smile.

“You look like you need a drink. Wine?”

“Please,” Fiona replied, and sat at the island while Cassidy grabbed another glass.

The takeaway came within a few minutes of Fiona’s arrival, and they all crowded around the island in the kitchen to distribute the various dishes they’d ordered from a nearby Chinese restaurant. Fiona’s stomach was still a bit uneasy, but the wine had helped calm her nerves, so she selected a small portion of vegetables and noodles and sat back while the others piled their plates high with chicken and rice dishes.

Zayn checked his watch a few times during the meal, which Fiona picked up on, only because he looked at her every time. After the third instance, she kicked his stool. “What is it?”

“Harry should’ve been back by now,” Zayn said. Cassidy and Louis looked up from their food, but only Cassidy remained attentive. “Maybe there was a meeting after they closed up, that happens sometimes. Or he could be doing prep for tomorrow.”

“Don’t they have people for that?” Cassidy asked.

“Not in the pastry kitchen. There’s a baker that comes in at four in the morning to do all the bread and that, but all the prep work is done by Harry and the other cook.”

“He helps in the regular kitchen, too,” Fiona offered. “He said he’s been picking up some shifts working on the line. Maybe he’s doing prep too?”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Zayn said with a shrug. He looked at Fiona sympathetically. “He’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

The others chatted easily, and Fiona found herself sitting back quietly, picking at her food but not really eating much. As time ticked by, they eventually moved into the living room and put on a film, because Cassidy didn’t want to watch the boys play video games and Zayn had a tendency to do what she wanted, thus outnumbering Louis.

Though she liked hanging out with them, it was difficult to stay present when the reason she’d come in the first place was noticeably absent, leaving a space in her chest where he was supposed to be. Cassidy or Zayn drew her back in when they noticed her drifting — a hand on her shoulder or a comment about the film directed her way — but as midnight drew closer, and it seemed unlikely for Harry to return, Fiona got up off the couch and went to get her bag.

“I think I’m just gonna go home.”

Despite the late hour, she refused their offers to chip in for a cab. There was a night bus that went near her apartment building coming in ten minutes, she’d be fine. She tried not to show how distraught she was feeling, but when Cassidy hugged her tighter than normal, Fiona suspected she hadn’t hidden it very well.

It was a quiet journey back to the flat. Fiona couldn’t believe that, of all the nights, Harry hadn’t shown up. She wondered if he went out with his coworkers, that he’d be back after two in the morning, but it seemed out of character. Perhaps he’d decided to drive home without telling anyone — his family were only a forty-five minute drive out of the city, probably less this late at night. But that seemed less likely still, leaving Fiona searching for a reasonable answer.

By the time she got home, discouraged and tired, Fiona decided that a cup of tea would help ease her nerves a bit. She left her sandals by the door, not bothering with the lights, and fiddled with the box of matches she’d been carrying around all week as she felt her way down the dark corridor, passing her and Niall’s bedrooms and the bathroom. At the threshold of the main room, she reached around the corner and flipped the light switch.

With the room illuminated, Fiona’s eyes zeroed in on a pair of boots discarded on the floor. Her chest felt like it might cave in from the pressure that was suddenly pressing against it, her veins crackling with a rush of sensation. With tentative, nervous steps, Fiona edged further into the living area side, eventually spotting a head of long, curly hair. She sucked in a breath, her throat making an uncharacteristic squeaking sound.

Coming home to find someone asleep on the larger and more comfortable of the two couches that Fiona and Niall owned (Fiona really was the only person who preferred the ugly green couch) was not an unusual circumstance to find herself in. It was different this time, however, because he hadn’t slept on that couch in a long time.

“Fee?”

Her knees were weak, maybe due to the lack of sleep for the past week, probably due to the boy shifting into a sitting position and blinking at her slowly, pushing the hair back from his face. Fiona wrapped her arms around herself, letting out a slow, shaky breath. He was here. Of course he was here.

“You came back.”