CJ’s P.O.V

I sighed deeply, sitting at my stool. I was restless, kicking my feet against the bars, tapping on the cash register, doing anything to keep my mind off, well, my mind.

I sighed again, wanted more than anything to go home and do what I’ve been doing for at least a week now- cuddling up with Faith on the couch and watching Netflix, random shows, over and over and over again. It had been a week since Harry had left, and I had to explain to Faith every day why she couldn’t go visit her daddy.

“Can you stop that?” Patrick snapped, looking over at me from where he was restocking the shelves.

“Sorry,” I automatically apologized, twisting my fingers together almost unconsciously, trying to keep my hands busy.

Patrick narrowed his eyes and came closer, setting a Sam Smith CD on the counter and leaning over it, examining me closely. “Okay, you just apologized to me, what’s up?”

I blinked. “I apologized?”

“Yes,” Patrick said, exasperated. “And if you can’t even remember that, something is seriously up with you.”

“Oh really?” I challenged, trying to use some of my old fire that I had when it came to dealing with Patrick and other assholes.

“Yeah, really,” Patrick said. “You hate my guts.”

“Well, I-”

Okay, douchebag had a point. I did hate Patrick’s guts, and I don’t know why he suddenly became bearable. He is a total, complete, asshole.

“That’s what I thought,” Patrick said, sounding satisfied. “So what’s up with you? I really can’t take any more of your stupid tapping.”

“Deal with it,” I retorted. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“That’s the CJ I remember,” Patrick said.

“I never left,” I snapped.

“Sure,” Patrick said, clearly humoring me.

I sighed deeply and decided to confide in him. “Patrick… it’s just that, you know Faith right?”

“Right,” Patrick nodded.

“Well, there’s this random guy that I know-you don’t- and he kind of stalked me, but not in a bad way, just was always hanging around the store, then he disappeared for like, ever, but then he came back and Faith kind of… adopted him? As like her dad? So now she calls him daddy, and she’s like, you and daddy don’t love each other, why not? And I’m just like-you’re six. Why are you asking if your parents are in love, like, what the fuck?”

I paused to continue my story, taking a deep breath. “And now, Harry-that’s his name- left again and I he left me a note, and he apologized for leaving, but I’m pretty sure that was about Faith, and she keeps asking if she can see her daddy, but she can’t, obviously, as he’s not here, and I just don’t know what to tell her because she would obviously be so upset that her dad just left, you know?” I looked at Patrick expectantly.

“Well,” he said slowly. “You use a lot of American slang, did you know that?”

I blinked. “That’s what you got out of that?”

“No, I got all of it-quite a story by the way- but it was hard to understand because 1, your American accent, 2, you talk really fast, 3, you use some American words that I’m not sure of what they mean, but whatever, I got the gist of the story.”

I frowned. “Well, you talk really fast, and your accent isn’t even posh, it’s mumbled and your words blur together and I don’t even know what half the words you use mean. At least most people know American slang.”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that we both hate each other’s accents,” Patrick says calmly, raising his hands in surrender. “But that’s beside the point, who is this twat?”

“There!” I exclaimed, pointing at him. “Twat! That’s a British word!”

“So?” Patrick retorted. “I am British, woman, what do you want me to do?”

“Just give me advice,” I whined.

“Well, who’s the guy?”

“Um, his name is, um, Harry,” I mumbled.

“You don’t know his last name?” Patrick’s tone was skeptical.

“Never came up?” I offered. “And for the record, he doesn’t know mine, either.”

“Like that makes it better,” Patrick mumbled but then continued. “Anyway, just… tell Faith, okay? Lying to her isn’t going to make it better. Trust me on this one, I have a younger sister and when my grandma died, we had to tell her. And CJ?”

“Yeah?”

“We still hate each other.”

“Agreed.”

Harry’s P.O.V

I sighed deeply as I walked off stage, depositing my microphone in a box and going straight to the nearest couch, collapsing on it, sighing again. The other boys all looked at each other, then me.

Great. Now they’re going to ask me questions.

“What’s wrong, Haz?” Louis asked.

Called it.

“Nothing,” I groaned, rolling over and burying my face in the corner of the couch.

“Something’s wrong,” Liam said. “We know you, Harry, don’t expect us to just leave you alone when something’s clearly bothering you.”

“Can you just please leave me alone?” I said, my voice mumbled by having my face squished into the couch.

“Fine,” Liam said huffily, striding off.

He’s way too sensitive when no one talks to him about their feelings.

Louis leaves too, and eventually Niall gets bored and wanders off to go find some random shit to do, probably to drink, leaving Zayn standing in front of the couch.

He’s not going to leave.

It’s something I both love and hate about Zayn. When something’s bothering you and you don’t want to talk about it, he just stays in front of you and stares, just reading into your soul until he magically knows what’s going on or you give in from having that intense stare on you for too long.

And what’s worse is that he’s a great listener.

Seriously, Zayn is the best.

Louis is alright, he’ll listen but he’s terrible at giving advice, and Niall’s too ADHD (I swear he’s undiagnosed) to listen for longer than thirty seconds and Liam’s alright, but he tried to get technical and complicated, so yeah, Zayn’s the best.

“Girl,” he said, summarizing my whole trouble in one word.

I groaned out loud, rolling over to face him. “How did you know?”

He shrugs, taking a seat next to me. “Lucky guess.”

Did I mention Zayn doesn’t talk that much either? I love it.

“Well, yeah, it’s a girl. Well, kind of two, to be completely honest,” I confessed.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Okay,” I took a deep breath. “So, there’s this girl-you don’t know her- and she lives in London and she’s American and works at a CD shop and really pretty, so I kind of just chilled at the shop she worked at for like, three months over break to try and win her over, but she didn’t fall for it, and then we had to leave for tour, and when I got back, she was working at the bar I was eating at and she yelled at me for leaving, and then the next thing I know, I’m in the CD shop again, and she has a daughter and-”

Zayn held up a hand, butting into my speech. “Slow down, mate, I can’t understand when you talk fast.”

“Sorry,” I apologized, and then continued. “So apparently after CJ-that’s the girl- yelled at me in the bar she found this little girl named Faith and adopted her, and took Faith to work with her and I was there, like the stalker I am, and CJ asked me to watch Faith, so now Faith calls me daddy and I’m her dad, and I had to leave to do this publicity tour, and I left CJ my number so she could call me and maybe I could talk to Faith, but she just left me a voicemail and she sounded super pissed and she told me not to call her,” I finished.

Zayn sat there for a second, digesting my words, drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch.

“Well?” I burst out, the suspense killing me.

“I think,” Zayn said slowly. “You are a dick.”

I groaned and flung myself back against the couch. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“Apparently not, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Zayn’s not one to mince words.

“You’re so mean,” I complained.

“I prefer the term honest.”

“So what am I going to do?” I questioned.

“Does she know you’re famous?” Zayn asked, leaning forward.

“No,” I grumbled. “I like that she doesn’t because then she doesn’t treat me like a famous person.”

“Well, if you were just honest with each other, then this wouldn’t have happened,” Zayn said. “You should tell her.”

“When?” I asked. “When we get back? Or should I call her right now, and have her swear at me for a solid half an hour?”

“Later,” Zayn deadpanned. “Let her cool down.”

“Alright. Thanks for the talk, man,” I said, gratified.

“No problem,” Zayn yawned and stretched, narrowly missing hitting me in the face

“Just because we just had a heart to heart doesn’t mean we’re not manly.”

“Agreed.”

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hey I just updated all of my stories bc #yolo and i did this one bc i'm feeling 1d af bc of four. Like, who listened to it and loved it? It's soooo much better than midnight memories, just sayin' and it's like, been on repeat for days. And can i just say that the song Fool's Gold is like my song right now? Okay? Enough said. Anyway, please enjoy this chapter, I kinda like it, i dunno *shrugs* just have fun with all the updates! Bye!

Love ya!

- T A Y L O R