hi, my name is ashley (qxeerharry) and i’m trying to raise some money to help my family get back on our feet. my mom had to take time off from her job to take care of my father after he had major surgery and used all her paid-days-off and then some so she got behind on some bills and she can’t catch up. i work as a waitress and my money isn’t constant so i barely make enough to take care of myself and my bills. they don’t know about this account and they have too much pride to make one theirselves. we are currently behind on several bills; cell phone bill, loan payments, etc. and with school starting soon, their will be expenses for my sister who is entering high school. we have no extra money, only enough for food and basic necessities. many of our bills are falling to the wayside in order to provide these necessities. any help is very appreciated, anything helps! thank you :)
Zayn had tried to let the thought go. He really had. But whenever he heard the word England, he still thought of Liam, as much as he’d tried to forget. And when his boss had mentioned an upcoming trip there, the word had rung through his ears and he’d lost anything said after that.
He still had Liam’s number saved in his contacts, even though he hadn’t dared touch it since that day. He still made sure that that was the first number to transfer whenever he switched phones. And he still had the sticky note that Liam left him once with his number on it. Just in case.
He punched the numbers in, letting out a little huff of air with each number he pushed on the screen. He wasn’t sure what would be worse: Liam answering or Liam not answering. He didn’t allow himself to think through either possibility too long, though, because he pressed the call button as he pulled it up to his ear with an inhale.
It rang. And it rang. And it rang. Zayn was about to give up when he heard a familiar voice. “Hi, you’ve reached Liam. Leave me a message.”
Even just the simple voicemail was almost enough. He’d heard his voice again. He could still hang up now and Liam would never even know Zayn had called. But then the beep came and Zayn was off, like a racehorse at the sound of a gunshot. “I know you probably didn’t pick this up cause, well, it’s an American number and who the fuck would be calling you in America? And is there even anyone in America you’d pay $2 a minute to speak to? And what the hell are phones even used for anyways? Not calling, that’s for sure.” It all came out in one breath and he knew he should probably just stop while he was ahead. But it was too late now. If he knew Liam at all, he knew that he would still be able to pick up Zayn’s voice in a heartbeat. Or, at least, he hoped he would be able to.
“I know you said—you told me, you did—that in time it would get easier. That I would forget.” He stopped. Whether that was for a breath or for dramatic effect, he wasn’t entirely sure. “But I haven’t. I still remember that day on the pier. Still remember your back as you walked away, and I know it’s late. I know this is late…” He paused at this, feeling the weight of the sentence hitting him deep. “Years late actually.” He bit his lip, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to well up from behind his eyes.
“But I’m calling now, like I should have at the pier, should’ve begged you to make it work but I didn’t. I fucking didn’t and I’m sorry.” Running his finger through his hair, he mumbled, “I broke your heart.”
He let out a heavy sigh, trying to rail himself back onto the whole point of the call. “I’m coming back to England for a couple of weeks.” Suddenly, he wasn’t sure what to say next, as if he was in one of his dreams where he’d try to scream out but couldn’t make a sound. “Call me back.” His fumbling fingers found the end button as he let out a shaky breath. He figured maybe he should’ve clarified, but it seemed anytime he opened his mouth to clear things up, ten thousand new thoughts came out at the speed of light. And that message was probably already daunting enough for Liam as it was anyway.
He waited, tried to distract himself by cooking dinner. Watched a movie while eating said dinner. He lasted an hour.
“I know you’re probably wondering why I haven’t come back to England in over four years now,” he started, phone up to his ear again. “Well, I have, okay? Cat’s out of the bag.” He sniffed. “But I couldn’t stand to talk to you, couldn’t stand to hear you tell me ‘no’ again, as I knew you would.” He looked down at the floor, at his fidgeting feet. “So I stayed quiet. And every time I came home, I tried to forget you. I tried to move on like you’d told me I’d already had.” Placing his hand on the bridge of his nose, he set his elbows on the counter, feeling his body shrink down. “But every damn thing reminded me of you. The light fixture in the hotel, the restaurant around the corner, even the fucking hobo on the street.”