.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。
—𝐋𝐎𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗡𝗔
"You listened to it yet?" Devin's voice echoed through my house as he walked into the living room, where I was currently seated.
I was in the middle of a sketch for a new design I was working on, and as much as it pained me to admit it, I could never fully focus when Devin was in the same house. He walked—no, stomped—so loudly that it was impossible to ignore him, and he never quite picked up on the hints when I needed silence to concentrate.
My head shot up from my sketchpad as Devin plopped down next to me. "Have I listened to what yet?" I asked, furrowing my brows. I closed my book gently and set it aside.
Devin didn't respond. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started playing a song. I opened my mouth to question him, but he held up a finger, silently telling me to trust the process.
I sighed, nodding, and let the music fill the room.
It didn't take long for me to recognize the artist—Abel. My eyebrows pulled together. Was this song about Bella? That didn't make sense. They were still together.
Devin must have caught my confusion because he shot me a look, the kind I had learned to read during our time together. It meant, Just wait for it.
So I did.
Why? 'Cause I'm heartless
And I'm back to my ways 'cause I'm heartless.
My eyes snapped to Devin. His widened in confirmation as he nodded, clearly thinking the same thing I was.
Still, I didn't tell him to stop the song. I let it play all the way through, even though I already knew what was coming—the one lyric that told me everything I needed to know.
Said I'm heartless
Tryna be a better man, but I'm heartless.
As the song ended, I scoffed under my breath, then turned to Devin, who pursed his lips, nodding in that I know, right? way.
The last thing I had ever told Zayn before we ended things for good was that he was heartless.
I still remembered the look on his face when I said it. It was as if that was the worst thing I could have possibly called him. And after that, he walked out of my house without so much as a glance back.
"He wrote the song, didn't he?" I asked, my voice quieter now. A small part of me hoped Devin would shake his head and tell me I was overthinking it—that Zayn hadn't written it, that this was all some ridiculous coincidence.
But Devin's slow nod confirmed my suspicions.
I let out a sigh, running a hand through my hair.
I wasn't exactly mad. I knew Zayn was an artist, and this was his job—I couldn't interfere with that. But no matter how much I tried to rationalize it, hearing a song written about me was still jarring.
Even though we were never official, Zayn had admitted before that he wrote songs about me. A couple had even made it onto his debut album.
I knew what I had signed up for. But this song? This felt like something else entirely.
"Vi?" Devin's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, making me jolt slightly. "You okay?"
"No—yeah, I'm fine," I coughed, waving him off.