He’s still wearing the same clothes from Friday night. My anger was too vivid, too in the moment to allow me to really see him. But now I do. I see the dark circles beneath his eyes. I see the sorrow on his face. I see something I hadn’t before. I see him. My best friend. I see the boy I loved morphing into a man who’s no longer a stranger. Right here, right now, he’s in front of me. There is no mask, no bravado, no distance. Just him, just Zayn, and my determination to hold onto the hate begins to crumble.
