Your POV
I’m just a regular teenager. I go to college, I have a job, I have flaws and I’m still growing up. But I’m also dating Zayn Malik. So take all my stress and add that to it. His fans never really liked me because I don’t spend enough time with him, but I have a life too and Zayn understands that. So whenever we see each other, we cherish it. There were some fans that liked me and they’d always send me love tweets, it was sweet, but not enough to overpower the hate. Like a normal teen, I also had acne. I hated it and I just couldn’t get rid of it. Fans always pointed it out to me and it hurt. When I first met Zayn, I put a ton of makeup on to cover it up and then he saw me one time without it on. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to cry. But he looked me in the eyes and told me he didn’t care, that it was a part of growing up. And he was right. I’m just a normal person. Why can’t others see that as well?
But other than that, I loved being with him. He makes me stress-free and just enjoys his life, I couldn’t ask for more. But I knew before getting with Zayn that he sometimes had a temper. I’d seen when people called him bad names and he would just take it hard and lose it. I was there for him though. He never lashed out at me and I had hoped he never would. But never say never, because today was the day he did.
Zayn came home in a pissy mood. I had seen the things on twitter that people were saying so I needed to be there for him.  “I can’t catch a fuckin break anymore! What more do these people want?!” “Zayn you can’t please everyone babe, just don’t let it get to you. C’mon, you know better than this.” “You’re right babe. I just need a drink.” I sat back and watched him. One drink turned into 8. He was drunk already. He was lightweight so he couldn’t hold much. And when he was drunk he would just say a bunch of nonsense. I walked over to him because he was trying to get to the room but kept falling into the wall. I put his arm around my neck and helped him to the bed. When I finally got him there I layed him down and started to take off his shoes and clothes, leaving him in his boxers. He was slurring words but I wasn’t really paying attention to him. “(Y/N)…….you know…you get a lot of hate too.” “Yes Zayn.” “But…..why?” “Ask your fans.” He took a moment to take that in. “I mean sure you have a lot of acne……….and you could wear more makeup to cover it……it doesn’t hurt (Y/N), you’d look……better.” And with that he passed out. I just stood there, teary eyed, looking at him. Did he really just agree with his fans?? Everyone knows that the truth comes out when you’re drunk. Is this how Zayn really felt? I’m sorry I don’t pack on my makeup like his last fuckin girlfriend. 
I was so mad now. I threw his clothes on the floor and grabbed my purse. I didn’t want to be here when he woke up. And I knew he’d say he doesn’t remember anything. So I left him a little note.
Zayn,
Since you think I should wear makeup to cover up something I can’t control…..go fuck yourself.
xx.
I smiled as I wrote it and left it on his night stand. As I was walking to my car, I tweeted to the fans. ‘You guys got what you wanted. He agrees with you. Feel free to have him.’ I turned off my phone and drove to my friend’s house. She knew how I felt about my acne and my insecurities. How dare Zayn say that about me. I was hurt but I was more so mad. I believed him when he said I was fine. But I didn’t need him to make me feel good about myself. He can just find someone else. 

Zayn’s POV
I woke up with a massive headache. Shit, I must’ve drank a lot than I meant to. I reached over and patted the other side of the bed expecting to find (Y/N) but it was empty. I opened my eyes and saw the room was empty. I looked to the nightstand to look at the clock but instead there was a note with my name on it. I sat up and read it……what the fuck? What happened? Why would she be saying that to me. Just then my phone started ringing. I looked at the caller id and it was Harry.“Hello..” “Zayn what’d you do man? What’s wrong with (Y/N)?” “What are you talking about?” “Look on twitter man.” I opened up my laptop and saw a bunch of tweets directed to me about breaking (Y/N)’s heart. There was a ton, but most of them talked about me calling her ugly, that she needed to cover up her acne. What? I clicked on her page and saw her most recent tweet. ‘Feel free to have him.’ Did we break up? I looked at the note again. ‘Go fuck yourself.’ I guess we did. “Harry, I don’t know what happened.” “Let me call around and I’ll find out, just try calling her man. It seems like it was something big.” “K thanks.”

We hung up and I just stared at the computer. Did I really say this? I hope not, because that would be the stupidest thing ever. I tried calling her but her phone went straight to voicemail. Ugh. She needs to pick up.