perrιe мalιĸ || zerrie

perrιe мalιĸ || zerrιe

(A/N: This was (and still is) posted on my Zerrie tumblr as well, so if you see this somewhere else, it's because it's posted in two places. Thanks!)

Perrie Malik. The name that was scribbled everywhere on the inside of her notebook, it was one of the reasons nobody could borrow it for missed notes from the lecture that the teacher spat out in half the time given to her.  Perrie always finished early, giving her more time to doodle the name and daydream.  She couldn’t help it; her heart had little fuzzies dancing swiftly around it.  Lately, a few specific thoughts stuck in her brain, her attention fogged; she was constantly caught in a daze.  Perrie debated whether or not to brush it off, the choice was strained.  He couldn’t escape her mind.

Zayn Malik sat directly behind her during English class. Oh, how she was absolutely smitten with him, even if as far as interaction went, it was almost non-existent.  The only exception was when each student had to present a story in front of the class, the blonde haired beauty spaced out during most of her class readings, but somehow, his voice drew her back when it was his turn to present.  All the words, they rolled off his tongue so smoothly, who knew he could speak as beautifully as he wrote?

 Whenever it was time to pass up their assignments, Perrie would casually skim over the first few sentences in his essays, and studied how he wrote his last name.  She knew she was over her head, in high hopes that last name would one day be at the end of hers.  Today was no exception.

Like tradition, Mrs. Higgins’s entrance was everyone’s signal to sit down and shut up.  Her eyes scoped the room, before they shifted back down to the papers in front of her.

“Everyone, please pass your assignment forward,” she ordered, without another glance at the audience.

Perrie turned herself back to Zayn to collect his paper; he reached inside his bag and pulled out the sheet—to light up the blonde’s heart—a small smile tugged over onto his lips.  She couldn’t help but mirror his kind expression, curling his paper into her fingertips.  Facing her own paper, she noticed her name was nowhere on it.  Zayn’s assignment was quickly slipped under hers as Perrie’s hand moved swiftly with the pen to jot down her name, no matter how much it resembled the handwriting of a three year old that found a coloring book.  Up their papers went to the next student in front of her.  Her posture broke its formal standing; she slumped down in her chair in relief.  Another responsibility she didn’t have to stress over.

Mrs. Higgins took each stack of papers from the different rows, the last row being Perrie and Zayn’s, and coincidentally, her assignment was right on top.  Mrs. Higgins was just about to venture back to her desk, but her head tilted back to the homework, something had caught her eye, confusion tinted her face.

“Miss Edwards?” Mrs. Higgins called.  Perrie looked up, eyes intent to her teacher’s voice. Her chin lifted itself up off her palm, her fingers playfully entwined with the other hand’s, trying to figure out what could possibly be wrong with her paper.

“Yes, Mrs. Higgins? Is there something wrong?” she asked with a smooth tone.

“Your paper looks good, but I’m not sure I can give you credit,” her teacher explained.  Perrie’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Why not, Ma’am?” the blonde questioned one again, getting a breathy laugh from Mrs. Higgins, but also seemed a little uneasy.

“Because, your name isn’t Perrie Malik,” tumbled from her lips, she almost immediately sent Perrie sympathetic eyes for having to broadcast it to the whole room, which had perked up when receiving her words. A few minor eruptions of laughter broke out in the room.

Perrie froze there, mortified; her face had been deprived of its color, it matched a crisp white bed sheet. The same couldn’t be said for her eyes, stretched open, showing the rawness of her feelings—embarrassment. She slid back in her chair in attempt to mask herself from the rest of the class; her eyes were shielded by her palms.  The last thing the blue eyed beauty wanted to witness was her own slow, painful death. How could she let this secret slip out of her imagination? Must have been on impact, she had a few seconds to write down her name. Perrie Malik. No, that’s not her. At least after today, it’ll never be.