Fake Tattoos • Ziall

Chapter 5

Anybody know who Banksy is? bc like someone fangirl with me over him bc i love his work a lot tbh inspiration of this chapter kinda comes from some documentary I watched about him and this guy who video tapes everything so in a way Zayn is Banksy and Niall is the other guy(I can't remember his name for the life of me whoops)

Short update but whatever deal with it.

Love you all, stay weird. Xx

~

Niall slouched elegantly, leaning on the brick wall behind him. I was hunched over like a vulture as I shook another spray can and used it.

Niall insisted we traded phone numbers earlier on in the week. "Incase I get inspiration," he said, "I want to be there when you start till you finish."

So here we are, one a.m. on a Thursday night in an alley way. I honestly just needed a break from my parents, my home, my life. I called him, and was surprised he even picked up, but in a way I was relieved.

Click

I was brought out of my thoughts by Niall taking another picture. I shook my head, pressing down on the can and creating the color spray that stuck to the brick. Every now and then I would hear the quiet click of his camera as I worked. Nothing too extraordinary, just something to get my mind off things for a few minutes.

Once I had finished, I stood back and admired the drying paint. Niall stood next to me and snapped a picture of the finished work, grinning at the screen of the camera.

"You cease to amaze me, Zayn." I rolled my eyes, taking my mask off and stuffing it in my bag. Niall took off his that I gave him and handed it back to me. I stuffed it in the bag too. I packed up all the cans I left out, zipping it shut. I slung the backpack over one of my shoulders, turning to look at Niall.

"Look at this one, it's my favorite so far." He shoved his camera in my direction, trying to get me to look. I took the camera from him and looked at it. It was a picture of me, obviously, but what caught me off guard was the way it was taken.

It's obvious Niall has a thing for photography, living through his camera by taking pictures of everything, but I didn't know they were this good.

The orange glow of the streetlight shined in the background, my eyes almost an ember color because of it. My hair was flopped on my forehead. I had small specks of paint dusted on my mask, something I had never noticed before. The main focus was my face, deep in concentration, but in the lower corner you could just barely make out my hand with a can spraying purple out in a fine mist onto the bricks. Over all, the picture was breathtakingly beautiful.

"Wow," I breathed, unable to form words. Even with having little to no self-esteem, I could still admit I looked alright in the picture.

"Right? I like the lighting and how the-" I zoned out as he babbled on, just staring at the picture.

"Can I get a copy of that?" I blurted, not caring if I cut him off.

"Yeah, sure thing, mate!" I handed him his camera back, wanting to see more but I didn't want to be nosy.

"We should get going," I suggested, "before someone catches us." Niall nodded, following me out of the alley and down the street. We walked in silence for a ways before Niall decided to speak up.

"Why doesn't anybody at school like you?" His voice was soft, timid, shy, afraid.

I shrugged, not really having a definite answer, but I had a few ideas. So I told him.

"I'm Muslim, small, weird, gay, always in the art room, quiet. I guess I'm just used to people walking all over me though. I don't really stand up for myself if you haven't noticed." I gestured to the bruises on my arms. He briefly glanced at them, then back at my face.

"I don't understand why that gives them the right to do this to you. I know you aren't a bad person, you're just treated badly by bad people. I think you deserve the world, Zayn."

I stopped walking, unable to take another step. Tears prickled in my eyes. That's the nicest thing anyone has really ever said to me. Niall stood in front of me, rubbing the pad of his thumb across my cheek.

"I really mean it, you don't deserve this shit life. You deserve to smile, to be happy, to not get hit, to have your art in a museum, to be able to travel the world. You deserve it all, because you are a good person. And it sucks that good people have to suffer when bad people get to live their lives as if everything is no big deal. Zayn, please stop crying, I'm just telling you the truth."

Niall was staring into my watery eyes, wiping at my cheeks when a new tears rolled down. I sniffed and blinked. I wanted to believe him, part of me did, but the other part was screaming at me saying this was wrong, that he didn't mean any of it. He was just trying to hurt me by making me vulnerable and then leave me.

"Say something, please?" Niall begged, his eyes slightly watery now.

"Thank you," I choked, surging forward and pressing my face to his shoulder and wrapping my arms around him in a tight hug.