|| Summer 2010||
Alexandria Fleming:
"Zayn, what are you still doing in bed?"
"What do you mean? Why are even in here? It's early, let me sleep," Zayn said in a too well rehearsed sleepy tone.
"Zayn, you're supposed to be leaving in like half an hour."
"No," he responded without so much as looking at me. Instead, he picked up one of his pillows and put it over his head. I immediately removed it and threw it to the floor.
"Why not? You've been looking forward to this day for the past year since you said that you were going to audition."
"Alexandria please, let me sleep. All I really wanted was to hear that I can sing from someone other than you, and I don't care if anyone thinks I'm good anymore. I believe you now, so just go home and let me sleep."
"You have to get up! You know you want this. You know you want to do this. You're not fooling anybody."
"And what makes you think that," he asked with what seemed to be confusion and annoyance combined in one.
"I know you. And I know that you are just scared, because you don't want anyone to tell you that you're not good enough, but you need to understand that one person, or even a couple few people, won't change the fact that you're actually really good. Even if somebody does tell you that you're not good enough, you need to ignore it, because you are, and they're opinion is irrelevant."
"I am not scared," but he is. I know that he is, he just doesn't want to admit it. It's not like Zayn to admit when he's scared. But I know him well enough to know what he's trying to hide from the world. And right now, he's trying to hide the fact that he's scared and worried. He's trying to hide his talents from the world and I won't let that happen. What are best friends for, if not to help one another when the other is afraid to do what they are destined to?
"Then prove it." I said to him, but he just shook his head and pulled the covers over his head again. "Fine, but don't come crawling to me when you figure out that you really wanted to do this."
I left his room and walked over to the kitchen where Trisha was preparing breakfast for the rest of the household as she was about to leave with Zayn. She thought so at least.
"Alexandria, sweetie, how's Zayn doing in there? Is he ready to go?"
"Actually Trisha, he's still in bed. He 'does not' want to go. I've already tried to get him out of bed, but I'm afraid even I can't do that this time. You might want to give it a go; I'm going to head home."
Ξ――――――――――Ξ
That was the last day I saw Zayn. Trisha managed to get him up and out the door. It all happened in a hurry. By the time he was up and ready, he was already running late. He had no time to stop by my house, or at least that's what he said over the phone a few minutes before his audition. I told him to keep calm and that he would do great. He was still worried, but by the end of the day, I was getting a Skype call from him. He told me that my previous words had helped a lot.
That night he was ecstatic, and I was unfortunately packing up to go to America for the remaining months of summer. My parents thought that it would be a good idea to go "home" to visit some family members. Funny that they use the word home so fondly; America is the great, but home is not there anymore, not for me at least. They say home is where the heart is, which is super cliché and annoyingly stupid, but it is still very true. And well, home is wherever my best friend is. Home is in Bradford.
