Best Friends (A Ziall Fanfic/BoyxBoy)

Chapter 6

^__________^

For a moment, my life was played in my head. It was like a slide show of everything I ever saw and experienced in my existence. It was in a fast forward motion but every event was vivid enough for me to recall.

The day I first went to school. The time I had my first bike. Those times when my mom and I spent most of the time cooking in the kitchen together. The times when my family went picnicking around Ireland whenever I got high grades at school. My 10th birthday where my very first crush, Harry Styles attended bringing me a little leprechaun statue. My first fight in 2nd grade with Louis Tomlinson causing me my very first detention. The day when Mr. Cowell farted when we’re alone inside the principal’s office because I hit Liam Payne’s head with a soccer ball. I can’t stop snickering as his face turned like a stop sign and how he made me swear I should never tell a soul about the whole thing. I, on the other hand, was a true devil. I went out texting everyone he bombed me with intolerable gases that I felt like dying. That caused me my fourteenth detention in just one month. The time when I got in Choir where we won the school’s Performer of the Year award seeing the skinny bitches in the Cheerios glare at us in envy. I loved seeing how their arrogant faces showed pitiful defeated expressions. That was epic! The time my dad bought me my very first guitar. It was my parents’ gift for me when we won the award. Those times when I play a song, everyone would sing along. The times when I sleep with my guitar like it was a teddy bear. When I cried so hard when my brother’s stupid cat scratched it.

The day my mom got sick. The times my brother and I used to visit her every day after school. Those times when I sneak out of my classes for I really wanted to be with my mother. The time when we learned mom had a Stage 4 Colon Cancer. The time when dad became so sad that my brother and I saw him cry for the first time. The days when dad tried literally everything just for my mom’s recovery.

The day my mom left us and passed away. When I sang her favorite song at her funeral. The nights when I cried so hard I’ll wake up feeling very weak and doesn’t have the mood to go to school. The days I just stayed home making my friends worry about me. That time when dad became an alcoholic. The nights when I hear him cry at the bathroom. Those times when he always held mom’s picture against his chest. The day he decided to let my aunt Sarah take care of me and my brother. The day I last saw my dad at the airport. His last words to me. “Take care, son. Grow and be a good boy. Make me and your mother proud of you. Go.”

The day we went to London where my aunt Sarah lived. My first day in my new high school when everybody seemed to looked me up and down like they’re judging me. That time when I felt like an outcast. Those days when I tried to make new friends but they rejected me. When they said it was because I’m Irish. That day when I learned being Irish or Asian or Black was a defect when you’re in high school. Those times when jocks shoved me to the lockers when I was blocking their way. When girls laugh at me because I was such a nerd and a loser. When everyone started to call me names. That time when I concluded life was just plain cruel and horrible. And that time was when I met Zayn.

When I met him, everything seemed to change. In fact, everything went from worse to better. I learned how to love staying here in London. Those times he drags me to the beach in the middle of our Science Class. Those days he treats me to Nando’s. When we spent our money buying junk foods and watching horror movies. The times he fell asleep leaning on my shoulder. The day I confessed to him I was gay. He said it was cool and I’m still his best friend no matter what. Those times when bullies punch me out of nowhere calling me ‘fag’ in my face. Zayn always comes to the rescue and threatens everyone that’ll hurt me will deserve the fair consequences. The times when he asks me if I’m okay or alright. The times when his gorgeous hazel orbs look at me with pure concern. The day he went to my house and brought me Hershey’s Kisses because he thought it was a good way to cheer someone up when they lost their Micahel Buble album. The days I play the guitar and we sang along to different tunes. The first time I heard “One Time” where I squealed like a girl making him think I was possessed or something. The times he hated Justin Bieber were epic. He looks cute when he’s angry or upset or annoyed (mostly by me). The time he made the school win the soccer championship and proudly presented me their humungous trophy. He came home with me so excitedly and went all night blabbering about the whole game. He sounded like a 3 year old getting his first toy car.

The days we argued. Sometimes I just ignored him at school while he did not. Instead, he sometimes leaves a note in the pages of my textbooks saying sorry. Of course, it always works out because of the funny drawings he put in with the notes. I loved how he knew me very much.

That one time he introduced me his girlfriend Jenny. I ignored him the whole month feeling awfully jealous. I thought he was choosing that bitch over me. I know, I became very possessive of him. That night when he came to apologize by taking me to a Justin Bieber concert.

The day I realized I was in love with my best friend. The days I tried to confess to him my feelings. The days I held back. The day of our graduation when I literally was to say I love him but suddenly Jenny came out of nowhere covering my beloved best friend with kisses. Since then, I never tried telling him about how I felt about him. I just thought it would flaw our friendship and I never wanted that to happen.

And now, there’s no reason to ever continue pursuing my confession. Even if I had the guts to tell him, it was already too late. He hates me! He doesn’t want me. So why continue, right?

So, maybe it was my time to die and be with my mother again. I had no purpose on living anymore so maybe death was the only escape I had to somehow feel relief again. It’s the only way.

I clutched my fists while I prepared my body for the approaching contact.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a pair of arms tackled me down to the ground. The car raced just inches away from me. I dodged it. I have been saved!

My savior and I were still on the ground. I was still trembling with shock as I fathom what the heck did just happen. I was about to be crushed by a dashing car and I, absent-mindedly, am not aware of it at all! Thanks to this Good Samaritan I am breathing still. Wait. Who is this hero? I got on my knees turning to face my savior. I was about to thank whoever it was but then he wrapped his arms around me almost immediately. He embraced me which was an odd action for him to do for I don’t even know him—wait!

His cologne!

The smell of his cologne.

It’s familiar.

That fragrance!

That same fragrance I always craved to take in.

It’s…it’s…it’s him!

My love!

My life.

Zayn.

He saved me.

I was crying again as thoughts about the whole thing engulfed my mind.

^__________^