The Way It Is ! ** Ziam

Part 13

Four times. Liam knocks on his door four times that night. Every single fucking time Zayn is about to finally sleep, finally get a little break from the world, the knocking starts again. He's murderous, at this point. At first he just felt sick to his stomach, listening to Liam gently knock on his door and call his name. And then he started getting annoyed when Liam started yelling at him through the door. After the last round of "Zayn, please, just… just an—answer the door, please, just talk to me. Just talk to me, I need you to just…" he swore to himself that he would answer the next time.

So he gets out of bed, fire burning in his veins, and throws open the door. The security guy on the other side looks mildly surprised. Zayn recognizes him instantly. Jordan, or Jeff, or Jason, or something with a J. The only distinguishing thing about him is the fact that he's one of the only bodyguards Liam ever lets accompany him when he goes out alone. In fact, he's the one Liam usually requests, though Zayn has no idea why. He's never really had a decent conversation with the guy.

"Can I help you?" Zayn asks, going from pissed to surprised, defensive, and just a little worried, all in about ten seconds.

"Come with me, kid," Jake/Jack/Jesse says.

Zayn blinks at him. "Um, mind telling me where to, first?"

The guy sighs at him. "I'm not having this conversation in the hallway where anyone could be listening in," he says pointedly. "And I don't have time for you to invite me in for tea, okay? So get your shoes and come on."

Zayn chews the inside of his lip. "It's five-thirty in the morning."

"I'm aware. Get. Your. Shoes."

He considers the fact that he may very well be getting kidnapped, but this guy is about twice Zayn's size (maybe more), he's tired, and right now getting kidnapped seems a lot easier than putting up a fight. So he gets his shoes and finds his room key and steps into the hallway. Once he's locked his door, J— the security guy starts walking, leading him down the hall.

Zayn jogs after him, and he holds the door open before continuing briskly down the back stairwell. "I have to warn you not to be alarmed, a'right?"

"Alarmed about what?" Zayn demands. He's more than a little breathless from hurrying down the stairs, and they still have about three flights before they get to the bottom.

"I should tell you in the car," the guy says. "That might make the blow easier. When you're sitting down."

Something breaks and sinks inside him. He's been treated like this before, but it was by family members. Ones who didn't want to give him unpleasant information until they thought he could handle it. "What happened? To who? Tell me."

"Nobody's dead, if that's what you're worried about," he gets (insensitively) in response. "And I said I'll tell ya in the car, didn't I?"

When they get to the bottom of the stairs, the door leading outside is held out for him. The cool air makes his too-hot skin tingle, and he takes burning gulps of breath, trying to remind his lungs that he's not dying, even though those stairs made him feel like he was.

There's a car waiting just outside; sleek, black and indistinguishable, it's the typical car they use when they want to get around a city without being noticed or tailed or photographed. The back door is opened for him, and Zayn figures that if he is getting kidnapped, at least his kidnappers are courteous. And who said chivalry was dead, anyway?

Jonathan (Zayn decides that's the body guards name, and he will continue to refer to him as that until told otherwise) takes the other window seat in the back. He doesn't do up his seatbelt, the way Zayn does, before he leans forward and tells the driver, "Back to the hospital."