Long Lost and Refound - A Zayn Malik Story

Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - Long Lost and Refound

Saturday, January 28, 2009

Avery's POV

I handed the last customer their change and bade them goodbye, seeing them out of the cafe. Rhonda and Mark had left about twenty minutes ago. I'd offered to close the place so that they'd get some alone time. Zayn was still sitting in the corner at our table. I knew he was keeping an eye on me.

What happened at the library bathroom, I have no idea how it came about. I was walking to Henrietta's, but I found myself at the library instead. So many thoughts and emotions were overwhelming me; I needed some form of release. I'd never cut myself in a public place before, but then again I don't understand many of my actions today.

Everything after the third cut was slow and hazy, almost as though it was happening underwater. I vaguely remembered Zayn finding me, yelling at me to stay awake. The next solid memory was after someone had slapped me, someone who I now presumed to be Mark. I hadn't really wanted to be near Zayn, but his concern and worry seemed so genuine, I found myself melting into his care. When he sang for me, I almost lost myself. His voice was so beautiful, and the song almost perfectly conveyed what he wanted to tell me.

I'm sorry. I might destroy everything within reach, but I don't want to give up on our friendship. How about we take care of each other?

I locked the front door of the cafe and started pulling the curtains across the glass walls, hiding the inside of the cafe from the streets. I heard Zayn get up from the couch and stretch, groaning. I glanced over at him as his arms dropped.

"Thanks for staying, Zayn," I said tiredly, turning and leaning against the curtained window as Zayn came over to me.

"No problem," he said, yawning. He leaned against the curtained window beside me. I leaned my head onto his shoulder, sighing. "Hey," he said, looking down at me. "Are you okay? You look a little pale."

I looked back up at him, ignoring the slight light-headedness I actually was feeling. "Yeah, just tired."

"I don't believe you. You should get to a doctor."

"No, Zayn, really. I'm just tired. It's been a long day."

He looked at me for a long moment then stepped away. "Then sit down," he demanded, guiding me onto a couch against an uncovered window. I didn't bother to retaliate and just sank onto the couch, tucking my legs under me and leaning against the arm. I watched tiredly while Zayn went into the back behind the curtain, but I wasn't really focused on him. The dimmed lighting was casting a warm glow, almost indirectly loosening my muscles. My mind became clouded, once again, with thoughts of Zayn. Of what it would be like to hold him, to run my fingers through his hair, to have him carry me up to his room and sing me to sleep... I knew I shouldn't be having these thoughts, but they gave me a warm feeling, a feeling I didn't want to lose. I hadn't known many boys in my life, mostly just partners for projects. I kept telling myself that these thoughts were just a result of the speed of our friendship, that I thought that something was happening beneath the surface because I'd never developed a friendship at this pace before. Still, I couldn't get rid of these thoughts no matter how hard I tried. They'd died down for a while a couple of days after that night on his porch, but Zayn finding me in the bathroom today and just holding me, that just unleashed them. When he sang to me... I didn't want him to stop.

Zayn came back with two steaming paper cups and sat down beside me. I sat up. "Here," he said, handing me my cup. The aroma of hot chocolate wafted up to me. I looked over at him. "Didn't want you to stay up too late, so I went classic."

"Thanks," I said, smiling appreciatively. He shrugged, blowing into the hole in the plastic top of his cup.

"You scared me today," he said quietly, keeping his eyes on his cup. My jaw hung loose from surprise for a second, but I quickly got over it and turned away. My face flushed hot and I let my hair fall and cover my cheek.