Hidden Beneath Brown Eyes (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Chapter 66 - Fond Memories

"Ada? Ada, come on. Please come out. I'm sorry, okay!" Zayn pleaded as he gently knocked on the bathroom door.

I tuned out his gravelling and continuous apologies as I leaned against the other side of the door, the cold temperature of the wood against my back making me shiver slightly. I didn't know why I was so angry, or more like, I didn't know what had set me off. By this point, I was just angry at everything, and I knew that. So it was now just a game of pinpointing exactly what it was that had triggered this particular episode.

Everything had been going so well, if you consider cheating "going well" - if you consider cheating in front of my son to be "going well". The more that I thought about it, the more I realized that it was Jack himself that had set me off - and it wasn't in the sense that I was angry at him - it was in the sense that his presence had brought me to my senses.

Jack's presence in the room had shaken me from whatever trance Zayn had me under, and my sensible side was angry at myself for letting things go as far as they did. Upon "waking up", so to speak, my brain had realized what game my heart was playing, and it turned into an "anything you can do, I can do better" kind of situation. It prompted my brain to display the image of Liam's bloodied hand and shattered expression as he lay on the floor of Zayn's house five years earlier. My brain was reminding me why I was in this position to begin with, because of my own cowardess and selfishness.

Jack was my knight in shining armor. He was living proof that I wasn't entirely a screw-up. He was the light of my life, and the reason why I got out of bed every morning. He saw me always as the person that I wanted to be, rather than who I actually was, and that motivated me to become that person. So when I found myself sinking back down to my teenage self right in front of him, it made me want nothing more than to give myself a good slap in the face.

What seemed like an hour, was probably only a few minutes at the most, as I tuned back into my surroundings. Zayn's knocking on the door had gone from timid to frantic, and so had his speech.

"Ada, seriously, this isn't funny. Open the door." The words themselves sounded demanding, but the way that he said them was more panicked than anything. It was then that I realized that I'd been sitting in the locked bathroom, for who knows how long, without uttering a single word. He was probably terrified that I was unconscious, or something of that nature.

I could have easily not said a word and just let him suffer, and I'll admit that I was tempted, but the adult in me quickly repremanded my inner teenager for thinking that way. I looked to the mirror on my right and leaned over the counter, running my fingers through my hair and wiping away some smeared eyeliner with my pinky finger.

I didn't know what I was going to say to him to make this whole thing blow over, but I couldn't stay locked in the bathroom forever. I backed away from the mirror slowly and took a deep breath before swinging the door open. There, Zayn stood, with his fist balled up and ready to hit the door again, and his pure black pupils so big they nearly blocked out his golden brown irises.

"Is Jack still asleep?" I asked nonchalantly, as it was the first thing that came to my mind. Zayn was nothing short of surprised by off topic question. It was obvious by the way his jaw hung slightly open and his fingers moved, nervously, in and out of a fist.

"What?" he replied in nearly a low growl. His tone was laced with confusion, and unfortunately for him, I wouldn't give anything to satisfy it.

"Is. Jack. Asleep?" I repeated, emphasizing every word strongly.

He was a little taken back by my demanding tone, but if there was one thing Zayn was good at, it was keeping his emotions in check. Almost instantly, he wiped his expression clean, starting fresh with a blank face.