Break These Walls

chapter two

this is you're writer aka, admin, whatever the hell you call it person. instead of putting zouis for each chapter im simply going to use my photos as some type of "issues" song. they're a amazing band btw. saw them open for all time low and DAMN THEY SCREAM LIKE THE ACCENTS AND SHIT AND GOSH MICHAEL JUST FRIGGIN SCREAM ME TO SLEEP LIKE JUST MARRY ME. I'm sorry I'm like six I need to stop. aha. okay on with the chapter.

advice: don't worry so much about updating all the time. you're readers should learn to understand that you won't always be updating, especially if there's a lot of bullshit going on.

quote: "you're body isn't you, your soul is you and they can never cut into your soul."

enjoy the chapter

:-)

(-) zayn

"Remember the plan babe."

The two boys shuffled down the street, two pale and full bottles of spray paint in their hands and four bottles of beer in the other. the curly one wore a dark suit, his chocolate colored locks pulled back into a quiff. he stood next to a boy that was equally just as handsome. "what did i say about calling me babe?" harry murmured, wrapping an arm around his mate's waist.

"let's just finish the job before we get caught, i can't stand another month of community service." the difference between the two. Besides their facial features, one held a carefree look and the other was guarded, almost stone, like a robot.

as the two walked near the empty canvas at the back of the local Walmart. "saw you having a stare contest with that blue eyed fellow." harry couldn't help but smirk as zayn tensed up, removing the coat on his suit before beginning to spray.

he didn't want to mention any of it at the moment. the idea of even locking eyes with the silly boy made him cringe. he almost allowed someone to see his emotions through the dept of his hazel colored eyes. which is why he kept shades, everyone could tell how he felt. without those glasses, zayn felt,

exposed.

"he's got a nice bum." Harry complimented.

the silence was scary quiet. the emotions that went through zayn were ignored like the comments his best friend had made. the graffiti artist didn't give two shits about the blue eyed beauty from the afternoon, he didn't enjoy being stared at. although, he did have nice bum zayn would never admit it aloud.

the curly haired boy stared over at the four beer bottles, a disappointed look in his eyes. sad thing was, harry didn't drink. but zayn did.

the things that had happened in the past four years were hard for both twenty one year olds to handle themselves and they never talked about them, never mentioned them. why? because they were both enable to talk about their feelings. what happened to the quote 'best friends tell each other everything.' that quote died along time ago. for everyone.

everything

and the two of them. what were they?

harry believed that he was just a boy who wanted to live without a weight on his shoulders.

zayn believed.. he believed in nothing. he remembered the believing was not worth his time, that he should only just focus on doing bad. bad. all types of bad.

-

the graffiti turned out good, it was alright. to Harry it was beautiful to be honest, he didn't understand why Zayn was so insecure about it. "done." the young curled haired boy muttered right after zayn, making his own type of art. a silver penis.