A Dance With Death

|| Chapter 1 - Choices ||

I march back and forth in the room, unsure of what to do. I rub my palms as I fight with my inner self, my mind buzzing with questions. I have doubts about my own decision-making ability. I haven't been really great when it came to choosing one thing over the other. I generally end up making a choice that I later regret. And I have paid the price for one such mistake.

"I'm not doing this. I can't do this," I say to no one in particular, shaking my head. I look outside the window of my room. I have to admit, the eighteenth floor of an apartment in London gives a pretty good view. And it is quite peaceful too.

"Come on Zayn, accept it. The whole world wants you to do it," I hear someone say behind me. I turn around to find Perrie standing against the wall, her arms folded. "And somewhere deep inside," she says as she comes closer to me, "Even you want to do it." She shakes a finger at me, right under my chin.

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap, removing her hand. "You know how much I don't want to go back to that life. So I won't do it."

"Why won't you 'do' it, Zayn?" She gives a smug smile that disappears as quickly as it had appeared.

I give a fake laugh at her ridiculous innuendo. "You're too funny for an old lady," I say.

She scowls at my remark. "And you're too childish for an old man," she states, mimicking my tone. "Besides, I am not old. Nobody can ever guess my age."

"Oh really? Is that because of the slight wrinkles that you have on your pretty face?"

She pushes me by my arm. "Hey! I am barely thirty!"

I look at her. Her short blond hair is dyed green at the ends and falls on her shoulder in wavy locks. She's dressed in a black tank top with jeans. Her face barely changed over the years, even after everything that happened. She never let any problem affect her. I, on the other hand, look like an oaf who doesn't have any idea about what to look like in front of people. I lost interest in fashion a long time ago.

I just sigh and shake my head. "Talk to me all you want. You won't be able to persuade me."

"Who says I'm about to persuade you. I'm gonna force you if you don't accept," she says in a plain manner and sits down on the bed.

"Then I'll try not to be forced into doing things," I say as I sit next to her, giving her a challenging look. She responds by frowning at me.

"Come on Zayn!" she says as she nudges me by her elbow. "It's just a song."

It's funny how she says it's just 'a song'. It's the song. It's the song which will make me sing again, after eight years. It's the song that will bring One Direction back together, or whatever is left of it. It's something that would change a lot of things in the near future. It can bring complications, as to what will happen next with the boys and me. Louis came up with the idea of the song. I don't know what possessed him to take this decision.

"It's not just a song, you know that," I say, looking at her. "We're supposed to sing about Niall. You tell me, where the hell will I get the strength to do that? I mean. I just..." I sigh again. Thinking about this makes me sad. I don't know whether I would even be able to sing without breaking down.

"For the love of God!" she raises her voice, making me jump. "I'm just tired of your whining. It's always 'I can't' or 'I won't'. Niall deserves a tribute. And you guys just won't give him one. You just think about yourself. About how you feel bad, about how you can't handle it, about how you don't have the strength. Ever wondered how Niall would've felt about it? Would he want this for all of you? Would he want you guys to feel miserable for the rest of your lives? Think about all the hearts that were broken that time. Couldn't you do something for them, at least?"