Long Lost and Refound - A Zayn Malik Story

Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - Long Lost and Refound

Saturday, February 9, 2009

Zayn's POV

It was a quiet evening in my house, with the girls out and Mum doing some grocery shopping. Doniya was upstairs in her room, as usual. The telly was set to a low hum. I watched as Avery's lips formed words, words which I wasn't listening to. Her fingers absentmindedly played with my hair in her lap, watching me as she talked.

"...my whole life. It's strange. I don't know any of my neighbours, but they've been my neighbours for sixteen years. I just... I'd always wanted to leave, but I never actually did. Only the few times when my parents kicked me out. It's like... I only ever do something if it's initiated by them, you know?"

I stretched out my legs, once again relaxing them against the comfortable couch I was splayed across. I took the hand on my chest and tugged slightly on the fingers. 

"I think we've talked enough about your family, love."

She sighed, relaxing. I hadn't realized how tensed she was until now. "I suppose we have," she said, eyes gazing down at me intensely. I searched her face, my mind wandering almost instantly. Her hair was swept over to one shoulder, her collarbones exposed by the wide neck of my sweatshirt. My gaze swept over her face, taking in the pale skin and the petite nose. I really liked her nose. It was small and shapely, just slightly turned up at the tip. Our eyes locked and once again I was thrown off by the beauty of her eyes. I was interrupted by another thought, though.

"You don't wear makeup," I stated bluntly. Her eyes widened and then cast down shyly, her cheeks bursting into flame. I tugged on her fingers again, shaking my head. 

Her eyes fixated on me again. "No, it's not bad. Just... I don't know many girls who do that."

She shrugged, fingers tugging on my hair. "I just don't see the point. I've never really had anyone to impress and... I don't know how to explain it. I guess... I see other girls who always wear makeup, and they... they just don't see how pretty they are. It's like the stuff they put on their face makes them feel like, I don't know, they're not pretty enough to walk around without it?" Her eyes unfocused, staring blankly at the telly. "My parents do so much to me, I do so much to me, I just feel like I don't even want to go there. I feel like I'm fine the way I am." Her eyes fell back down to me. "I just own one tube of lip gloss, only because I like it. It's not like I can afford much more, anyways."

I gaped at her, feeling something stirring inside of me. For someone with such a harsh life, she was so grounded. When I think about it, I'd be extremely insecure if I was a girl. And now that I think back, I don't think I'd met a single girl who actually believed that they were pretty. I bit my lip, trying to hold myself together. 

I could sense her uneasiness growing, probably wondering if she'd said the wrong thing. I gathered myself and took a deep breath, linking my fingers with hers and pressing them against my chest.

"What's your favourite feature about yourself?" I asked softly. She looked like she was about to answer, but then frowned and closed her mouth. She looked up at the telly again, biting her lip. I watched as her chin jutted out, making her neck look longer and her jaw more defined from my angle. She swallowed and her throat bobbed. It surprised me how nice it looked when she did that. She looked back down at me, still frowning.

"I don't believe I have one," she said slowly, testing the words. "I think... I think all my different features together make me look as I do." I raised my eyebrows, once again blown away by her answer. "What's... what's your favourite feature about me?" she asked shyly, her eyes flickering away.