Heartstrings ➳ z.m.

six - skylar

Chapter Six – Skylar

            “Watch out,” I mumbled, pushing past Harry and Niall and taking a bobby pin out of my hair. I had changed when I had gotten home, which included letting my hair down (the reasoning behind that was definitely not because Louis said he liked my hair down, swear), and now I was really glad that I had decided to.

            Really came in handy when I needed to pick a lock, like now.

            “Is it unlocked yet?” Harry hissed, and I grunted at him, once again shoving his head of curly hair out of my way.

            It wasn’t even his apartment. From my understanding, it was Liam and Zayn’s—the boys were just over often because Liam was such a neat freak, and therefore his place was always the cleanest—and technically, it wasn’t even theirs, since they made no payments on it. Some weird agreement with management to ‘break Zayn out of his shell’ because ‘this little act he has going on is getting really old, understand boys?’.

            “Open!” Niall announced as soon as he heard the distinctive click of the lock, and I stood up, spinning around to make them all take a step back.

            “Let’s just go one at a time, guys.” I didn’t want to overwhelm him, in case he became violent.

            Because he seemed awfully close to having a breakdown earlier, and Louis had even confirmed that he’d never reacted that way before.

            (“Maybe he just doesn’t like you,” Harry had hummed at me, and I had responded with, “And maybe you’re annoying,” before promptly smacking him. Not hard, but just enough force to wipe that dimpled smirk from his face.)

            “Something tells me Sky’s right,” Louis started, and though I should’ve been worrying about Zayn a little more, I was mentally having a party in my head.

            Louis and I were on nickname-level now. So that made him ‘Lou’ to me now, right?

            “Well who’s going to go in?” Liam spoke up, and I bit my lip. Now that the door was actually unlocked, all anticipation had dissipated from the boys’ faces, and they all looked a bit nervous.

            Well, I certainly didn’t want to go first. No way. It already seemed like Zayn hated me.

            I didn’t want to be in a room alone with him.

            “You want to go, Skylar?”

            It was Louis asking, and he moved so close to me that I could feel his breath fan across my cheeks. I tried not to blush, but it was nearly impossible, and before I could stop myself I was opening the door to Zayn’s room and slipping in, closing it behind me.

            I locked it for good measure, in case Curly decided to come in, or something. And then I unlocked it, in case Louis decided to peep in. And then I told myself that I didn’t like Louis.

            So I locked it again. And then unlocked it, just in case Zayn decided to murder me, and I needed a quick getaway.

            When I finally turned around, I wasn’t too surprised with what lay before me. Zayn didn’t seem to be the type of person to have an overly-decorated room, and my assumptions were correct. He had a dresser, a desk (filled with a few art supplies), an armoire with a television that looked like it hadn’t been turned on in ages, and a bed.

            It was the most basic room.

            His walls were grey.

            Everything about Zayn seemed to scream ‘grey’. He was just so… blank.

            I sighed, scrubbing my hands through my hair and turned to look at the crumbled mass of boy that lied upon the bed.

            Soft, almost silent snores tumbled from his mouth, and I edged closer, peeling his duvet back slightly.

            His eyes were puffed and red, and you could see dried tear tracks smeared across his cheeks. He was still fully clothed.

            I decided that I could at least remove his socks and shoes for him (that’s probably the most uncomfortable thing to sleep in) and as I was trying to figure out where to put them, I spotted a pair of folded shorts and matching shirt on his dresser.

            Those must’ve been his pajamas.

            I figured that there was really no harm in changing him, and he’d probably be very thankful in the morning to have at least one thing of his normal schedule the same. So I waltzed over and grabbed the items, before coming back to his bed.

            It turned out that Zayn’s a very heavy sleeper. He gave me no trouble at all as I wiggled the hoodie from him, and he didn’t even stir as I took off the long sleeve shirt next, and ogled his bare chest and tattoos. (Why did he even have tattoos if he couldn’t even communicate?). I slid his night-shirt onto him, and moved down to his jeans next, carefully undoing the button and unzipping the zipper.

            I supposed that I should’ve been embarrassed by this, being so close to Zayn’s intimate areas, but it didn’t even phase me, and I had his jeans down to his knees before the door creaked open.

            I froze.

            I really should’ve left it locked.

            Eyes wide, I turned to see a dropped jaw owned by a head of blonde hair staring back at me.

            “Uh,” Niall fumbled. His stare dropped to my hands, which were still secured around the hem of Zayn’s jeans. “Um…” He met my gaze again, and gulped. “Your eyes are a really pretty blue.”

            And then he shut the door.

            I groaned.

            Smooth.

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I don't know if you noticed, but all of my chapters have a purpose. Except this one. It was more of a filler, and it sucks, I'm sorry.

I'll try to post tomorrow, but it might not be until Tuesday.