the boy who loved the moon «on hold»

six

Adjusting is never easy, especially when you take such drastic changes.

I wasn't used to waking up early in the morning, since I really didn't have anything to do at that time. Yet, Zayn thought otherwise. He was used to walking up in the morning and getting on with the day almost immediately, and he really didn't have any plans on changing that because of me.

There was also the sleeping arrangement. It wasn't like I missed my bed or room or parents as much, but the couch was definitely not good for my back. I had to alternate between sleeping on the floor or on the couch, which weren't exactly ideal, but would do for now.

I wasn't complaining though. Everything we seemed to go out to do was worth it. And we were just getting started.

"Where have you gone to? What have you seen?" Zayn wondered, walking from the kitchen to the living room and letting himself fall on the couch. He stretched out as best as he could, his limbs seeming even more endless than they already did. It wasn't that he was really tall or something of the sort, but he seemed so skinny and slim, his body just seemed longer because of it.

"Well, I've only ever been to the pub where we met and the places you've taken me. I've barely ever been out of Edinburgh, only once or twice to London," I scratched the back of my neck uncomfortably, feeling somewhat embarrassed and exposed. I'd never really talked to anyone about it, since I couldn't tell my parents and I had no friends. The people that barely knew me in high school disappeared to college after and left no word to me whatsoever -and I, honestly, made no effort to keep in touch.

"Nowhere else?" he confirms but still questions, hiding most of his amusement well.

I manage to shake my head, my cheeks burning slightly red as an awkward silence sets in. I know he's probably seen many things and has met tons of people here and there, so he surely must think I'm the most naive person in the entire planet.

In a way, I sort of looked up to him. He couldn't be over 22 and he had already done and seen so much, compared to me. I still didn't know if it was actual idolization or envy, but then again, there's a fine line between the two.

"It's really not that bad," he offered after spending some time in our silence. I couldn't help but glance discreetly at him, catching him deep in his thoughts. He was concentrated, his eyes staring directly ahead, his long fingers stroking at his scalp. "It actually makes this much easier and fun for me."

"Why for you?" I could feel my voice rise defensively, fully turning around to watch him sit up slightly, the corners of his mouth tilting upwards the slightest.

"Imagine having the opportunity to take away a man's blindness," he started slowly, as if testing the waters he was slipping into. He took a few seconds to let his words sink in, then finally looked at me, right in the eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm gonna do for you."

****

"C'mon, Morgan, we have to go!"

I quickly brushed my teeth and fixed my hair, huffing at the feel of the skirt against my thighs. We hadn't had time to look around the neighborhood for clothes or anything, forcing me to wear the same death trap for the last week. I could use a pair of Zayn's sweats around the apartment, but I had to wear the sequin skirt outside.

Making up my mind, I walked out of the bathroom with my head as high I could manage, posture straight. "Hey, Zayn?"

"Yeah?" he questioned, somewhat impatient. We both had pointed out that we were just getting to know each other and had decided that we would try to be comprehensive of the other, since we didn't really know how the other functioned on through everyday life.

"Could I please please borrow some jeans?" I nearly gritted out, always significantly embarrassed in front of him. I didn't think it'd get to a point where I was completely and fully comfortable around Zayn. I'll always be intimidated by how reserved and mysterious he seems.

To my surprise, Zayn let out a soft snicker, his mouth just barely showing a glimpse of a smirk. "Morgan, I don't think they'd fit you."

Oh no he didn't.

"Are you calling me fat?" I raised my eyebrows, my hands immediately going to my hips as I jutted them to my right. A scowl took over my features, indignation and pride washing over me like a wave.

"No, not necessarily," Zayn went on casually, "I'm just not sure you'll fit into them, with my legs being longer and more slender than yours."

Without any approval, I gripped his wrist with my hand and basically dragged him to his bedroom, high on determination -and yes, hope. For once, I'd like to see him eating his words up.

We stopped in front of the closet and I offered a hand forward. "Give me a pair of jeans," I demanded calmly, trying to play it as cool as possible.

"Morgan, really-"

"Give me a pair of jeans," I simply repeated, not letting my temper get the best of me. I needed to at least prove him wrong this once.

I saw Zayn hesitate for a second before pulling out some pants, probably knowing we were going nowhere until this happened. He set them on my hand without a word being said, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly waiting.

"What?" I spit out, not knowing why he is really still in the room.

"Go on, change," he signaled to me, still collected as always. He had got to be kidding.

"You really want me to change in front of you?" Abashed, I can just barely blubber it out. What is he even thinking?

"Well, Morgan, I think we both know I would've fucked you that first night we met if I was into you physically. But really, I'd like to think I don't like you that way. And, besides, you have nothing to be ashamed of, so just change."

Wow. Just wow. I don't think I had ever heard someone compliment and insult a person in just three sentences. Sort of contradicting himself -in this case- but still managing to slip just the right amount of flattery and offense to have one be confused.

He surprised me with every word that came out of his mouth, not joking.

Huffing out in exasperation, I tugged downward on my skirt, letting it fall to the floor before stepping out of it. I kicked off the sneakers Zayn had graciously lent me -not shedding a thought on why he had such little shoes laying around this time. Shoving my left leg and then my right inside the piece of clothing, I pulled the pants upwards all the way up my thighs and butt, easily buttoning them once they were in place. The pants were long on me, that's true, but only slightly clinging to my legs.

I couldn't help crossing my arms over my chest, a smug grin now defying Zayn's cool attitude. "You were saying?"

He only looked me up and down for a moment, his expression as blank as possible, before he stood straight again. "Fold them up and put the shoes on, we really have to go."

A/N: I imagine Zayn to be really outspoken and honest, but still kind and warm when he needs to. As Morgan is proud and cocky, but still curious, shy, and somewhat scared. Characters can be intricate as hell.

I wrote this a bit longer than intended, but I really thought this scene could go here. No worries, new adventure on the next chapter. I'm really sorry for taking forever, please don't give up on this, there's more coming.

Please vote and comment, it makes me feel like I'm actually doing something right when you do. And please, check out the trailer on the last update if you haven't.

That's probably it. Thank you for reading, I love you so much for being patient.

- andy .x