clarity // zayn malik fanfiction

[ ten ]

I was standing in a large room, furnished only by a table, behind which stood Zayn and Ralph. Why they were together, I didn't know. I stood there, helpless, as Ralph told Zayn about the day he first killed someone. He told him how I had stood, watching as he'd confronted his worst tormentor. Watching as he killed the boy, as he laughed.

He told Zayn about how I'd left him the day before the incident, unable to deal with the teasing and bullying we'd both endured. How I was unable to deal with anything. How I always ran away.

Zayn's expression changed and he looked straight at me, disgusted.

"You're a coward," he told me. I shook my head, tears welling in my eyes.

"I'm not," I murmured as I backed away from him.

"You are," he insisted, "and I don't like cowards," He advanced towards me, laughing. Behind him, I could see Ralph laughing too.

"No! I'm not a coward - I j-just..." I took another step back and hit my head off the wall. I let out a strangled sob and fell against the wall. Zayn saw the tears on my cheeks and laughed again.

"You just what, Olivia?" he said, "Just what?" This wasn't right. I'd never heard Zayn call me Olivia in his life.

I watched as Zayn disappeared, only to be replaced by Mia. What?

"Oh my god, pull yourself together!" she said.

"Stop it!" I begged, "Stop!" She shook her head and laughed.

"What? Are you scared of us realising what a monster you are? Don't worry; we already know,"

-

"No... No, no, no!" I sat up, wiping the tears from my face. "It was just a dream, it was just a dream," I moved from the bed towards the dressing gown hung on my door.

I rubbed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. I padded along the hallway into the kitchen, being careful not to wake Mia or Liam. Thoughts of the nightmare invaded my head. It'd never changed before.

Never.

It was always the same thing until tonight. For a year, I'd been sleeping badly, plagued by visions of Aiden's death. But why has it changed?

I shivered at the blast of fresh air that had blown through the window. I frowned. Why the hell is the window open? I pulled it shut and tugged my dressing gown closed. As I walked into the kitchen, I checked the time; it was 5:57am. There was no point going back to sleep now.

I grabbed two pieces of toast and shoved them into the toaster. I went to sit down in the living room.

Whilst I waited for the toast to warm up, I turned the tv on to catch the start of the six o'clock news.

"The headlines today in London; The Prime Minister makes more budget cuts, fatal car accident on the M3 and a million pound painting goes missing from the Tate Museum"

I sat up again, recognising the name of the museum. Is that where... I shook my head. Ralph couldn't possibly know about that.

"Firstly, over to Linda near the Tate to find out exactly what has been stolen,"

"Thank you, John. Now I can tell you one of Salvador Dali's paintings has been stolen. Not only has a painting been stolen, the guards on duty have been killed and the security system was disabled. I'll be back with an update in half an hour. Back to you John,"

I turned the tv off. Was it possible? He must have done it. Why else would anyone want to leave several other million pound paintings behind? I groaned into my hands and rubbed my eyes.

"Hey - you okay, Liv?" Mia said behind me, "You're up early, aren't you?"

I turned to her, "Bad dream again," She nodded sympathetically and began pulling on a pair of trainers. I glanced at the joggers and tank top she was wearing.

"You're going to the gym?"

"Yeah... I feel like I've been eating really badly recently and I-I just want to lose a bit of weight," She smiled at me feebly. Whilst Mia wasn't the skinniest girl out there, she wasn't that overweight. She couldn't be more than 170 pounds at five foot six.

"Well you don't need to lose that much - I think being healthy is better than being stick thin," I told her, "None of your friends put you up to this, right?"

"No! I want to get healthier - if I keep eating the way I do, I'm only going to get heavier," she said and stood up. "I've gotta go, but thanks for looking out for me," As she walked out of the room, I smiled.

Maybe I could take a leaf out of Mia's book and do something I needed to do. Which was going to talk to Zayn. I knew I'd overreacted a little, but why couldn't he understand the fact that I wasn't ready to talk about this yet? It annoyed me how he couldn't take no for an answer - it was like he had to know everything about me.

I sat there for a few minutes, feeling like I'd forgotten something important. What am I missing? At that moment, my stomach grumbled. The toast!

I hurried into the kitchen to find the toast cold and slightly burnt. Pulling the toast out of the toaster, I wondered about how I would talk to Zayn about our argument.

*******

Five hours later, I pulled out my phone and texted Zayn.

'I'm outside, are you in?' The lights were on in the windows as it was getting dark; even at midday the weather was dull and grey. I shivered in my coat and hoped to God he was inside.

'Yeah... Why?'

'Are you still mad at me?'

'Just open the goddamn door, I'm bloody freezing!'

"Hey! Liv?" I looked up to see Zayn in front of me, wearing a pair of joggers and a loose t-shirt.

"Oh, hi!" I replied, running a hand through my hair, "Um, I didn't wake you up did I?"

"Nah, I'm usually up by this time," He stepped back inside and I followed him into the warmth.

"Come on up. Louis got back late last night and I'm pretty sure he's hung over, so you might want to keep the noise down a little," I nodded as we stepped into his room. This time, there were a few paintings hung on the wall and the easel in the corner was covered in wet paint.

"You painted all of these?" I asked, "They're amazing," I took note of his careful brushwork.

"Yeah. Is that surprising?" he asked sharply. Seeing my expression, he sighed, "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that,"

"It's okay, I think we've both said things we shouldn't have,"

"Really? Are you apologising to me? I'm the one who should be apologising to you!" he said, "I wanted to say I was sorry, but you seemed really upset. I wanted to give you your space, and saying sorry is a bit of a dick move if it's over text,"

I smiled at him, "You might be the one with the most to apologise for, but I'm sorry too; I shouldn't have got so mad at you,"

"You had every right! I was pushing you to tell me stuff you didn't want to talk about,"

I smiled at him gratefully, "Thanks. I get that you think honesty is important but I have a lot of stuff from the past that I'm not ready to talk about, you know?"

"I should have realised..." he trailed off, lost in thought. "Anyway... Last time I was hungover, Louis didn't really seem to care. How about we give him a taste of his own medicine?"