Forbidden Desires {Ziall AU}

Chapter 11: I hide behind a mask

chapter title from Fine by Kyle Hume

Hey everyone!

I hope you enjoy this chapter, I'm so sorry for the delay. I've had so much shit going on, but I won't bitch on about my stupid excuses.
The next chapter should be out quicker than this one (hopefully). I'm in a reading slump right now, so I don't know how much motivation I'm gonna have, but I'll try!
Anyway, as always, enjoy!

"I can't believe no one taught you how to fight," I ramble as I tighten my shoelaces, stealing a glance at his bare torso. At the deep maroon of the bites scattered along his pale skin.

He huffs out a small chuckle while slipping a shirt over his head, much to my disappointment. "Well, the middle child doesn't get taught much." he means to end it there, but he catches my furrowed brows out of the corner of his eye. "my brother was always going off to do all this special training n' shit with my father, not that it bothered me." He sighs, running an anxious hand through his hair.

"Your dad's an ass too?" I chuckle, making my way out of the locker room while he follows close behind.

I hear his sweet laughter from behind me, and I hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps it gave me. "Aren't most?"

"You got a point." I smile, setting up a punching bag.

I slip my gloves on, handing some to Niall. "So, you've gotta punch the bag- "

He quips out a short laugh, "Oh really, Mr. Obvious?"

I give him a raging smile, turning my head away before he can see the blush creeping up my neck. "Well, if you're that talented, let's see you try," I smirk, leaning against the gym wall.

He stares at me with his mouth agape, a blank stare caught in his eyes. "Uh- I didn't... I didn't mean..." he trails off, gesturing at the bag hanging untouched from the ceiling. He doesn't realise how fucking insane he drives me. With that rose blush spreading across his cheeks.

I bite my lip, barely containing my smirk. He stares at me like he's willing me to say something, so I glance at the bag. He lets out a deep breath, taking a step toward the bag before giving it the weakest punch I've ever seen in my entire life.

It takes all my might to not burst out laughing as he paces around the gym holding his hand like its falling apart. "You alright?"

He looks up at me, taking in my amused expression, "Do. not." He growls, I'd like to say that my body didn't like that, but we both know I'd be lying.

I push the thought out of my mind, instead focusing on his angry demeanor, "Don't what?" I ask, giving him the most innocent look I can muster.

"Do not laugh, or I swear to god I'll knock you out myself." He seethes, but I can see the faint smile poking through his angry features.

"I mean, if that's anything to go off of, I think you might have a hard time..."

He looks like he's going to explode, I've never seen his face so red. Without warning, he lunges at me, pinning me against the dirty gym wall. He starts placing open-mouthed kisses down my neck, sending a familiar electricity through my body.

As much as I don't want to, I ease him off me. He gives me the cutest pout I've ever seen, and it almost makes me melt, almost. "C'mon, we have things to do." I coax, trying to get some distance between us. The more distance I put between us, the more I hope that I'll be able to ignore the slight hardness in my shorts.

He grabs my arm, spinning me around to face him and pressing us as close as possible before I can protest. "But I wanna do this," he mumbles it against my lips, giving me no choice but to press my mouth to his.

I feel the moment his body goes pliant in my arms, arching into my touch so deliciously. I shove our bodies into the wall, making him whine against my lips. He starts grinding into me and its only then that I notice that he's as hard as I am. I shove my tongue in his mouth, and he takes it, he fucking takes it. Before long the room is on fire with echoed whimpers and dirty moans, and we haven't even got out fucking clothes off.

He grabs my wrist roughly, and searing pain shoots down my veins. I jerk away from him, muttering profanities into tense air.

"Zayn," he says rushing over to me. "I'm so sorry, I forgot."

He's looking at me with his brow furrowed, anxiety written all over his face. "It's alright, you didn't mean it." I smile, hoping to ease the tension marked into his features.

He gives me a sad smile, rolling my sleeve up to expose the angry red lines tainting my skin. The scars are broken, leaving scarlet red smudged on my arm. I turn my head away, focusing on the grooves in the hardwood floor. It takes me a moment to realise he's saying my name, trying to get my attention. I look at him, seeing the worry lines stretched across his forehead, "I'm worried about you,"

The sinking feeling starts, the feeling of wanting to stop existing, to slide into the cold abyss. "I'm fine," I choke out, but even I can tell it's hardly believable.

"Your obviously not," he soothes, rubbing small circles into my palm. "I think... I think you should talk to someone,"

I jerk away from him, almost like I've been slapped.

I can't. I can't. I can't.

"No, I can't," I breathe. I pace around the room, hands on my head and trying to stabilize my now uncontrolled breathing. My erratic heartbeat trying to burst out of my ribcage.

He takes a step towards me but notices when I take one back. He stays still after that, even if he looks wounded. "You can't, or you won't?"

"Stop." I'm pretty sure if I pull my hair any harder, I'll rip it out, but it's the only thing keeping me tied to my body. I'm sure if I let myself go, I'd simply float away. But that doesn't sound like too bad of an option at this point.

"Zayn," he murmurs, his voice softer than I've ever heard it before. "You need help, you really should talk-"

It all happens so fast, flashing by in a blur. One moment I'm pacing, the next I'm holding him by his collar against the wall, pressing him into the cool concrete. "Shut up, I don't fucking need help!" I'm screaming into his face, angry red crossing my vision.

He's never looked at me like he does now, the anxiety flittering through his gaze in waves. The tenseness of his shoulders, building a wall brick by brick around his body. His stormy eyes guarded with unspoken barricades. Concealing his usually transparent thoughts from me. Only one emotion taunts his vision, showing me its presence as clear as day. Something that I never want to see him feel. Something that feels so achingly familiar. Yet almost undetectable if concealed.

Fear.

He's scared of me.

It's the exact same look I saw in Liam's eyes, the unmistakable terror of danger, the fight or flight.

I push myself away from him with a staggered breath, tension filling the air with a distinct toxicity. Before I can arrange my thoughts, I'm pushing myself through the bleak gym door, ignoring his calls after me.

I don't want him to fear me.

Word Count: 1218