Mrs. Bieber [Zustin Mieber FF] English Version

Part 18

Zayn

"Zayn? Mate? We have to go." Liam urged me to get out, waking me up as I had fallen asleep during the drive.

"What? We're already there?" I yawned.

"We're at the hotel, we should hurry before the fans find us." Liam replied, urging me on.

"It's okay, I'm awake." I grumbled as I stretched and gathered my things from the backseat of the black car.

I jumped out of the car and saw that the other guys must already be at the hotel, probably checking in while Liam was the only one waiting for me.

"Zayn? Your mom called-"

"Liam, no. I'm tired." I interrupted.

"Zayn, she called me over and over. Why don't you answer the phone?" Liam asked worriedly as I stomped towards the entrance.

"Look, Liam, I'm tired, I'm done. I'll call you back tomorrow." I snapped.

He seemed uncomfortable. "Um, okay, let's check in now then." He mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

I nodded and continued towards the entrance, where I could see Harry through the glass taking the room keys from the receptionist. He saw me as I pushed the door open and smiled.

"Looks like you have your own room, Zayn! Lucky you!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm alone, that's great!"

Harry just grinned and turned to Louis, jingling two of the hotel keys. "Are you sharing a room with me?"

Louis snorted and snatched the keys from his hand. "Always, Harry." And I walked to the elevator, while Harry followed him, grinning and like a shadow.

Liam and Niall followed them and I had never felt so alone, so left out, so forgotten in my life. My mind pushed back the pain in my chest and I shook my head. You don't have time for this, Zayn. You have to be strong.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and ignored it. I didn't want to talk to anyone right now.

"Zayn? Are you coming, man?" Niall called over his shoulder.

I cleared my throat and nodded. "Yeah, just a minute!"

I quickly ran to the elevator and hurriedly got in before the elevator doors closed. Louis and Harry were deep in conversation about who knows what and Liam was grinning at his phone screen while Niall just stood there and looked at the beautifully paneled walls of the elevator. I just looked in the mirror on one wall and realized how well I had gotten along with these three guys over the past three years. When did I ever think I felt so alone?

Especially with my best friends? Since when do you feel like you are no longer spiritually present?

"Zayn? Are you planning on standing here?" Louis giggled as they waited for me to leave the elevator so they could finally go to their rooms.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'm still half asleep, I think," I whispered.

"You slept like the dead, Zayn," Harry mocked me.

I ignored his comment and walked out into the hotel corridor.

"Zayn?" Liam called from the front.

"Yes, Liam?" I sighed.

"It's your mom, again," he informed me, waving his cell phone, which showed an incoming call on the screen.

I bit my lip. "Tell her we're at the hotel and I've decided to get some sleep."

Liam sighed. "Do you really want to sleep? You know I hate lying."

"I know you wouldn't lie. Just tell her," I said curtly and irritably.

He nodded and put the cell phone to his ear. "Yes, hello Mrs. Malik! I'm fine, thank you. And you? ... I'm glad! Haha," he chuckled. "

Zayn? Oh, he wanted to get some sleep. Do you want me to tell him something?" I walked away, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation.

I ran to my room before Liam finished talking on the phone. I didn't want to hear it, I wanted to be alone. I didn't want my mom to be worried, I hated ignoring her or upsetting her. But I didn't want to talk to her right now.

I put the key card in the slot and waited for the light to turn green so I could go in. When it turned green, I pushed the door open and let out a sigh of relief.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, it was my Twitter feed. I still read everything, even though management was controlling it now. I was still logged in. I saw everything. The appreciation, the love, the devotion and the sweet compliments, the "follow me" tweets.

But what always caught my eye was the hate. Last year they went so far as to make me delete my account.

I couldn't stop it, I couldn't stop my fingers from sliding the iPhone unlock bar to the right, I couldn't stop my thumb from pressing the Twitter icon.

Misery loves company.

@maribel379383: @Zaynmalik you are nothing but a waste of space.

@fridarose3552: @Zaynmalik why can't you keep your fucking mouth closed? You have an ugly smile and a terrible voice.

@Jojokissesxx: @Zaynmalik Perrie is so much better off without you! She and Nick are so much cuter together!

@breeeee_: @Zaynmalik why did you ever sign up for xfactor? If you hadn't the world would be a lot better off!

@LadyKilla345: @Zaynmalik you are such a faggot! Another @Justinbieber only with a British accent! You two boys should just jump off the cliff!

@ayoobreebree: @Zaynmalik do the world a favor and die. Or delete your twitter again, you're such a pussy.

My eyes stung, a sudden pain shot through my chest and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down. I'm not fucking crying. I'm not shedding a single fucking tear!

Oh man, who was I kidding, I deserved to feel like shit. I was nothing but a horrible person. I was ugly, my voice was horrible, I was dropped and I avoided my mother.

I wiped my eyes, feeling pathetic as I looked at the screen and scrolled through the hateful tweets that ranged from the bad to those that would make Eminem cry.

I jumped in shock when I heard a knock on the door.

"Zayn? Zayn?"

I sighed deeply, stood up, went to the door to open it and lo and behold, Liam was standing there. Who would have thought. He stood in front of me with a worried look on his face.

"I was just thinking maybe you'd like to go downstairs for something to eat with all of us?" Liam said.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I could feel the lump forming in my throat again and I didn't really want to be asked what was wrong with me later.

Liam continued to eye me worriedly. "Fine, okay. Then rest and ask for room service to bring you something up. Call me if anything happens, okay?"

I didn't answer him as he strolled away, my chest aching. Couldn't he see behind my facade? Couldn't he see behind the lies? Couldn't he see how bad I was today? Like every day so far?

I don't think so.

I closed the door behind me and went back to my phone, which vibrated to tell me I had a message.

He would never be mad at you, love. He applauded you from the hospital, don't blame yourself Zayn. There was nothing you could have done. He was proud of you, he was happy for you when you and the boys made it to next week. Zayn, please talk to me. I need you honey, your sisters need you. We all miss you. I love you Zayn. Take care. Love, Mum.

I stared at the screen, fighting an internal battle of whether or not to reply like I always did. I didn't want to disrespect my mother, she was just doing what any mother would do. But she just didn't understand me. She didn't understand the pain, the guilt, the wordlessness, the anger and resentment and self-hatred. She just didn't understand.

Those people were right, I was nothing but a waste of space.

I felt the new tears burning in my eyes, threatening to overflow. I felt the pain and agony filling my entire body. I felt the emotions that always overcame me during this time. They were eating me up and I couldn't stop them.

Bzzzzt. Bzzzzt.

I looked at my iPhone and wiped my nose with my sleeve when I saw the caller.

I let out a sigh. Maybe he could distract me from this shit. Maybe he could get me so worked up that I forgot what I was feeling, maybe he could bring me back to my normal feelings.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hey, Wifey! Just wanted to let you know that rumors are going around that my Beliebers are voting your Directioners out!" he said cheerfully.

"That's great, Justin, good for you." I replied as I slumped back on the hotel bed.

"Yes, it is! Wait, what?! Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, why not?" I replied, my eyes filling with tears again. I could feel them streaming down my cheeks. I hated crying. I hated feeling vulnerable, I hated showing emotion. I hate being so damn sensitive. It made me feel like the biggest pussy.

"Because I just said you're losing. I repeat, YOU ARE LOSE THE VMA's!" he explained.

"So? That's what you wanted, isn't it? Congratulations." I mumbled as my voice broke and I cursed inwardly.

"Woah, what's wrong, Wifey? I'm not getting any nasty or witty replies back! Where's my feisty Wifey?" he asked seriously.

"I'm fine, Justin. Let me the fuck go, kay?" I suggested, my eyes stinging as I squeezed them shut to get rid of the tears. I'm not going to hear him crying over the phone.

"No, I'm not fucking letting you go until you tell me what's wrong," he stated.

"It's nothing! I'm fine! No, I'm fantastic!" I shouted.

"I don't believe you for a second," he spat, unfazed by my yelling.

"And why not?"

"Because you haven't called me Mrs. Malik or an asshole once. And that means there's really something going on! Don't contradict me now!" he ordered.

My throat tightened. "How? How do you know?" I croaked.

"Because I think we're kind of friends now. Even if we're more than that in court," he joked. "So what is it, Zayn? What's eating you up?" he asked, now actually a little worried.

"You're not going to make fun of me?" I asked, sounding so fucking vulnerable I wanted to strangle myself.

"No, I'm not going to make fun of you... not much, anyway." he giggled.

"You're a real asshole," I muttered and he laughed.

"I know, now tell me," he repeated.

I cleared my throat. "It's just, I know it's pathetic. I should be immune to it or used to it. But it... it hurts."

"What? Your honor? Did someone kick your ass before I could?" he interrupted.

"Could you keep a straight face for one fucking second?" I spat.

"Sorry, carry on," he said sheepishly.

"It's just... all the hate. It's back and it's worse than ever. I thought that Perrie and I split up would help. But now that I'm single, it's like World War II is happening again and I'm Judaism," I confessed.

He grumbled. "Zayn, you have to know something. The hate will never go away. Hate is here to stay. There will always be haters."

"But why? What did I do wrong? All I do is sing! And they criticize even that!" I screamed.

"You must be doing something right to drive these bitches crazy, Zayn." He replied and I felt myself start to laugh quietly. "Zayn, the hate never seems to stop. The more successful you become, the bigger your fandom will be, yes, people will say great things about you, about your music, about what you wear, how you speak and act and who you date. You will feel like you are locked in, that you are living under a microscope and you are. You will hardly have a moment to yourself, you will not be able to just walk out of your house or to the fucking supermarket without the paparazzi following you. But you have to remind yourself, you are living the life that people would kill to live. You are living your dream and not many people can say that. Practically nobody can, Mrs. Bieber." He sighed deeply.

"How can you still do that? They are all such assholes, most of them anyway! I'd like to delete every single social media account so I never have to see their faces again!" I growled.

"Don't do that! Don't do that! That's just what they want! What they crave! That's their fucking goal! They want you to burn and fall like the Twin Towers! They want a reaction, they want you to make a mistake that could probably ruin your career. And anyway, what about the people who constantly tweet you their love, support you, and assure you of their affection? Who think you're their idol? Who send you marriage proposals? Who constantly vote for you? The ones who pay your fucking bills? What about THEM?!" he shouted.

I flinched at his tone and automatically shrugged my shoulders. "They're the only reason I still put up with this."

"And aren't they worth it, Wifey?" he whispered breathlessly.

I sighed and nodded.

"Yes, definitely. They are."

"You're finally coming to your senses, you fucking rookie." he laughed.

I giggled good-naturedly. "Oh, fuck off, Bieber."

He cackled. "Now tell me what's really wrong with you."

I froze. "T-that's it." I lied, stuttering like a complete idiot.

"You and I both know that's bullshit." he said dryly.

"What are you talking about? That's all that's bothering me."

"Just tell me. You want to tell someone, because then at least you'll know how to hide it properly." He ignored my objections.

"I don't want to talk about it, I'm just having a really bad day." I said vaguely.

"You could say that, but what happened?" he asked urgently.

"God, you're so nosy. Are you sure you don't work for E! News or Perez?" I asked, trying to distract him.

"Nice try, but stop cutting me off." he said harshly, leaving no room for retort.

"Look, my mom keeps calling me and I just don't want to talk to her." I admitted with a groan.

"Why are you ignoring her? Don't you miss her?" he asked.

"Of course I miss her! What kind of stupid question is that? That's my MUM!" I yelled.

"Oh right, you say Mum, not Mom, like normal people do." he commented.

"It's normal for me, you fucking foreigner." I replied.

"You're on US soil, so you're the foreigner," he corrected. "

You're Canadian! How does that not make you a foreigner too?" I asked.

"Because I'm a US citizen," he said in an annoyed tone.

"So, me too." I grinned.

"Since when?!"

"Since we tied the knot, honey." I trilled.

"But that's not the issue now, what's wrong with you? Why are you ignoring your mother? What are you running from?" he asked.

"I'm not running from! I'm just really busy! And she's calling at the wrong time!" I justified myself, although almost everything was a total lie.

"No, I think she wants to see what her only son is up to," he corrected.

"I'm 20 fucking years old! I don't need anyone watching what I'm up to!"

"To her, you're still her baby. Get over it, you're lucky to have a mother who cares about you. I know people who wish they had a mom like that," he replied, a sharp tone in his voice.

"But I don't want her pestering me with questions about how I feel." I grumbled.

"What do you feel about what?" he asked. "What feelings?!"

"About my goddamn grandfather's death!" I screamed at him before I could stop myself. And I froze with my hand over my mouth.

"What? Your grandfather died? When?" I asked, not believing I had told him. I let the cat out of the bag, how fucking stupid of me!

I hung up and put the phone away. I pulled my knees up to my face and rocked back and forth. Like a baby. How pathetic.

Why did I say that? Why did I even answer that damn call? Why couldn't I just get some sleep like I told Liam?

I felt my phone vibrate again and I continued rocking. I just let the phone ring. I couldn't look him in the face, or hear his voice. I couldn't bear his judgment.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

My screen lit up and a text flashed. I looked to my right to read the message.

I'm sorry for your loss, but talk to me man. You need it. I'm your friend, Zayn. -Justin

I looked at the phone and my eyes blurred as I was thrown back to the Xfactor time. It was just before the semi-finals and then the call came from my mum.

"Honey? There's something going on with your grandfather. He's in the hospital. He doesn't look good..." my mother said quietly and I could hear my sisters crying quietly in the background. And I could hear my mother close to crying too. But she stayed strong for my sisters. I always admired my mother for her strength.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with him?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"His... his heart. It's so weak, Zayn." she whispered and I swear I could hear the tears falling to the floor.

"Mum? Can't they save him? What have the doctors done?" I asked, sitting on the toilet seat as I locked myself in.

"There's nothing more they can do for him, Zayn. There's no donor and, honey, he's holding on as long as he can." she cried.

"Mum, mum! I'm taking the next flight! I'll be there almost any minute!" I promised her.

"Honey, don't do this. Don't jeopardize the show, you have to think about the other guys. Come tomorrow, your grandfather will hold out until you get here tomorrow." She said. "Oh, honey, I have to charge my phone. Stay where you are! I love you. And I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck, we'll all see you. Even your grandfather." She said goodbye and the connection broke off because her battery died.

"And he died during our performance." I said at the end and the tears rolled down my cheeks and dripped onto my knees. Little roses spread out on my dark blue pants. "I never got to say goodbye. I never got to tell him I loved him." I croaked and Justin just remained silent. "And the guilt, the guilt. It eats me up. Every day. Every damn day. But today, today is the anniversary of his death. The day my hero, my second father, the man who was a huge part of my life, died. And I wasn't there to hold his hand. I was on that fucking stage, on a show we didn't even win," I whispered. "I didn't get to say goodbye to him," I sobbed.

"Zayn..." he sighed."It's not your fault."

"Don't say that!" I cried, my nails digging into my palms.

"It's not your fault, Zayn, it's not your fault," he repeated, as if he hadn't heard me. "You couldn't have known he would die while you were performing. No one could have predicted that." Justin added.

"No! I should have been there! I should have gone to be with him!" I protested.

"Zayn, would your grandfather have wanted you to throw away your dream for him?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter what he would have wanted! He was dying! And where the hell was I?! On the fucking stage!" I snorted, the tears continuing to fall, making circles on my blue pants.

"Answer my question, Zayn." he ordered.

I sniffled and my lips curled into a thin smile.

"No, he was one of the most selfless people I knew. He told me to reach for the stars, he believed in me like no one else. He would have hit me on the back of the head and called me an idiot if I had come to him before I performed." I wiped away the tears. "

Then why do you blame yourself so much? You did what he wanted. He knew that you loved him and you wanted to be with him. Did you never think that he might have been watching you?" Justin began.

"No! Stop! I don't want to imagine that he died while I was singing!" I interrupted him.

"I'm sorry, Zayn. I'm sorry that you had to experience such a misfortune. And at such a young age too," Justin whispered to me through the phone.

"Do any of the other guys know?" he then decided to ask.

"They know about his death, but they don't know that it shook me so much." I snorted.

"I doubt it, they've known you longer than I have. I bet they were just giving you your time." He disagreed.

I shrugged and yawned.

"Thanks for listening."

Justin laughed lightly. "I knew you had to confide in someone. And now we can officially say that we're friends."

I felt my lips curl into a small smile and repeatedly wiped away the tears.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that, asshole."

"You really know how to ruin a moment, don't you?" he snorted.

I laughed. "Goodnight, asshole.

" "Goodnight Mrs. Bieber." he replied.

I didn't hit back because my eyes almost closed and my body just sank into the mattress, blaming my tiredness for my emotional low point.

But I went to sleep with something I hadn't woken up with that morning.

A new friend.