Mrs. Bieber [Zustin Mieber FF] English Version

Part 62

Narrator

"It's holly jolly Christmas; It's the best time of the year."

Oh really? Zayn thought to himself.

It was Christmas time, 'the best time of the year'. Why didn't he feel as happy as he should? It was the time of joy and above all of giving.

Who didn't love Christmas? Who didn't love sitting around in their pajamas, drinking hot chocolate and enjoying the time surrounded by family and friends? Who didn't love listening to Christmas music and opening presents in the morning? How could you don't like eating homemade food and freshly baked Christmas cookies from your mother?

Zayn apparently did, because he felt terrible and didn't let anything cheer him up and carry him away and he certainly didn't feel joyful.

Zayn was one of those people who loved the holidays, he would usually wear a Santa hat and get a few slaps on the wrist for eating all the cookies freshly baked by his mother. He would enjoy the big smiles of his family members when they opened his presents. He absolutely loved the warmth and coziness in his old at home.

But when they all sat together in the living room in front of the TV at seven in the morning, not even the two idiotic criminals from Home Alone 2: Lost in New York could make him smile.

It was an old tradition of the Malik family to wake everyone up early in the morning to watch a film with tea or cocoa and Christmas cookies before they could all look under the Christmas tree for the presents.

Zayn, however, felt like he had never felt at this time of year before. He felt alone, torn, isolated, depressed and most of all, he had a broken heart.

The pounding feeling in his chest seemed to get worse with each passing day. It was as if drops of blood were slowly trickling down his heart and each time his heart was filled with pain again he was more worried. But he also knew that it was pretty unlikely that he would have a heart attack at the age of twenty.

The way his heart kept hurting, as if it was struggling to keep pumping blood through his veins. You could compare it to a pack of wolves jumping on him and tearing half of his heart out with their fangs.

His whole family had noticed the change in his behavior, of course. Zayn was never like this during the holidays. He would usually walk around with a big grin on his face, bursting with joy.

Zayn tried desperately to hide his pain, he didn't make eye contact with anyone and the smile was practically painted on his face. But he couldn't fool anyone here, everyone in this house could see the pain and pure hurt in his brown eyes. It wasn't the kind of pain you feel when you're insulted or hit; it wasn't the pain he felt when he had a fight with the boys.

It was the kind of pain you only feel when you fall out with your loved ones or break up with someone.

Everyone had assumed that it was just the time of year when he missed Perrie the most. Because exactly a year ago, the blonde was in this house, sitting on this very couch in her own soft reindeer pajamas, with a cup of cocoa in her hands.

They didn't want to question him about it because it would only remind him of the pain even more and probably hurt him even more if they mentioned the blonde singer.

However, it was Mama Malik who had been watching him carefully and the whole time. She had kept an eye on the boy, who seemed so isolated, the whole time he was here. She had watched his every move.

She had seen the way he walked, the way he spoke and how one emotion flickered in his eyes only to be replaced by the next. It hurt her so much to see the only person who actually enjoyed Christmas the most so melancholic and depressed. (1)

Her motherly instincts turned her stomach and she wanted so much to take her son aside to ask him what was bothering him. What made his eyes look so dull and pained, what made him unable to enjoy his favorite vacation.

The first thought that had come to her mind had also been Perrie, but immediately she knew she was wrong, she felt it. Whatever was hurting him so much, it wasn't the British blonde, she knew that for sure, it was something or someone that meant more to him than she ever had.

She wished so much that she could take all of his pain away, even if that meant she had to feel it. She never wanted to see her baby sad. She wanted him to have that sparkle in his eyes, she wanted to see him smile, but it should be a real, genuine and honest smile. And above all, she wanted him to be happy. She only wanted the best for all of her children.

But especially for Zayn, he had the hardest time finding happiness. He lived his dream, he had an incredible life that anyone would kill for and he had everything, but at the same time he had nothing.

What was life without happiness and joy? What is life without love? Without friendship and laughter? What is life without someone to share it with?

An unlived life.

She wanted everything and more for her children. And seeing her son so hurt, as if someone had taken all of his joy away from him, tore her apart from the inside.

She didn't want him in front of everyone else. Nothing against her family, it was just that they would upset and pester him even more and she didn't want Zayn to withdraw even more because of it. She had just gotten her son back and she didn't want to see him walk out the door until it was really time for him to go.

She could already smell her Christmas ham coming out of the oven and a small question popped into her mind as she looked at her son, who was staring absentmindedly into his tea and hadn't touched any of her cookies.

Now she was really worried. She wasn't offended that he didn't eat her cookies but in previous years, she had to make three extra batches because Zayn had "secretly" snacked from the fridge or hoarded all the cookies and didn't give a single one to his sisters. She was worried, all the cookies were sitting untouched on the plate in the middle of the table and he didn't look even the slightest bit interested.

"Zayn, darling, could you help me get the ham out of the oven for a minute?" she asked quietly, trying not to sound suspicious. This would be the perfect chance to ask him what was bothering him without the rest of the family hearing everything.

Zayn was brought out of his trance by her words, he looked up and saw his mother, who was looking at him with a hopeful look. He put his tea to one side, next to the plate of untouched biscuits that he didn't want to eat, and stood up.

"Sure, Mum." he replied, trying to plaster a smile on his face so that his mother wouldn't suspect anything.

"Oh, and Safaa, put on some Christmas music, sweetheart! We're about to open the presents." Mom called over her shoulder as she and Zayn entered the kitchen, which was already filled with the wonderful smell of the ham they would later eat.

She began to clear the space on the stove so that Zayn could put the tray on it and wiped the counter with a rag while she waited for the timer to go off in a second.

"Zayn, why don't you be a sweetheart and put the cookies in a tin? I'm about to make breakfast." she asked her son, still cleaning the counter.

Zayn didn't complain, he just did as he was told, because he hardly saw his family anymore, not like he used to. He didn't have many chores to do here and that was when his mind started to wander again, seeing how messy his sisters were, almost as bad as that one person he once called a pig for never cleaning up.

He shook his head, trying to distract himself by putting the cookies in the plastic containers and then closing them. When he had done what was asked of him, he stacked the used plates and put them in the sink.

"Oh, darling, we recently got a dishwasher installed, put them in there," his mother laughed, almost forgetting about the machine.

Zayn froze for a moment, they had a dishwasher now? Growling to himself, he did as she told him, not wanting to start an argument, after all, it was Christmas.

The timer started to ring and Mama Malik's face lit up with excitement as she immediately reached for the oven door and pressed the potholders into Zayn's hand. "Go ahead." she urged him with a challenging look towards the finished ham.

Zayn sighed and let his mother open the oven door. The heat hit him in the face and he quickly grabbed the tray with the casserole dish on it and slowly and carefully pulled it out. As he put the heavy thing on the stove, his mother closed the oven door for him.

Zayn was just about to leave the kitchen when his mother pulled him back by his arm. "Stay in the kitchen with your old mother, darling. It feels like we haven't really spoken to each other in years."

He felt his heart clench with guilt; it was true, they hadn't spoken in a long time. He had hardly called. His life was too hectic and chaotic to find time for that. At least this bullshit excuse made him feel better.

"So, how are you, Zayn? How are the boys?" she asked, trying to start the conversation casually before she got to the big questions.

Zayn cleared his throat. "They're fine, they're all enjoying their holidays." he answered the second question, skipping the first. Just as his mother had expected.

She just hummed. "And what about you?"

Zayn had to swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to tell her how unhappy he was at the moment. But he couldn't, he couldn't ruin Christmas with his story. "I, I... I missed you guys." he admitted, and he had. He had missed his mother, he had missed his sisters who were always buzzing around him, and he had missed his father who he could talk to.

"We missed you too, honey." she smiled warmly at him.

Zayn shrugged, unable to bear to look into her warm and inviting eyes. He didn't deserve a mother who cared for him like that, not after everything he'd done. How he'd treated her and ignored her.

Mama Malik was about to open her mouth to ask a question when a noise came from the speakers. His sister had put on the Christmas music.

"It's the most beautiful time of the year,

Lights fill the streets up with so much cheer.

I should be playing in the winter snow,

But I'mma be under the mistletoe."

Zayn froze, his heart almost exploding at the sound of his voice. He tried to ignore the pain, to distract himself from the music and the sound of his wonderful, wonderful voice.

But with every note that crept up his skin, stabbed his heart and seeped into his muscles and veins, he couldn't stop himself as he turned and walked out of the kitchen, away from his mother.

"Oh thank you, Mum, thank you, oh my god thank you, thank you, thank you!" his younger sister Safaa cried and he noticed her holding up an iTunes gift card.

His mother laughed from the kitchen as the youngest of the sisters jumped into her arms and hugged her tightly. "Thank you! Now I can finally buy Journals! And with the movie tickets Don bought me, I can see Believe! Can you drive me tomorrow, Mum? Please!" she pleaded, doing her puppy dog ​​eye move.

Her mother giggled and looked down at the girl. "Hmmmm, I'll think about it," she teased, hugging her tightly.

"Please!"

Zayn didn't pay much attention to the scenario. He tried his best not to lose his cool in front of his family. He was fighting hard with himself not to freak out. It took every bit of self-control he had not to blow up in front of all those people.

"Oh, I won't ask for much this Christmas,

I won't even wish for snow.

And I'm gonna keep on waiting.

Underneath the mistletoe.

'Cause I just want you here tonight,

Holding on me to tight.

What more can I do?

Baby all I want for Christmas is you,

You Baby."

"Can you turn that off please?" Zayn asked through clenched teeth, unable to continue listening to what Justin and Mariah Carey were wishing for for Christmas. His fingernails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists at his sides.

The music was too loud, his family couldn't hear him, and they were far too busy opening presents.

"Can you turn that shit off? Now?!" Zayn couldn't help but scream as every bit of self-control left his body and he felt the heat of anger boiling inside him. He felt almost desperate.

"Zayn!" Mama Malik cried, her mouth open and she looked at her son in shock. He usually used such vocabulary.

This man who was cursing angrily was not her son.

It was just a broken version of him that was unrecognizable.

He had silenced his entire family, all mouths were open, eyes wide and they all couldn't say a word.

Zayn opened his mouth. "P-please? Can't you listen to someone else? Anyone, but not him?" he croaked, his throat tightening and his heart continuing to bleed and before they knew it, he was running out of the room and up the stairs. He wanted to curl up in his bed under the covers and hide from the world like he always did.

"I'm going to turn something else on, I don't want to make him mad." Safaa muttered, feeling guilty that her brother was so angry just because of the music she had chosen.

"Honey, it's not because of you. Zayn is just... he's just really stressed right now. Just turn the music down a bit, darling. I'm going to go upstairs and check on him." the mother soothed her daughter, not wanting her to feel guilty.

Then she started walking towards the stairs. "Just keep opening the presents, I'm going to check on Zayn." and then she went up the stairs to be able to talk to her son. She wanted to know what the hell was wrong with him.

She grabbed the doorknob and just walked in, it was her house and she could go into any room she wanted.

And then she saw him, his face buried in the pillow, cursing himself, demanding to know what was wrong with him. She could clearly see the tears streaming down his cheeks in frustration.

"Darling," she whispered, sitting down on the bed to wrap her arms around him.

He shook his head, not deserving of the warmth and protection she was giving him. He deserved it, would she tell him off now, or be mad at him. He wanted her to scream at him and tell him what he had done wrong.

"Baby, what is it? And don't tell me it's just the music." She rubbed his arms gently, trying to calm her only son who looked so lost between the overwhelming, big emotions.

He looked over his shoulder at her, it wasn't really the music, it was just the person singing it. She almost made him want to punch himself in the face.

"Is it Justin Bieber who's so upset? Or is it what is it?" she asked, watching his expression change.

Zayn's chest tightened at the mention of his name. He got up from the bed, pulling himself out of his mother's arms so he could pace the small room. His legs felt restless, as did his mind, so many stupid thoughts swirling around in his head. It was almost giving him a headache.

"You don't know Justin like I know him, mom," he started, but stopped immediately as he ran his hands through his hair. The anger and frustration made him tug at it.

Her eyebrows shot up curiously. "Oh." she exhaled. "Then tell me about him," she said, offering him to open up to her so he would feel better later.

And when he opened his mouth, he couldn't stop.

"He is honestly the most annoying person I have ever met! He always has something to say! He always manages to make me mad; he is immature, childish, loud and sarcastic! He always has one of his oh-so-funny comments ready; he always manages to annoy me until I want to smack him to death. You know, he had the nerve to pee in my fucking shower when he was at my place. He even called me at 3am once just to annoy me. Whenever he has the opportunity, he has to remind me that I am only one of five in a fucking group, he insists on being better, more famous and even funnier than me! He even started a Twitter war with me!" Zayn was breathing so heavily as he started ranting about what a huge asshole Justin was.

"He sounds like an absolutely wonderful, kind young man. When are you going to introduce me to him?" asked Mom Malik, crossing his legs and watching her son start to stutter.

"Ww-what? Why would you want to meet someone who only makes your son angry?" asked Zayn, completely baffled by his mother's answer.

She started to grin, her eyes sparkling. "Because my son seems to care about that someone."

He almost choked on his tongue, his heart leaping in his chest. "Sorry Mom, but are you deaf? Did you even listen to me?"

Her smile softened as she saw the confused boy in front of her. She shook her head and walked towards him, placing her hands on his chest. "I heard everything, Zayn, every single word, darling. And none of the words spoke of hate. Only anger, and the only way a person can have such an effect on you is by caring about that person. If you didn't care about him and what he had to say, why would it bother you?"

Zayn opened his mouth to contradict what she had said, but nothing came out except a broken gasp. He raised his hand to his forehead and shook his head in resignation.

"I should probably apologize to Safaa, she can play whatever she wants, Free Country and all that..." he mumbled, hastily heading for the door.

Mama Malik just laughed and sighed heavily, shaking her head in complete disbelief. She couldn't hold back the giggles though.

"I raised a stubborn idiot."

-*-

(Location: Los Angeles, CA. Time: 1 AM on December 26th, UK time: 9 AM on December 26th. Just to avoid confusion)

A black Lamborghini sped down the empty streets of downtown Los Angeles, the streets lit up with lights and Christmas decorations. The colors of the lights gave the driver a small sense of Christmas that he hadn't had the chance to experience until now, as today was the premiere of his film Believe. An all-day thing that kept him busy the whole time.

He sped down the almost silent streets and he couldn't help the melancholy that welled up in his chest as he thought about how he hadn't had a real Christmas just because of his stupid premiere. He would have much rather stayed home, sitting around the tree and enjoying time with family and friends.

That was what Christmas was all about.

He couldn't wait to pull into his garage and be greeted by his mother and his family of course. None of them wanted to be at the premiere and he could hardly blame them. If he had had the choice, he wouldn't have shown up either.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

And the very next day, you gave it away

Now this year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special."

The sound of Wham!'s hit seeped through his car's speakers and he couldn't help but curse, gripping the steering wheel tighter as his heart pounded.

"More like this Christmas, motherfucker." He muttered to himself, biting his lip as he tried to take back what he had said. Because now that he had said it out loud, he was admitting it to himself. He was so fucked.

He pretended to ignore the song because even though it was one of his favorites, it brought back nothing but memories and emotions that he was trying to push to the back of his mind. He wanted to forget all of this but his heart wouldn't let him.

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly it felt like he could snap it in two. His arms twitched, his teeth gritted together, and he could hear his jaw crack. But it was his eyes that hurt the most, burning from unshed tears. Tears of anger, frustration, agony, degradation, humiliation, disappointment, and every other negative emotion that could make a person shed a tear.

Justin didn't notice the many cars behind him at first, following him at full speed, each one pressing down on the accelerator so hard you could hear the fierce roar of the engine as they almost desperately tried to catch up to Justin.

Justin looked in his front mirror and narrowed his eyes as he saw the many cars behind him. He adjusted the mirror briefly, looked back one last time, and saw the light turning green. Then he pressed his foot hard on the accelerator.

His car shot forward, the belt tightening around his chest as the car picked up speed.

45, 55, 68, 77, 80, 100.

His Lamborghini sped forward, the cars tried to surround him and now he knew who was in those cars.

The paparazzi.

He gripped the leather tighter and turned it back and forth, making the car swing here and there so that the headlights wouldn't blind him. His heart raced with fear as he saw that they were getting closer and closer, you could hear the engines getting louder and louder, you could almost smell the plastic wearing off on the concrete.

He didn't want to get involved in a car race now, especially not with the paparazzi. He just wanted to go home.

He tried to get rid of them, he really tried. He kept turning into other streets, trying to leave them in parking lots, making as many U-turns as he could, but nothing could stop them. His only hope was that they would run out of gas.

He bit his lip, saw the next street approaching, he considered turning again. He thought about it and then decided against it.

"Shit." he cursed as they got closer and closer. The panic grew, his heart was racing so hard it felt like it was going to explode and he prayed to God that he would get out of here alive.



The panic became too much, the fear took hold of him and the desperation was clearly there.

And he made his decision.

He turned the steering wheel to the right at the last second and hoped that he would finally get rid of her.

But he should have been more worried about not getting lost here. He hoped that he would get away with it and all he could hear was the screeching of the tires on the asphalt.

Justin had lost control of the car, causing the vehicle to roll over and the clanging and clanking of breaking glass and metal could be heard. The crash echoed through the streets as the car skidded even further before coming to an abrupt stop. Sparks flew as it finally came to a stop.

-*-

The smell of smoke filled the air, you couldn't breathe in without the smell of burnt plastic and gas in their noses.

The firemen raced toward the crashed vehicle in the middle of the empty street, not knowing who was in the car because the anonymous caller had not given any real information.

Looking at the car, one would assume the driver was most likely dead, but one cannot simply assume whether a person was alive or dead. They looked closer, hearing the driver's soft moaning and weak breathing as the men tried to open the doors of the upside-down car.

"We need paramedics! Call them! We have a John Doe here," the fireman leader yelled.

"Sir? We can't open the doors, they're too dented! The John Doe must have died on impact!" Collins yelled as he continued to yank on the door handle, trying to get the door open so they could get the driver and anyone else who might still be in the car out.

"Don't say that! We're not giving up on anyone until we know for sure!" the leader snapped back as one of his newer members was about to give up.

"What are we supposed to do?!" Collins shouted back uncertainly and panicked.

The leader, Reynolds, gritted his teeth and bent his knees slightly to take a closer look at the car. "Bring them here," he ordered, referring to the huge pliers that could cut through just about anything. Collins understood and did as he was told. A few seconds later, excited and nervous, he began cutting open the metal that held the driver next to the unconscious driver.

"Hey man, I don't know if you're still awake, but if you are... we'll get you out of here. You'll be OK, I'll make sure of that," Justin Bieber assured them unknowingly as he cut through the metal more and more hastily so they could pull the young man out.

When the door burst open, they saw the young driver's head lying on the steering wheel, his back bent and barely preventing him from falling.

"Are there any other passengers, sir?"

"No, just the young man."

And then they began to carefully pull the young man out of the broken vehicle. They could hear the paramedics from a distance. When the body was in front of them, they gasped as soon as they saw who they had pulled out of the car.

"Oh my God." The leader felt a little taken aback when he saw the boy his little girl always raved about lying in front of him.

This was not the way he had wanted to meet the young man. He wanted to meet him upright, with the typical grin on his face and especially during a concert that the fireman was already planning to take his daughter to.

Not like this, with the blood seeping from the head wound, turning his hair red, his eyes half closed while his chest rose and fell heavily, struggling to pump air into his lungs. He groaned from the great pain in his chest, in his head, shoulders, hands, ribs and heart. The red suit was even redder than before from all the blood and his body was so limp, almost completely lifeless.

"Move aside, we have to get him to the hospital." the leader of the paramedics interrupted the shocked silence. She pushed the firefighters to the side and checked for a pulse on their necks and wrists.

She sighed. "He doesn't have much time left. If you hadn't had the forceps, we would have lost him already." She whispered almost to herself as another paramedic pushed a stretcher over.

"The victim has deep lacerations on his head." She noticed at a glance and pulled her walkie-talkie out of her pocket to contact one of the nearest hospitals so that they could prepare for the emergency patient.

"Where are you taking him?" asked Reynolds and gathered his team again so that someone could call a tow truck for the broken-down vehicle.

"UCLA Medical Center, it's only a few blocks away." she called over her shoulder before she and her colleagues got into the back of the car so they could make sure Justin survived the trip. Hopefully the heavy bleeding from his head would stop soon.

"Jen, he's already lost so much blood, I don't know if he's going to make it." Paramedic Greg spoke into the silence as he continued to work to ensure the boy's survival. The driver of the car turned on the sirens and drove down the streets as fast as he could.

"We're doing everything we can to keep him alive, damn it. Even if it costs me my life." she answered. She sounded calm and determined but she knew that luck was not on their side.

-*-

Pattie Mallette was sitting on the sofa, having a great conversation with Heidi and Beck. All three of them were waiting for Justin to return from the film premiere. They were there to see the film but didn't stay until the after-party. Heidi wasn't feeling well and Beck didn't want to go out without her. So they went home together and watched Christmas movies and sang karaoke.

"Where is he, Mama Mallette?" Heidi moaned. She wanted her best friend to finally be here.

Mama Mallette laughed softly. "He should be on his way by now, he said he wouldn't stay past one o'clock." she assured the impatient woman.

Heidi snorted and Pattie was about to pout when her cell phone rang.

"Sorry, I have to answer it." she said to the two as she grabbed her iPhone and went into the kitchen so she had some silence and privacy.

She answered it. "Hello?" she asked, thinking it might be her son calling from someone else's cell phone.

What she didn't expect was the tragic, shocking and frightening news. Her heart stopped and her hands began to shake as tears began to form.

"Oh my God, please tell me he's alive, I'm begging you, please I can't lose him. Please, please tell me he's alive and tell me he's OK. This can't happen on Christmas, please, I...please don't tell me my only child is dead." she cried and pleaded into the phone.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't assure you of that. But please come here, it doesn't look very good." the nurse looked close to tears as she heard the mother's heart-wrenching sobs. The woman had fallen to her knees and she couldn't hold back the tears from the start.

"No, no, that can't be happening, please, please, that's not really happening right now." Mama Mallette pleaded with God, praying that her son was OK and that he would make it.

But this is really happening and she couldn't cry about it right now, she had to pull herself together and be strong for her son.

She picked herself up from the floor, the pain in her chest only getting worse as she ran into the living room, grabbed her bag and went to inform the people she knew Justin really wanted her there.

They jumped in the car and sped towards the UCLA Medical Center. Beck was driving, as she was obviously unable to right now, as she couldn't see for all the tears and her chest felt like it was being ripped in two.

Heidi was curled up in the back seat, crying her eyes out as she prayed to God, even though she didn't even believe in Him.

"Please, please, God, don't take him away from me. Don't take my best friend away from me. He's too young. He doesn't deserve this, he's the sweetest, kindest, kindest, funniest man I know and he doesn't deserve to die. You've taken so many people from me already but now I'm begging you God, not him too. He and Beck are the only family I have left, my father is in prison, I don't know who my mother is and my uncle is dead. Please God don't take him away from me. Please, he doesn't deserve to die. It's not time for that yet."

And the worst part of it all?

Zayn was lying in his old bedroom and he was unaware of the fact that the love of his life was getting closer and closer to heaven.

And when he opened his eyes again, that terrible car accident would be what he woke up to.

You have to remember, Christmas is a joyful holiday for most people. But not everyone can always enjoy a merry Christmas.

.★*... ✈...*★. ★*... ✈...*★. ★*... ✈...*★.