Drive (Zayn Malik AU)

1 | how funny is it..

How funny is it that even after death everyone still judged him?

He had been gone for two months now and all anyone had to say about him, if at all, was how guilty he was for the death of that little girl. They'd always add the fact that there was "something off about that boy from the start", and whatever else they felt would make their clueless suspicions justifiable.

He was the boy with way too many tattoos, with "distracting" hair styles, who missed way to many days of school, who smoked while he leaned against his car that was too loud, and too fast.

His car.

His car that somehow found its way on Peplot and Madison where that poor little girl was celebrating her sixth birthday on her front lawn with her family and friends a little later than her bedtime.

How can they say he did it? How can they say that he had killed her? How can they say that the boy I loved, the one that was a firm believer in karma and owning up to your actions, could actually have  killed an innocent child and just drive away?

How?

Everywhere I looked his face appeared with the most disgustingly judgmental words. Everywhere. Online, the shops, school. Everywhere.But that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it all could have been the fact that his death meant nothing. "Just another idiot off the streets," they'd say. Or maybe the worst was how no one could remember a single good thing about him. Or maybe it was the fact that his killer was hailed a hero. Or maybe the worse was just having him gone in general.

If I closed my eyes and thought hard enough I could almost remember every detail about the last time we were together. My birthday.

I start to imagine I'm sitting in the passenger seat of his car. We're driving along the coast, singing along to any and every song on the radio. He's telling me that these are going to be the best years of our  lives. He's talking. He's laughing. He's smiling. And most important he's alive. 

Remembering that last day wasn't only difficult for me because it be the last Id get with him, no..remembering that day was difficult because I was there when he was murdered.

And Id never forget it.

•

"Sh*t I'm almost outta gas," Zayn taps his thumb against the steering, biting down on his lip.

"Then stop for gas," I laugh, wondering why he was being so secretive and time sensitive.

"It's almost midnight though."

"What happens at midnight?" I ask again. Maybe this time he'd answer.

"You mean beside it being your eighteen birthday?"

"Yes, besides that," I press.

"You'll find out at midnight," is all he says holding back his laughter. He knew I was terrible at waiting for surprises..it's probably why he always doing them.

"Zayn," I push his shoulder with a fake whine,"Just tell me now."

"Nope," He smiles warmly at me, looking over at me for a second.

I sigh, sitting back in the seat, as we pull into a busy gas station. It was Saturday night and several party goers were either stocking up on beer or filling up there tank before they picked up all their buddies.

"Want anything?" Zayn asks, shutting off the car.

"I think you already know," I smile widely.

"Again with this," He says loudly before letting out a laugh. He opens the car door, hopping out before shutting the door gently.

With my arm resting against the door, I lean my head as I watch Zayn walk toward the small gas station convenience store. His hand pats down on his back pocket before quickly turning back around and rushing toward the car.