One Direction Preferences (Interracial-Bwwm)

Segregation //Zayn//

Warning: May contain racial slurs, names, etc. Please do not read if you may get offended.

"Mom?" You look up at your mother as the two of you walked down the road to the local supermarket. She grabs a cart and pushes it into the store.

"What is it y/n?" She asks looking over the items on the shelf, adding what she needed into the cart. You followed closely behind her, adding a box of your favorite cereal into the cart.

"What does nigger mean?" You look at her curiously. Your mother stops pushing the cart and looks down at you, a frown on her face.

"Who told you that word?" She asks you, grabbing hold of your small hands. You shake your head, biting your lips.

"No one, I just heard some kids saying it at school. Forget." You mumble. You mother let out a sigh.

"Listen to me y/n don't you go around saying that word. God don't like that. No one should be called out of their names, you here me? We are all equal in the eyes of god. You remember that. Do not hold any hate in your heart." You nod your head, hearing everything she was saying to you. Your mother resumed to her shopping, every often she would glance at you.

You weren't stupid, you knew what the word meant or what it kind of implied. The truth was that someone had said it to you when you were playing on the school playground. You never really understood why the kids with lighter skin were so mean to you.

Ten years had passed since that day you asked your mom about a name you were being called. The kids weren't as mean to you as they were in the pass. You walked into your first period class, taking your seat next to this kid that barely ever talked in his class. You knew his name was Zayn and that he was Muslim. That was about it. He never looked at anyone or attempted to make any friends. You wrote the date of the day onto your paper, September 11, 2001. You sighed and began writing down the notes of the day.

About 20 minutes into the class there was chaos erupting in the halls. Your teacher stood up, making his way to the door.

"Oh my god." Someone said looking out the window. Everyone got up and rushed there, peering out into the distance. A cloud of smoke rose high into the sky. "That's the twin towers!" They exclaimed. Another teacher rushed into the room.

"New York City is under attack!! Terrorists have taken over our planes!" She informed the class. Most of the kids in the class glanced to Zayn. You knew what exactly they were thinking.

"Your people did this!" Someone shouts angrily at him. Zayn shook his head, standing up.

"My people?" He questions, that was the first time you heard his voice. "I have nothing to do with this. I'm just as innocent as you all are." He defends himself.

"Get out of here terrorists!" A book was heaved at him, striking him on the arm. Zayn frowns and storms out of the room. You followed after him, making your way through the halls filled with people. A lot of people were crying, probably they had family who worked in the city. You caught glimpse of Zayn and ran after him.

"Wait up!" You shout. Zayn stops running and turns around to look at you.

"What do you want?" He asks leaning against the wall behind him.

"Sorry...I was just coming to check if you were okay. What the kids did back there was wrong. None of this is your fault. They were being racist." You fold your arms over your chest watching him. "I'm -"

"I know your name." He mumbles pulling out a cigarette and lights it up. "Want one?" He asks offering you a stick from his pack. You shake your head politely declining.

"Smoking isn't good for you." You tell him. Zayn inhales a fume of smoke, blowing it out.

"Yeah a lot of things aren't good for me. Want to get out of here?" He looks at you, offering a hand. You look at it and take it hesitantly.

"Sure."