Live While We're Young

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

 Zayn’s head spun. His head ached. He couldn’t breathe. He opened his eyes to find Louis and Niall sitting on top of him. That was why there was no air going to his lungs. He was laying on cold, hard tile. He groaned and the boys cheered.

“He’s alive!”

“That’s more than Lottie is.” Zayn stared at the ceiling.

“What’re ya talkin’ about? Lottie’s fine,” Niall said. Louis nodded his head in agreement.

“No, she’s dead. Charlotte’s grandmother said so.”

“Uh, mate, you haven’t talked to her grandmother. You were rushing into the kitchen and knocked your head into that swinging door,” Louis pointed somewhere in the distance. “We found you passed out right here.”

Zayn jerked his head up. “Passed out?” He looked confused.

“Yeah, Zaynie boy. And ya must’ve hit your head on something hard, ‘cause you seem out of it!” Niall laughed. Liam loomed over him, phone to his ear.

He hung up and said, “Hey, how you feeling?”

“A little hungry, but otherwise good,” Niall answered.

“Not you, dipshit,” Louis smacked him in the chest.

“MY NIPPLE!” Niall yelled as he tumbled off of Zayn and onto the floor. Liam rolled his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked pointedly at Zayn.

“I think so. My head is pounding though.”

“What’s your name?”

“What? You know what my name is, you don’t have to-”

“I know I know your name. I’m trying to see if YOU know your name.”

“Zayn Malik.”

“What year is it?”

“‘69” Niall and Louis cracked up. Harry came in through the swinging door laughing.

“Zayn, be serious,” Liam reprimanded, trying to hide the grin on his face.

“2013?”

“Okay, who are we?”

“We are One Direction.”

“Good. Now let’s go check on Lottie.”

“Uh, actually, we’re not supposed to-” Harry started, but Zayn pushed Louis off him and ran towards the door. He screeched to a halt and slowly pushed the door open, walked through while holding on to the edge, turned, and closed it carefully behind him. The others just crashed through and left it swinging.

“Where is she? Where’s Lottie? Charlotte!” Zayn yelled.

“Calm down, young man. She’s perfectly okay,” an old lady comforted, patting him on the back and gesturing toward a yellow couch in the living room.

Zayn tripped over himself rushing to get to Lottie. When he looked over the back of the couch, she was laying there with her eyes shut, an IV in her arm.

“Lottie?” he whispered.

“Zayn? That you?” she sounded exhausted.

“Yeah, it’s me. How you feelin’?”

“Like a million bucks,” she gave him a little half-smile, her eyes still shut.

“That’s great. We still on for deceiving your grandma? I mean dinner?”