One Direction One-Shots (boyxboy)

Ziall - The Man Who Can't Be Moved

Okay, here it is: One Shot based on one of my most favourite songs ever, The Man Who Can’t Be Moved by the one and only, The Script. It’s a make-up gift for the two months that I wasn’t on Wattpad [Thank You Boarding School]. I know it’s not enough, but it’s the best I could come up with in a week.

~

One-Shot: Ziall- The Man Who Can’t Be Moved

Zayn was sat on the walkway outside of Harold’s Bakery, backpack and sleeping bag in hand, feeling absolutely miserable. This feeling wasn’t new for the boy, because misery was the only thing he had been feeling for a month; just this time he was sitting in the freezing cold, trying to overcome the misery. It pained his heart remembering what had happened exactly a month ago putting him into his present position.  His always quiffed hair was now falling flat on his head, since he believed that there was no reason to look good now. He turned his head looking into the glass of the bakery behind him. The bakery held so many memories for him, hence why Zayn was sitting outside of the bakery; waiting for what he still believed was his.

-1 Week Later-

It had been a week and Zayn was sat at the same spot as when he started.  He had gone back to his flat once because his best mate Louis happened to be passing the area, and he forced him to go back and take a shower, claiming that he ‘smelled as if he took a swim in the sewer.’ He also brought a guitar back with him, and printed the chords to a song so he could learn them.

He sat in front of the window, once again, strumming on the guitar. He saw the looks people gave him when they walked past, looking at the Bradford boy as if he was homeless.

“Some try to hand me money, they don’t understand, I’m not broke, I’m just a broken hearted man,” he sang along to the chords.

~

The boy was still sitting outside the bakery, strumming away when a shadow fell upon him. Zayn paid no attention to it, thinking it was another customer for the bakery until he was tapped on his back. He looked up to see a boy around his age with a mop of curly brown hair and green eyes looking down at him. Zayn recognized him as the owner of the bakery as he had spent many hours there.

 “Hey mate,” he greeted as he took a seat on the foot path next to Zayn. “Is everything alright mate?” he asked genuinely, which surprised Zayn a bit. “I’m Harry, by the way,” he added. Zayn nodded and answered simply saying, “Zayn.” They sat in silence for a while, until Harry spoke again.

 “You still didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out. “I don’t mean to be nosy or anything, I’ve just noticed you sitting outside my shop for a week and wanted to know why,” he added.

 “Well, to answer your question truthfully, nothing’s alright.” Harry nodded his head, urging Zayn to continue. When he didn’t say anything, Harry spoke again, “You used to come to the bakery before right? With that blonde boy?” Zayn’s heart felt as if it were wrenched out of his chest at the mention of the blonde boy. Tears began slipping from his eyes all over again, but he wiped them away quickly. Harry took notice of this and spoke up, “I didn’t mean to upset you mate, you don’t have to talk about it. I’m so sorry!” He gave Zayn a look filled with sympathy for the raven-haired boy. As Harry was about to get up, Zayn pulled him down. “If I tell you just don’t run away from me,” he sobbed.

Harry nodded and sat down next to the crying boy, awkwardly trying to calm him. When Zayn’s sobs finally died down, he began to talk. “What did you say?” Harry asked after Zayn’s incoherent mumbling. The Bradford boy wiped his tears, took a deep breath and then began to talk once again, this time much more clearly. “I’m pathetic that’s all. I couldn’t even cherish the one thing that meant everything to me.”