True [Zayn Malik AU]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The tiny puddles of water formed due to the incessant rain all afternoon disperesed along the way, as those four wheels advanced towards their destination with ease. The drive was a luxuriously smooth one, the surroundings mute and tranquil, but his mind was in the most contrasting of conditions to the environment's.

A day prior

“Bhaiya, don’t leave,” Little Safaa pleaded her elder brother, the insistence being the only means of convincing him to stay back. The little girl had however, pretty much apprehended what was to occur, considering the fact that her darling brother had been turning down each and every one of their pleas and demands for explanations since the last one hour. Her favourite cuddly teddy bear slipped out of her grip and onto the carpeted floor beneath as she raised her hands to wipe off the seamless droplets that trickled all the way down her chubby cheeks.

“I love you,” Planting a kiss onto the crying girl’s forehead, her brother turned away to her much disappointment.

Not a single glance was stolen by him to look back at his dismayed mother and despairing sisters, all of whom were hoping he’d turn back around and not do what he intended to, but their hopes were present only so they could be demolished.

The strap of the huge bag over his shoulder was readjusted a final time, as he fought against the tears, preventing them from trickling down his perfectly carved cheeks. A gentle twist at the door knob followed, as the door swung open allowing him to step out of their small, but wonderfully cosy and warm home.

The wooden door was slammed shut against its frame, his heart impulsively doing the same against his chest.

Present

“Take a left,” An unfamiliar thick voice flowed out of his tiny earpiece, snapping the boy back to reality.

“Did,” He quickly responded, fluttering his eyelids to get rid of the unneeded moisture in his eyes that had begun to blur his vision.

“Alright now keep goin’ straight, until I tell you to stop.” The man ordered. 

Following the instruction assigned to him, the boy advanced ahead, the skidding of the four-wheeler against the grey pavement being the only sound to fill the silent night streets of London. The tiny puddles of water that had been formed due to the incessant rain all afternoon disperesed along the way as the posh vehicle advanced towards its destination with ease.

The aristocratic vibes around was something definitely new and quite clearly absent in those old streets of Bradford, that he had left behind. Zayn, as he was to be called as, had his old inexpensive bike replaced by a stylish red Camaro. His initial disapprovement of substituting his old secondhand Honda Vario with this brand new load of expense had been altered shortly, or to be more accurate, forcefully. But driving this, in place of the old beater, as his sisters liked to refer to the bike as, was quite a treat indeed, he reckoned.