Criminal VS. Criminal || мαℓιк

38. Bullet From A Gun

38. Bullet From A Gun

[Trailer By iheartediting1234 on side! It's great!]

[WARNING: MORE SRS BSNS]

   Zayn rushed to my side, oblivious to the bullet that flew past him. While he tried catching my attention, I watched as the bullet hit a metal sheet. It tore through the air, coming towards us. Where is it going? Where is it going? I panicked. And then I realized the answer. It was so simple, it was scary. It was coming towards me. 

   Zayn was a couple feet away, tying Javier up to the treadmill we had. His attention flickered over to me. From the corner of my eye, I saw his eyes widen at my rigid figure. I was usually so calm and prepared. But this time. This time, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what would happen. And to think, all these years I thought I was some sort of big hotshot.

   I was useless. My father only wanted me to help sell drugs. I only went to school so I wouldn't be discovered. I was a worthless piece of shit. Any normal teenager my age would run. But that was thing. Once you released a bullet from a gun, the trouble was endless. Anyone could be blamed for the murder.

    "Noooooo!" 

   It was like everything went on in slow motion. Everything. Zayn's long strides towards me. The pattering of his feet on the ground. My round eyes. And my brain was frozen. It refused to move with my body. And the thought still remains in my head later on. I could've done something. I could've been useful. 

   'Coz all I remember seeing is Zayn's body jumping in front of the bullet. His shoulder jerked back, a sickening pop!, following it. And then Zayn's limp body on the floor. Then I heard screaming. It was loud and sounded like it had been crying. The scream lasted for about thirty seconds before everything around me moved in a blur.

   And I realized I was the one screaming. I was the one crying. I was the one shaking Zayn and begging for him not to leave me by myself.

   I managed to calm myself down and sob beside Zayn. My knees were probably getting scratched because I was kneeling beside him. And I probably looked like a mess. My hands were covered in blood. Zayn's blood. I decided that instead of thinking I could do something I actually did something.  For him. For me. For all of us.

   And the rest happened in a flash. I remember hoisting Zayn up, trying to bite back the sobs when I heard him moaning in pain. I threw his arm around my shoulder and dragged him up the stairs. Out of the house. The murder house. 

   And I didn't look back. Not once. Not ever again.

+ + + 

   And this is usually the part where Zayn wakes up in a hospital and I'm beside him and we have some sappy romance movie moment and make out and admit our love to each other. It would be the perfect ending to any normal love story like ours. He steals my heart and I steal his heart. The perfect crime. 

   Except that didn't happen.

   Zayn was in a hospital, but he wasn't awake.

   He was asleep.

   In a two month coma actually.

   And I tried, I really tried, to visit him every single day. The few times I didn't come, the guilt would eat away at me and I'd spend the whole day after that with him. His skin was pale and his usual model-like hair was a mess. But somehow, someway, he still managed to look beyond perfect in his slumber.

   The doctors didn't know when he would wake up. The bullet hit a lot of nerves in his shoulder and sent his brain into a state of shock. They had to take him out of his room everyday at exactly three in the afternoon and change the wraps around his shoulder. The doctor said he might be healed before he even wakes up. If he even wakes up.

   The boys would visit at least three times a week, comforting me and cuddling me until they left. They couldn't go every time with me because they had their own lives. Girlfriends. Families. Jobs. And meanwhile, I was sitting by a bedside as silent as a mouse.

   In the two months Zayn's been here, I've never once said anything to him. I've talked about him with the boys, but I've never talked to his peaceful figure. I was afraid my voice would bring back memories from the day he got shot and shock his brain again. All I did was sit by his bedside and stare at his face. Once in a while, I mustered up the courage to actually touch him, but that rarely happened.

   On the occasion I did touch him, his skin was ice-cold. Whenever the boys touched his arm, they said he was really warm. And I guess that's why I haven't touched him in three weeks. He reacted differently to my touch than he did to the boys. I guess he brain was petrified of my touch. I guess his brain hated me. I guess he hated me.

   After all, he jumped in front of a bullet from me. I could just imagine his voice when he scolded me. 'Max, Max. Not brave enough to run, are you? Did you need Prince Zayn to come save the day for you? Of course you did, my little rebel.' And I could just imagine the amusing glint in his eyes as he spoke. And the friendly smile that would be on his lips. 

   The doctors said he was most definitely alive, considering he was breathing on his own without life support. They said they'd keep him here until he woke up. He was, after all, a millionaire and could pay for it all. They wouldn't want one of the world's youngest millionaires dying on them. It's not like they cared. They were just in it for the money. They all were.

    The months without Zayn were depressing. Not hearing his voice or his tingling laugh everyday was hard. Not seeing his tongue poke out through his smile was hard. Not having his pointy fingers poke my sides was hard. Not seeing his sparkling eyes was hard. Not seeing him at work was hard. (I basically walked around the building now that Zayn didn't need my assistance.) Everything was hard without Zayn.

   But somehow, everyday, his sleeping figure and quiet breathing were enough to keep me going. Just hearing his heart beep was enough for me. And just seeing the color very, very slowly return to his face was enough. Heck, just being in the same room as him was enough to keep me going for the next three days. Just being in the presence of the 21 year-old man made my day. 

   Because somehow, he was still the 19 year-old boy I fell in love with. 

[Here is the awaited chapter!]

[Amazing trailer on side by iheartediting1234!]

[My friend sent me a link to this girl's Tumblr posts and guys. Read. It. She basically states that all the blame is put on the younger fans and OMFG I love her. Link is on the extrernal link.]

[Enjoy. x]