war zone || zayn malik

Chapter Five: Delicate

a/n || firstly, i wanted to apologize for uploading this chapter after a while -- and trust me I know it's horrible to upload do far after i published the last chapter. i've been really fed up and busy and so lately, i've had the time to be writing again and i've been getting back into the habit. so i hope you enjoy this chapter because i thorougly enjoyed writing war zone again :) ||

I woke up in Georgia’s bed with her on the side of me, slightly letting out soft snores as her red hair was messily lying on the pillow below her. I lifted myself off the bed and headed to her bathroom to take a shower. I told Georgia everything that happened last night, from Zayn – to my father and she was in disbelief the whole time. My father was really observing everything I did to quite an extent; it was aggravating me an enormous amount; to the point where I couldn’t even handle it. It’s like as if his trust was being washed away from me each day; dimming it down almost completely like it was never there.

I’m pretty positive my father has no trust in me, lacking of any respect he once held for thee and ruining every pit of any social aspect I had. I no longer have any freedom – it disappeared, shattered really. A complete and utter realization hit me. I didn’t know if it was positive, but an assumption could never hurt, am I correct? Maybe it was Zayn who left him to pity me, and not having any truce because of his appearance – maybe the way Zayn presented himself amongst others brought my father some type of anger he never had before, like Zayn was going to taint me. After all, his appearance even threw me off guard, with his constant leather apparel and the black ink that scattered across his body – now I no longer blame my father.

But he needs to realize that his little girl – is finally growing up.

Once I was finished up with the warm morning shower, I stepped out and quickly redressed myself. Georgia was still sound asleep on her bed, thus it was only seven in the morning; but I had to head back home. It was a long, early walk back to my house since I didn’t have a car nor a ride; and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t want to ask my dad or Klein to drive me at this time since I’m so dreadfully pissed at both of them.

About an hour later, I finally made it to my house and quietly walked through the front door and up to my stairs, trying extra hard not to make any sudden sound. I wanted to stay home today, I didn’t feel like going into school – I didn’t have the energy or the want. But for some reason, something or someone is urging me to go; so I did.

Finally, I made it to school by taking the bus. Walking into the front doors, everyone was in their little desired ‘clique’ groups crowding the hallway already. I pushed my way through forcefully, trying to make it to my locker. Luckily, Georgia was already there waiting for me. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Alex?” Her tone was smart as she leaned all her weight on one leg.

“You left me! I woke up and you were gone! If this is what a one night stand feels like – I don’t know what to do then.” She threw her hands in the air angrily and I laughed rather loudly. “Shut up.” I told her jokingly enough so she would catch the hint I wasn’t being serious. We chatted for a bit before the first period bell rang, and I made my way up to history. Zayn sat in the back with his usual journal that he carried everywhere, and no other school supply. I smiled warmly at his figure as he returned the gesture.

“Hey,” he blandly said to me as I sat next to him. I greeted him and began to give my attention towards the teacher. “So the class projects are due in two days. I expect everyone to hand it in on time with the rubric that I passed around. Each day it is late; it’s an immediate determination of ten points.” The teacher announced to the class loudly to get the point across the room. Zayn then turned to me with a puzzled look on his face.

“Are we allowed to do the project today?” He asked me and I was worried. Whether or not I should lie to my parents, more so my dad, or just tell them I was in fact going to do my project with Zayn. Either way, I would get incredibly busted. “Yeah, you can come over my place.” I spoke up the nerve to invite him over again – and I thought for a quick second; what if Zayn were to stay for dinner with my family? Maybe he could put a bright and influential first impression on them and maybe get their approvals.

“Sounds fantastic to me.” His cheeky grin stood out to me as his brown eyes lightly gleamed in the light. I smiled back at him slightly as I twirled a piece of my hair in my fingers nonchalantly.

Knowingly enough, I knew neither my father nor mother would be home once I got to the house; my father being at work and my mother dillydallying across town; but only my brother would be there. Making my way into the front door, I saw my brother perched on the couch like usual and I sat right next to him, as Zayn followed and sat on the chair across from the plaid couch. I didn’t really approach the subject matter to Zayn that he was staying for diner with my family, I was afraid it would startle him.

I turned to my brother in a peaceful matter. “Now listen,” I started as he looked at me with his arms crossed, “Zayn is staying for dinner with us and I want you to respect him.” I looked over to Zayn whose eyes were wider than usual, probably determined that he was going to ultimately be afraid at tonight’s dinner, but it didn’t bother me.

“You know dad won’t like this idea you have planned.” He tried to convince me but I laughed slightly. “I don’t care what dad thinks.” And by that last word I said, Klein gave me a look that showed a mixture between crazy, good luck and insulted.

My father than arrived home and noticed that all Zayn, Klein and I were sitting on the couch just watching some television. “Why is he here?” My dad gruesomely said, oblivious to any manners that he had taught me and Klein over our tween years.

“He’s staying for dinner.” I obliged, standing my grounds as my mother followed him in with grocery bags piled all on her fore arms. “You wouldn’t believe that your father is making me carry—Oh, hello.” She stopped at her trace, eyeing Zayn in a more friendly matter than what my father was. My mother ignored the fact he was here and made her way over to the kitchen to unload all the groceries.

“You never asked me.” My father told me, taking off his jacket while hanging it up on the coat hanger beside the door. “I don’t have to.” I argued back at him as his look filled with utter anger.

“Listen, Alex, I know you’re going through your more rebellious years; but I’m still your father and I get a say and do on what things happen in this house.” He stood his ground as well, his face becoming red with anger as Zayn sat beside me in shock. He was clueless, didn’t know whether neither to say anything nor to do anything – so he sat there, pondering of ideas and kept his eyes on his lap.

“Dad, please just listen to me! He’s a—“

“Alex! Enough! This is unacceptable under any circumstances. You’re disobeying my rules, lately!” He growled at me, furious, more likely disappointed in my actions. I stood there and looked down at my feet as a tear escaped and rolled down my cheek slowly.

“I’m – I’m sorry…” I mumbled. I wanted to stand there and fight back. But I couldn’t.

I just – couldn’t.