No matter what I try, I can’t seem to shake this feeling. It’s like a light has been lit, illuminating the darkness that surrounds me. But, I don’t know where the light will lead me, I don’t know what obstacles it will take me through. Big, small, near, far, what is its destination? What will it take me to? I want to run from the light, back into the unknown, but I don’t know what kind of opportunity I will be leaving behind. All my life the darkness has crept closer, stealing my freedom, my happiness, everything that I am, until there was no more light to guide me. So maybe I’ll see what kind of things this light shows me. Will it show me joys or sorrows? Prosperity or pain? I don’t know, so for the moment, I decide to turn to my music.
I unwind my headphones from around my ancient iPod, sticking in the right ear bud first, then the left. I scroll through the cover flow, trying my best to ignore the awkward lull in the ticking. I press the center button randomly, hoping something will blast out that is appropriate for how I’m feeling. My mind wander to exactly what I want to avoid.
I wonder what kind of music he listens to. I frown to myself, pulling my eyebrows together in annoyance. I try to get lost in the music, to hear past the voices and to the instruments. I wonder if he plays any instruments. Does he sing? I shake my head, assuring myself that I’ll never get the answers to my questions. He’s just going to pretend for a while, then disappear I tell myself, but a part of me hopes it isn’t true. I sigh in satisfaction, allowing my mind to return to the music echoing inside my head.
Just stay strong, because you know I’m here for you, I’m here for you.
“Stay strong for me Jezabel.” The words are drawn from my lips like they had fallen from his a few hours ago. Thinking back forces me to realize just how late it is, and how long I’ve been sitting here.
Mom won’t worry. I decide to take my time getting home. I relax my shoulders and take a deep breath, I hold it for a few seconds before slowly releasing the air from my lungs. I swivel around and stretch my legs out, the sound of my converse smacking onto the concrete echoes around the empty rooftop. I glance back out towards the glimmering city lights before turning back around. I take a step back, but my heel just slams into concrete.
“I knew it,” The man before me states, giving me a once over. His voice is accented, much like Zayn’s, but it has a slightly high pitched nasal sound to it.
“Knew what?” I keep my mind blank, waiting for his response.
“Zayn doesn’t usually smoke twice within an hour, and it usually doesn’t make him want to get on twitter.” I instantly conclude that this is one of Zayn’s ‘four best mates’ he had mentioned earlier.
“What’s the big deal about getting on twitter?” The question falls from my mouth before I can think of something better to ask.
“You know, talk to the fans, normally he keeps away from it, not really interested in reading gossip and hate.” His response only causes me to be more confused.
“He told me he has ‘four best mates that help him see the good.’ Who is he to get hate? What fans?” If the ocean of questions in my mind was real, I’d be drowning in it right now.
“Those ‘four best mates,’ are his band mates. He gets hate because he’s in a boy band.” The look on my face must be pretty ridiculous because his mouth opens up into a warm smile.
“I thought pop stars were arrogant,” I comment stupidly.
“Maybe in your country.”
“How did I make him get on twitter?” Maybe I’ll just start counting all the ridiculous things that come out of my mouth.
