Saving You (Ziall)

Hi guys, I hope to remain anonymous for the time being and maybe I will reveal myself later on:) and I've just started working on this story, and obviously it's about ziall so I hope you all enjoy! I've written some background info first so read if you want there isn't anything you won't find out later on hah so hope you're having a great day and if you stumbled upon this, feel free to leave feedback! Thanks loads x

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"The Call"

Pairing: Ziall

Characters- Zayn, the twenty-three year-old, tall, dark, and incredibly handsome biker - well-known in his hometown of Bradford as the typical "bad boy" moves to Mullingar in hopes of launching his career as an anonymous artist in order to keep his image. Zayn tends to be overprotective and over affectionate with his partners. Although he puts on a bad boy image, Zayn is a humble and shy guy.

Niall, the cute little eighteen-year old boy everyone grew up with in Mullingar. Known for his sweet and why persona, his love for learning and for being the go-to guy on campus when you need help. Very smart, and very shy.

Summary- Zayn is willing do to whatever it takes to protect what belongs to him, and him only.

AU- (not famous)

Based (loosely) on- "The Call" by Backstreet Boys

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The smell of death, dust and cobwebs surrounded him. From what he could tell, there was a single light in the centre of the room, and he guided himself to it using the light from his phone. He reached up and tugged the string and the dim light flickered a few times before it turned on. He made a mental note to himself to buy a new one, a brighter one.

Observing his surroundings, Zayn found the walls were once covered in striped grey wallpaper, there was a leak in the ceiling, there were a few dozen canvases of all sizes stacked neatly in the right corner of the small room and a bucket of white paint. It smelled like cement and was quiet, apart from the faint drips of water about every four seconds. There was an oversized closet, a room, no windows and a washroom as well. It was hideous, small, and needed work.

But it was his.

And naturally, he fell in love with it.

Placing his hands on his hips, he gave it once last good look and made a note to himself on what he'd need to patch it up.

Taking his keys out of his pocket, loving the way the new keys clinked against each other, he shut the light off and locked his studio up. He raced up the stairwell, to his car, and pulled out of the lot and onto the unfamiliar roads of Mullingar.

Zayn had been searching for many years now to find a place where he could start over. He contemplated leaving Bradford since he was seventeen after finishing Grade 12, and finally headed out now that he was twenty-three. He looked around for a 'getaway' for almost six years. He searched for a home in London, but decided against it after he thought of how loud it'd be. He searched in Manchester, but didn't like it. He searched in France, he searched in Italy, in Poland. He searched all over Europe, Australia, and hell, he even searched in The States.

And finally, when his map was full of X's, he found himself staring at the tiny island of Ireland, and his finger landed smack-dab in the centre.

Mullingar.

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"That'll be all then?" The loud, gum-smacker, dumb blond cashier asked me with her high voice.

I nodded, not bothering to look her in the eye.

"Alright, your total is eighty-four pounds even."