Zayn One Shots

We'll Be Better

If there’s errors, you should know by now… I’m lazy and well I’ve got a headache right now :( blah. but Enjoy!

Zayn walked through the door with his suitcase, returning from staying at Liam’s place. We had a fight, again. I called and we made up, again. Our relationship has been nothing but fight after fight, lately. We are close to the end I fear, but I don’t want us to be over. I love him. He’s the love of my life. I’d be nothing without him.  It’s just every little thing gets to us. I hate that he still smokes, he hates that I bite my nails. I hate that he sleeps most of the day, he hates that I watch a lot of reality shows. All those tiny little things about each other are the things ruining us. It’s ridiculous.

“(y/n)” He said, walking into the living room and setting his suitcase down on the floor.

I looked up at him and his eyes were puffy. I’m sure they matched mine. His hair was disheveled. He licked the corners of his lips and walked over to me, where I sat on the couch.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, kneeling down in front of me between my legs.

“Stop.” I said, putting my palms on his cheeks, kissing him softly. “It’s over, we’re better.”

He nodded and sat beside me. His arm soon wrapped around my shoulders and he pushed his lips to my forehead.

“What are you watching?”

“Not sure, some show about weddings.” I said, he sighed. “What?” I asked, pulling his arm over my head to push him away.

“A wedding show? (y/n), really?” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, a wedding show. It’s the closest I’ll get to having a wedding.” I stood up and looked down at him. “Y’know the next best thing is watching someone else getting married, knowing my boyfriend can’t commit.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he yelled standing up to make himself seem like the bigger person.

“You don’t want to marry me. That’s what I mean.” I shouted, getting into his face.

“You’re mental you know that?” he balled his hands into tight fists. “You make me so frustrated. You’re fucking out of your mind.”

“Fuck you, Zayn. Fuck you. You always think I’m the crazy one. You’re the one who thinks I take your cigarettes and break them and throw them away. Maybe you’re just shit at keeping track of things. Or you just don’t realize how many you actually smoke.” I pushed his chest.

“Don’t touch me. (y/n), don’t make me the one that’s at fault here. I’m going to take a shower. Talk to me when you calm down.” He spat, and walked to the bathroom.

 “Zayn Malik.” I yelled, banging on the door. “Don’t expect me to be here when you get out.”

I waited a minute and heard the shower start. The tears hit hard, and I was sobbing as I contemplated what I was really going to do. I went to the living and shut the TV off. I went in the kitchen and took all of my food from the cabinets and hid them in the garage. I took his suitcase and dumped the clothes out on the carpet, and headed to our room. I took all of my clothes out of the dresser and use his and my suitcases to pack them away into the attic. I put all of my things out of the master bathroom and stuffed them under the bed. After I got rid of all the evidence of me ever living there, I moved my car down the block. When I returned to the house, I went to the backdoor and quietly went back in, then hid in the coat closet. I wanted to leave, but I could never do that. If he was going to act like he didn’t care if I was gone or not, I was going to show him how empty his house would be if I really was gone. I heard the bathroom door open and his feet pounding up the stairs. My name being called echoed throughout the entire house. I heard him walking up and down the stairs searching for me. The kitchen cabinets being slammed shut, the dresser drawers rattled, and the front door banged closed. I heard him mumble fuck over and over and he realized all my stuff was gone, well hidden. 

“(y/n), please. Don’t really be gone.” I heard him sob.

Then, I felt my phone buzz. It was him. I answered but didn’t say anything.

“I’m up in our room and all of your stuff is gone. Did you really leave? You’re really leaving me. You took everything.”

“Not everything.”

“What?”

“I left my coat in the closet. Can you get it out for me, my friend will come get it.”

“(y/n).” he sighed. “You come get it.”

“Zayn, just get my coat out.”

I heard his steps as he flew down the stairs.

“(y/n)?” he asked catching his breath. “Did you hang up?” he was turning the knob on the door. “Are you still there?”

He opened the door and he was watching his feet, with his cell pressed against his ear.

“I’m still here.” he looked up.

He dropped hs phone and lifted me into a hug, pulling me from the closet.

“Don’t ever fucking leave me. I swear. Don’t ever do that. I love you. I need you. I don’t care that you watch shitting shows or bite you nails or leave your toothpaste tube on the sink or leave dishes in the dishwasher for too long. I love more about you than I hate. I don’t care about any of the shit. I love you and your tiny little habits that I shouldn’t be bothered by. I promise we’ll be better. I’ll be better.”

“Zayn.” I hushed him. “Stop it. I get it and I’ll forget all your habits, if you forget mine. I just didn’t like that you didn’t care that I would be gone, but you did care. I just didn’t see it.” I wiped a tear from his cheek with my thumb.

“I don’t show I love you enough, that’s why” he looked down.

“We’ll both be better from now on. Okay?”

He gulped and nodded. I hugged him tightly with my head on his chest.

“I didn’t mean anything I said. About getting married and your commitment and stuff. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, you might have been right, but I’ll change. We’ll get married eventually, just not right now. We need more time.” He said while he combed his fingers through my hair and I rubbed his back.

“We’ll be better now?” I asked

“Yeah, we’ll be much better.”

FEEDBACK GUYS! like fo rizzles!

-Em xx