faded

6.0 - WRONG

a/n - song in the media. says a lot about Ana & Zayn.

"Why do you hate your father?" a lady dressed in a stylish, green pantsuit sits across from me on a chair.

I stare at her for a moment, trying to control my quivering lip and shaky hands. I feel uncomfortable. I don't like coming here to talk to a stranger every Thursday, but Melinda says my dad won't take no for an answer. Wouldn't be the first time. I just wish I could have choices. Why don't I? All the girls at school think I'm weird and I don't have anyone to talk to, except my dad's employees and I don't talk to them much.

"Has your father ever tried touching you?"

I just stare at her. She knows I'm not answering. Why would I? 

Sigh. "Why don't you wanna talk to me?"

"Because I don't trust you."

"I just want to help you, Anastasia."

I wrap my arms around myself and stare down at the carpeted floor. I don't want to be here but I know what waits for me at home if she tells my dad I refuse to cooperate. I don't even know why I'm here, why does my dad care if I talk or if I'm depressed? If I was, what would he do? Nothing. Just send someone else to take care of me. 

"I don't wanna be here," I finally say. "you don't wanna help me, you wanna get paid."

"You seem to have a particular disliking for all the therapists who've tried to help you. They've all been women, haven't they?"

"Sure."

My therapist eyes me for a moment. "Anything to do with your mother?"

"No."

"Your file says your 13, do you have friends your age?"

Her question is strange. I don't know why she asks meaningless things as if they're gonna help her figure out what's wrong.

"Not really," I shrug.

She loosens up, probably thankful I'm opening up. "Why not?"

I see her write something down in the notepad next to her on the table.

"I don't know. And I don't care."

"Do you think it has anything to do with what happened when you were younger?"

How would she know about that? "No and what happened doesn't matter either."

"Who told you that?" She frowns. "Maybe talking about it will make you feel better."

I raised a brow, uncomfortable in my own skin. "I really doubt it."

-

Zayn watched me put the joint between my lips, lighting it for me. I took a long, burning drag, holding in the smoke for a few seconds before exhaling. He did the same with his, and we seemed to do that for the longest time, our sneaky glances at each other not easy to hide after two or three joints. I could feel myself growing warm, the temperature in the apartment was fresh because of the open window. 

His eyes were sunken- low and red as a strawberry, bigger than the moon. I threw the baggie on the coffee table, putting my arm around him instead. This incredible feeling of peace and warmth came over me, but I knew it was just because of how he made me feel. 

We had stopped by my house to get a few things, though Zayn assured me Liam would go get the rest of it. While we were in my room he spotted the bag of joints and a couple of bottles, but he didn't react as angrily as I expected. Instead, he put them in my backpack and assured me that they'd be of use later.

When we got to his place, I felt it all rush back to me. Months worth of feelings surfaced, and I had to take a minute to scope the place out so I could know it was all very real. He just watched me. Our room was surprisingly clean and it looked like no one had slept there in so long, due to the locked door and empty closet.

Zayn told me he slept on the couch with the TV on or not at all.

My feelings of security were fleeting and were bound to not return. Lately, that happened a lot. It almost felt like I wasn't real enough to feel or I just couldn't get drunk enough to feel like I was living my own life. Was it like dissociation? I didn't even dream anymore, my thoughts only wandered at night, and when I was able to get sleep, it was entirely dreamless. I hoped this would all go away with Zayn next to me. I didn't wanna keep feeling like a stranger in my own head.

"I was scared I'd never see you again," I whispered, playing with his fingers. "I feel like I wasted your time by leaving and coming back, like I always do."

He frowned. "Stop. You know I don't feel that way."

I licked my lips. "So much trouble for me.."

Her eyes search mine, eyebrows furrowed only slightly. "I'm the one who's sorry."

I knew what he was talking about and decided not to dwell on it too long. "I don't wanna talk about that."

Zayn allows me to place my hands on his face, cupping his cheeks. I run my thumb softly against his clean jawline, praying he'll inch closer. 

"I'm scared you'll hurt me," I murmur, his uneven breaths made my heartbeat sound immense in my ears.

"I really don't want to hurt you, Ana. I don't."

I've had him this close before, but it seems like this time we're different. The way Zayn looks at me is like nothing I've ever known before, I never noticed. He looks at me like I'm the only girl that exists for him, and I guess that's what I've always wanted, but it makes me feel unsure I can be what he needs or expects me to be.

He puts her hand over mine. "You know I love you."

"I love you," I responded confidently, "those feelings haven't changed."

"Eventually things will change, Ana, you know that," he says quietly, looking into my eyes, "you and I don't have to."

I can hear my heart beating in my ears. His sleepy, low eyes were sad, just as sad as they always were, even when there was a reason for them to light up. Z just looked at me, not saying anything else and probably unsure of what to say at all.

I inched my face closer to his, waiting to see if he'd back away. When he didn't, I pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, just as I had done so many times before. This time was different, like everything that existed between us was. The room was coated in pale gray smoke, the feeling tingling on my lips felt a lot like an invisible pull coming from his own mouth.

I pressed my lips to his, without thinking of the past I so desperately wanted to hide from him and he so desperately wanted to talk about. None of that mattered as I felt myself tangle into his arms, his arms snaking around my waist and his hand on my thigh. But his mouth, his saccharine tongue laced with my own needy one. There was a desperate, resplendent aura hanging thick over us like a winter blanket. My hands tangled in his hair, my bottom lip victim of his teeth. How can I explain what I felt when he kissed me again? Maybe for once I felt like I had found something permanent, despite our relationship being so rocky and unstable. My mind went blank when he pulled away, heavy breath and flushed cheeks prominent on both of us. Zayn just looked at me , like she couldn't believe that what had just happened did happen. Like he couldn't believe I was really here.

He pressed his forehead to mine, "You aren't getting away this time, I promise."

"I don't wanna go anywhere."