How It All Fell Into Place.. (Zerrie story)

Michael's Flashbacks

Michael's P.O.V

I was honestly hoping that while Zayn was in hospital, Perrie would be at home with me. But no, she had to be by his side for two whole bloody months. Those times she did come home, I tried to talk to her, but she shook her head and went upstairs. I know she was hurting but did she have to ignore me like that? I am deeply hurt.

I got a text message about a week after Zayn was admitted to hospital. It read:

Dear friend, we have done our part of the deal. You do your very best to succeed in what you say you do well. We are giving you six months to complete this task. Succeed and you'll be rewarded, with the girl of course. Fail; we'll have to kill you. You are the very best in this organization. It would be such a shame to lose you, so soon as well. Do not fail us again, Michael.

OK, I knew was I was doing from the start. To be honest, I didn't know I had to do this. I didn't even want to be apart of this whole scheme, but as soon as Perrie's name came into the conversation(stated as Ms Edwards of course), I knew I had to if I wanted to get closer to her again. Too bad she's gotten that, that thing for a boyfriend. I was so much better for her. What I was hoping for was two months alone with Perrie. What I got, was two months alone by myself.

*****

"Go away, Michael! Seriously can't a girl have some peace?" Perrie's voice rang through the door. It was the first time she had come home from the hospital and I wanted to use this chance to talk to her, that didn't happen of course.

"Perrie, I just want to talk!" I insisted, trying to convince her to open the door. It was five minutes later that she did, with a backpack full of god knows what. She had showered and had done her hair and makeup, and she was dressed into another pair of trackies and another one of Zayn's jumpers. I internally rolled my eyes at that and smiled at her.

"What do you want, Michael?" She spat. I've never seen her so pissed off, but I guess that's understandable.

"I-I just want to talk to you! You're never around anymore and you always ignore my texts and calls and it's kind of worrying!" I say to her, running my hands through my hair.

"Well, sorry. I'm sorry my boyfriend got beaten up. I'm sorry I'm being a good girlfriend and staying by his side. I'm sorry that I have better things, and people, to worry about!" She yelled in my face, then stormed out the door. I moved myself back onto the couch where I was previously, before looking through my phone. There wasn't much else I could do. I had just screwed up one of my chances.

*****

The second time Perrie came home, she had a glint of hope in her eyes and looked much more brighter than the last time. I was sitting on the couch playing FIFA when she came in.

"You bastard! That was a foul! Can't you fucking see what's going on!?" I scream at the T.V, not noticing that Perrie was there. I know, I know, look at me. I'm screaming at a video game umpire, but what 20 year old doesn't?

"Having fun?"

My eyes dart up, and then I notice her. I pause my game and stand up, stretched and walked over to her.

"Yeah, why? Can't a man enjoy two months alone in a house?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning against the door frame. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"I suppose. But surely you have other, better, things to do?" She asked. I shook my head.

"Well, sorry. I'm sorry that I don't have a girlfriend to keep me company. I'm sorry that I was left in your house alone for a month, bored out of my brains. I'm sorry that I have nothing better to do than to play video games all the time!" I say, straight-faced, mimicking the structure of her words the first time she came home. She rolled her eyes and mumbled, "Immature" before going upstairs. Oh, I see how it is. Just because I'm a bloody man means I'm the immature one? Oh, excuse me darling but I was only copying you. Guess we're all a little immature sometimes, huh.

*****

When she came home the third time, she bought Zayn with her. I knew I had fucked up my chances of talking to her on her last visits. I looked at Zayn and started saying things to him like;

"I'm so sorry that happened to you mate!"

"Are you OK? Wait no that's a dumb question."

"What did you break?"

But he just shrugged me off. Well, OK then motherfucker. We'll play it your way. I dialled a few numbers to my favourite T.V station, ABC News. OK, it's not really my favourite T.V station but my friend works there so it'll easily get onto tonight's news.

"Hello, this is ABC News reporter Brendan McKay, who am I speaking to?"

"Hey buddy. It's your old friend Michael. What's up?"

"Look, Michael. Unless this is an important call or you've got some kind of scoop for tonight's news, I'm kind of busy."

"Oh, how ironic Brendan. I do have a scoop for tonight's news."

There was a short pause before he spoke again.

"This better be good Michael. Spill."

So I told him.

*****

That's how I ended up against the wall with Zayn strangling me. Well, kind of strangling me, you know, with the crutches and all. I was just sitting in my room, playing some guitar, when he called me down oh so sweetly. I smirked to myself before placing my guitar back in its spot and going downstairs, or tried to at least. Seems Zayn Malik's foot has been improving. I stood still, watching in amusement. Seeing one fifth of the worlds biggest boy band struggle with crutches is actually kind of funny. Once he reached me, he threw down his crutches and slammed me against the wall, forearm on my neck applying slight pressure.

"Why the fuck would you call the news? The news!" He snarled in my face.

"Well, you see Zayn. Not everyone is a famous pop star like you. We other people have to make our own money somehow you know." I smirked, watching his face twist up with anger.

"Yeah I know! Why did you call the news station? For crying out loud!" He yelled.

I shrugged and said, "I was just helping out an old friend. You know, helping him keep his job and all." Before I pushed him off of me, and walking downstairs. I went into the kitchen, where everyone was. When I mean everyone, I mean Liam, Louis, Niall, Harry, Perrie, Debbie and Tricia. It's like they were having a fucking meeting in there. They all eyed me while I got down a glass and filled it with water. Slowly taking sips, I eyed everyone back.

"What?" I snapped, putting my glass onto the island counter.

"Michael, we think it'd be best for everyone if you left." Debbie said quietly.

"What? Why?" I asked.

"Well, we feel as though you've been here long enough. I mean, don't you have a family that you need to be with? Wont they be missing you?" Perrie said, softly. I flinched at the 'family' part. Since I don't have any left.

"No, no I don't." I said. I finished my glass of water and went upstairs to my 'room'. I grabbed my backpack and shoved the clothes that I'd bought here in it. I zipped everything up, before going over to my guitar. I put that in its case and closed it, zipping that up as well. I grabbed both things and went downstairs, and out the front door without looking back.

If they don't want me there ,fine. But they should be warned, I will be back. With company.

(A/N- Hey y'all! Thought you'd might like to read into Michael's thoughts some more, and give you some more insight of what he did when Zayn was in hospital, and what happened when Perrie came home. OoOoOo what's Michael's plans for Perrie and the boys? Maybe you should tell me some ideas, and I might use them! :)  Hope you're all liking this story, because I sure am! Peace.)