Saving You (Ziall)

The Canvas

Hi guys :((( so I don't know if any of yous read the update this week but ive just noticed that wattpad basically deleted the whole thing so I have to re-write it from memory and im so so so upset because I'd worked so hard on it and now it's not going to be the same but I hope you like it anyway ://

--BUT IF YOU DID GET TO READ IT, PLEASE ERASE IT FROM YOUR HEAD BECAUSE I ADDED IN A SPECIAL TWIST--

Love yous all thanks for ur support x

Enjoy ! x

--

Small beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and onto my already-sweat-soaked t-shirt.

I hadn't done this in a while: painted until it physically pained me to pick up a brush.

I'd started it nearly six hours ago.

And if I didn't eat anything soon, I was sure I would die. So, I quickly fixed myself something, scarfed it down and walked back to my canvas to study it.

And I lost myself in it.

--

*beep, beep, beep!*

In one swift movement, I hopped out of bed, unplugged the alarm clock and ran to the wash room.

I dunked my hair in the sink, blow dried it and styled it.

I pulled on my newest pair of black jeans, my Dr Martens, a tank top and jacket.

After grabbing a quick bite to eat, I gathered my portfolio, sorted it, and took my canvas out to my jeep.

It was early, but I decided it's better to be early than late.

--

"Zayn! You're right on time. He's just finished his class. Here I'll introduce you," the boy from yesterday told me.

I felt a rush of embarassment, because his name had slipped my mind. So, I just smiled.

He led me into the room and called the professor's attention.

"Professor! You've got a visitor."

"Let 'im in," the man answered with a deep, raspy voice.

He gave me a small nudge and smiled before turning out the door.

"Hello, sir."

The professor turned to me and I stumbled back.

Why he must've been my age!

His sharp green eyes flickered and his lips turned into a warm smile.

"How old are you?" I slipped and nearly slapped myself. This already wasn't going well.

But he laughed, and I instantly felt better.

"I'm twenty-four," he smiled.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Professor Styles. But you can call me Harry."

"I'm Zayn, Zayn Malik."

"Hello, Zayn. What can I do for you today?"

"I was wondering . . . if you could, er, take a look at my . . . my work and er, maybe allow me to join your class?"

"Give it here," he smiled.

He clearly wasn't Irish, in fact he sounded English, but not like me . . . more posh than I.

I handed him my portfolio.

He flipped through the first few pages and not once did his facial expression change.