Ordained

"Zayn, calm down. Everything will be ok." The more i tried to comfort him, the more stubborn he became. I was beginning to worry. 

Zayn let out a shaky breath, his eyes flickering to everything in front of him. 

"Zayn.." I said softly, taking his hand. He flinched as i did so, so jumpy and afraid he was going to loose his mind. "The more you panic, the more you're going to freak out. Calm down, babe." I cooed, running my thumb over his knuckles. He seemed to relax a little, but suddenly his breathing became unsteady again. 

"Freak out?" He snapped, absentmindedly. "Freak out? Orla, i'm already freaking out." He shook his head, prying my closed hand from his, running his now free palm through his quiff. "This could end very, very badly for me-" He paused looking around again. "how are you not freaking out right now? I can't stop shaking, what is happening? I think i see the light!"

"Zayn that's the sun, babe." I pouted at my frightened boyfriend, sympathy obvious in my eyes as i watched him try to compose himself. "Zayn, you're only meeting my parents." 

"Only- only meeting your parents? I've never met them and they already hate my guts!" 

"That's not true, Zayn." I scolded. "If anyone has to be afraid of them hating one of us, it's me. I ran away, i drove without a real licence, argued with them and disobeyed them all within one week. They're my mum and dad, they're more likely to lecture me than they are you." 

"You wouldn't have done all of that if it wasn't for me." Zayn muttered in a barely audible whisper, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel finally gaining his composure. The house was only a few meters away, my parents were inside it, probably standing behind the front door awaiting a knock or a ring of the bell. They insisted they met Zayn as soon as possible so they could see for themselves the young man who stole my heart and at least half of my sanity within the very few months of living in a new city. I let out a sigh, in a way, he was right, but the decisions i made were mine to make.  

"That's true. But i made those choices. I didn't have to run away like that and make reckless decisions just to be with you. I did it because i wanted to." I smiled genuinely, taking his hand in mine and feeling a little bit more triumphant when he intertwined our fingers as if they were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. A perfect fit. Slowly but gradually, we were enveloped in silence. 

In a way, i was quite afraid, i just didn't want Zayn to know that. Zayn isn't the type of guy my parents would want me to be with, let alone throw away future success for the pleasure of being with a stereotypical bad boy that finally learned how to love. 

Zayn has tattoos.

He has a criminal record.

He smokes.

He drinks.

He gets around..he used to do that.

Comparing him to the men my parents would rather me be with- Zayn is Satan. But even through his sometimes intimidating appearence, i loved him for who he is. Tattoos or not; he's still a sweetheart when the mood is right-which was near enough all the time.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Orla." Zayn mumbled carefully, no longer hiding the small amount of fear in his eyes as he stared at me worriedly. My heart sank, he looked so fragile and so lost. It was obvious he hadn't been in this situation before.

"Bad feelings cause bad moods. Don't let that get to you, i'm sure things will go smoothly if you allow them too, don't be so easily intimidated. You're more intimidating than them put together." That's a lie. They scare the hell out of me when they're mad. 

Zayn scoffed, shaking his head again. "If i drove all this way just to be thrown out after five minutes of meeting the Morgans i will not be happy." We both let out a low chuckle, lighting the mood to a certain content that got us both confident enough to step out of my car, and onto the pathway leading to the front door of my parents new Scottish villa. We stood side by side, just staring at the house surrounded by flowers and ivy.

"We can do this." I breathed.

"Yeah.." Zayn insecurely replied. He looked smart, denim jacket, white t-shirt and jeans, suited with some white high tops. He didn't look scruffy, nor did he look over done, he looked perfect. Plus; he smelt amazing. 

"Hey," I slid my hand into his, tearing his gaze from the villa. "Together, ok?" 

"What if they hate me, and they won't allow us to-" I quickly pressed a finger over his lips before placing a gently kiss over them in reassurance. I still felt the butterflies every time.

With a mirrored smile, i squeezed his hand tighter and said, "That won't happen. I won't allow it." I meant every word.