When Two Bad Boys Collide: Zustin Friendship

Let's get you home

*Justin's POV*
"Hey man you don't look so good," I said to Zayn. He looked like he ran a marathon. "What did you take?"
"Xanax," he managed to say.
His eyes looked all over the place. I could tell he needed and wanted to go home.
"Hey, Travis," I called.
My boy, Travis, came into the scene.
"He needs to go home, he took something. Help me get him up."
We carried him out the club; he was heavier than I imagined.
People kept taking pictures.
We got him to the limo.
"Hold up," Travis said. "We don't know where this nigga live."
"Let's ask him," I suggested. "Zayn where do you live?"
"Yeah, let's ask the high guy where he lives," Travis said. "and end up taking him to a murderer's house."
Surprisingly, Zayn managed to tell us his address.
I copied it onto my phone.
"Alright step on it!" I ordered the driver.
We drove into the colorful city with the color orange beaming on us from the street lights.
I hope he would be okay. He's probably saddened from his break up with Gigi.
About 30 minutes later, we arrived at a white mansion.
"Alright, let's get him to bed and go back to party," Travis said.
We picked him up and made a long walk to his house. His sweat got onto us.
We rang the doorbell.
"Do you have any maids or anything?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
No one answered.
"No lights are on," Travis said. "He must live alone."
"Get his keys."
"Nigga you got hands, too," Travis snapped.
I rolled my eyes and looked for the keys, found them, and jiggled them into the door.
"We're in."
As I opened the door, we turned the light on.
Woah.....
Everything was smashed and broken. It looked like two Macho Men got into a fight.
"Where's your room, Zayn?" I asked.
Zayn groaned.
"Come on, nigga, answer," Travis said. "We gotta get you to your be-"

"WHO'S THERE?!?!?"

My gasped.
A woman in her 50's marched into the room in her robe, holding a bat. Crap. She's gonna think we're intruders.
"What are you doing to him??"
I tried to explain. "He took something and we just wanted to get him home."
"Put him down! Get out!"
We shrugged, sat him onto the couch, and left. Hopefully the maid will take it from there. We got onto the limo and headed back to the club. I hoped that Zayn was okay.