"Don't go in there."
"Don't go in there."
"Don't do it."
"Mike he's gonna do it, it's his house it's logical."
"Don't go-HE WENT IN THERE."
"RUN."
"RUN! YOU HAVE THE BOOK RUN!"
"CRAP SHE FELL."
"GET UP YOU WHORE."
"HE'S COMING!"
"GET UP."
"Mike she got up."
"RUN."
"Mike she's running."
"JUMP!"
"Mike, she jumped."
"WHY ARE YOU LOOKING BACK??"
"JUST RUN YOU IDIOT."
Mike and I are watching the lovely bones.
We're pretty into it.
"SHES HOME!" Mike shouted, throwing his arms in the air.
"OH MY GOSH ITS THE MOM."
"OH GOD YES ITS HAPPENING."
"BUT THE-"
"THE BOOK!"
"OH MY GOD."
"OH NO."
"THERES THE DAD."
"IM GONNA CRY."
"Mike don't cry."
"IM CRYING."
I didn't believe him at first, but I craned my neck to look at him, and he was tearing up.
"My girl." The dad in the movie whispered."
"OH MY GOSH." Mike yelled, burying his face in his hands.
My eyes filled with tears as the dad with the broken leg limped down the stairs.
"SHE STILL HAS THE BOOK." I screamed.
"LOOK ITS GRANDMA."
"GET THE BOOK GRANDMA."
"YOU GO GRANDMA."
"YEAH GRANDMA READ THAT BO- oh look it's the murderer."
"THATS-THATS THE-THE SAFE WITH SUSIE IN IT."
"HES AT THE HOLE."
"OH MY GOD." Mike screamed, eyes wet and never leaving the screen.
"IM GONNA PEE." I got off the squishy couch, walking to the bathroom.
"ITS BRITISH JEW-FRO GUY! AND THE GIRL THAT SEES DEAD PEOPLE!" Mike yelled in the near distance.
I was about to reach the bathroom when there was a knock at the door.
"You must be Paul." I greeted with a smile at the door.
"You must be Louis." He smiled back.
"You ready?" He asked.
"Yeah, let me go change real quick, take a seat." I gestured.
"OH MY GOD ITS THE ASIAN GIRL!" Michael screamed from the living area.
I picked a pair of black skinny jeans that made my bum look awesome, and a sky blue v-neck with black words printed on it that read, 'The Black Keys'
My hair was gelled and I slipped on a random pair of Mike's Chuck Taylor's, since we have the same shoe size.
I checked in the mirror, spraying some thing on to make me smell nice, the shirt was a little tight, making my biceps look larger than they are. And my pants squeezed around my lower back and around my bum, loose at my feet.
"Lets go!" I announced to Paul, walking out the door.
"W-woah." I deadpanned, staring at the car.
"Oh, the ride?" Paul grinned, proud of his auto mobile.
"It's sweet, man." I replied, opening the door to the front seat.
It was a black escalade, leather interior, boomin' bass system.
I love it.
•
•
•
•
•
•
•
We arrived at whatever stadium, seven hours before the show which meant the guys were just hanging out in the dressing rooms.
"Okay, darell will be there to take your pass, which is around your neck, take a right to the backstage, then opening acts, go through there, take two lefts, up the stairs, a right, then down the stairs, there's a room with their logo on it." Paul described.
"Umm....okay." I nodded.
"Okay, any questions just text me, remember you are my cousin." Strictly said. "Don't screw this up, kid. I'm trusting you."
Darrell met me at the door, a guy around his mid twenties, dark skinned and black shaved head, he checked my card, sent me down a hallway, went backstage, made it to the opening acts, took a left, and then was lost.
Four hallways stood in front of me, all leading to different destinations.
I took a right, straight down a hallway with white walls and white floors. After about twenty feet, I heard whimpering, weeping, soft, muffled sobs.
I followed it, into a empty, isolated hallway. I tan male with raven black hair was hunched over on the floor against the wall. His shoulders were shaking rapidly and his sobs were filled with so much emotion it could stop a train.
Oh I knew those tattoos.
I knew that face.
I knew that hair.
That was Zayn Malik, sobbing in a hallway.
I sat in front of him, my knees scrunched to my chest. His face slowly raising to meet my eyes.
"Ummm...hey there." I smiled without showing my teeth. His eyebrows narrowed.
"Hey." His words hit the thin air like a nail and a hammer splitting through wood.
"It's kind if echoey in here." I mused.
"Um- yeah."
"So what's up?" I cocked an eyebrow.
"What does it look like? Dude who even are you?" He spat, but not with anger. Confusion, sadness.
"It just looks like two dudes havin' a conversation. And I'm Louis."
"Mmk, well I'm Zayn." He nodded.
He did something weird next.
His mouth closed, his teeth clenched, his jaw became defined. His eyes slammed shut, his lips moved so fast I couldn't tell what he was saying and he opened his eyes and they were dry.
No trace of tears.
He rolled up his sleeve showing tattoos, his muscles flexed and he opened a box of cigarets.
"I'm supposed to find the one direction dressing room and hang out in there for like six and a half hours, do you know where that is?" I asked.
"Umm...okay, yeah follow me." Zayn chuckled.
After we walked into the four-hall-intersection, he took a left, up some stairs, a right, then down some stairs.
"I'll just be a sec, you can go right in." Zayn waved off.
