Predators Eye

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Zayn wasn't a believer in fairytales. In fact, he didn't understand them. They were all so generic and repetitive that he got bored with the same, telltale story of the prince finding his princess and saving her from an evil family member or person of some sorts.

Maybe he would like them more if they were a bit realistic. Love didn't come SO easily. Attraction did, but not love. Why didn't they show the battle, the struggle and grief that came with falling head over heels for someone? Because if they did, the story wouldn't sell.

Then again, he was a realist. He butchered a lot of the usual beliefs and stories people had grown up with, because it just didn't make sense to him. It pissed his bandmates off to no end, but saved their asses multiple times too. In the end, Zayn learned to keep his mouth shut and express his overly common sense driven thoughts and opinions with a pen and paper.

His sketchbook became his life. If he was ever angry, upset, annoyed, confused, or even just his usual happy and thoughtful self, he took to his colored pencils and created whatever image came to his head at that particular moment. Sometimes it would take him weeks to finish, or just a few hours. Either way, he had gone through at least six sketchbooks in his lifetime, all of them he kept in a little cabinet at his house back in England. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't throw them away. Sometimes he'd go back and admire - or cringe - at his past creations, just to see how much he had grown. It was like his little diary, except in a more cryptic and symbolic sense, which is how he liked things to be.

He set down his black pencil, blinking in shock once he noticed what he had just formed. Normally, his mind went blank while drawing, his own hand created simple caricatures or graffitti designs. But this time, it was a portrait. Zayn never made portraits because to him, it was a bit weird to flip through pages of his sketchbooks and to see a random face appear. It always startled him.

What Zayn drew were his thoughts that were expressed in an artistic form (in grafitti and more airbrushed effects), so he was even more surprised when it was the face of a girl on the paper. He hadn't been conciously thinking of a girl in the past 24 hours, why did he draw her if he didn't have any reason to?

She had long, dark brown hair that flowed naturally around her heart shaped face, full lips were pulled into a bright smile, the happiness seemed to radiate off of her. Zayn examined the drawing closely, his scrutinizing gaze noticed her eyes instantly. They looked sad, lonely and a tad bit scared. What surprised him even more is how she resembled someone, but he couldn't quite figure out who.

Unsettled, he ripped out the paper and crumpled it up, launching it into the bin, glancing off the edge of the metal and rolled under the legs of the nearby dresser. Sighing, he ignored the miss and swung his legs out of bed, running a hand through his unstyled hair. It was almost noon and he knew his cousin, Tanya, would have a heart attack if he wasn't at her place by 1.

The whole reason why Zayn was in Moscow was because of Tanya. She was due to marry a Russian businessman in three months, and since Zayn was on break with the band, he figured it would be a perfect time to spend more time with his cousin, nephew and niece. But, Tanya was already in full bridezilla form, and Zayn was seriously second-guessing his decision. Tanya was a very nice person, but did not handle stress well.

Zayn grabbed a pair of black jeans from his suitcase that he still had to unpack. A simple white t-shirt and blue zip-up followed, the hood covered most of his unkept hair. Brushing his teeth and slipping on his vans, he quietly stepped out of his room, careful to keep his head low as he travelled down the elevator to the bottom floor.

The bed and breakfast place that he was in was fairly large, with a fair amount of space in the rooms and restaurant. He stayed in the shadows of the wall, inspecting the area. Fortunately, there didn't seem like anyone seated would recognize him, allowing a quick exit on his behalf.