Solo quattro parole: lui è finalmente tornato.
La storia di una fan e di un idolo.
______________________________
Just four words: he is finally back.
The story of a fan and an idol.
It was a typical day of June: it was hot, but fortunately there was a little wind that kept fresh the air. A few days ago I finished the school and this means that in September I had to be ready for the university. I'm an only child, I'm 18, my name's Wanda, Wanda Ferguson and I live in Manhattan -a district very near to New York.
I was wandering in the twitter home, when I saw a Zayn's photo that caught the eye. Yes, even if I was 18, I was a great fangirl: my favorite singers were One Direction, since when -the first time- they set foot on the X-Factor stage. For this reason, as far back as 25th of March of last year, when Zayn left the band, I burst into tears. Zayn had always been the closer member to me, I had always paid more attention on him. The music had always been my passion and that band had always been my obsession. The fact that simple singers could make me feel good always fascinated me. I really have strong feelings for Zayn and I do not joke when I say that I love him. The fact that fascinate me is that they make me feel good without my request, with a surreal power that they probably have. And if you're wondering, no, I've never seen them in a concert and it makes me sick: I've never seen them on the stage, singing together, while Zayn smiled and did water balloons to Louis, while Harry hugged Zayn like they were brothers from a life, when they had fun together like they were children at the Luna Park.
-What are you doing, Wan?- asked my mum, Hollie, while she was walking down the stairs.
-Uhm, nothing, I'm on twitter- I answered her, turning my face. -Look how handsome my Zayn- I said, showing her my phone and smiling like I was stupid.
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-You'll meet him one day, bae- replied the blond, caressing my back and smiling me in a comforting way.
The next day I woke up because of the sun raises that came from my bedroom's window. Without losing time, I looked at the clock and woke up, going to have a shower. Then I wore my underwear and my pajama, because I didn't have to go out. I walked down the stairs and prepared my breakfast, that was: a cup of milk with two biscuits. I was alone in the house, because my parents were at work, so I set down to the sofa and I turned the tv on and I opened Facebook on the iPhone.
«Zayn Malik comes back to One Direction» said an article shared by a person.
-Usual fucking rumors, pff- I mattered, puffing.
It was one year that Zayn began a solo career, by now, but there were always articles of this argument. And it often hurt reading some stupid articles of this genre, simply because the nostalgia of Zayn in the band have not left myself yet -and it would never left, to be clear. I was happy for Zayn and, yes, I loved his music, but reading and reading some stupid titles that told about his return -and it was not true- hurt; above all if you were a type of person that could go on youtube, searching for old concerts videos and you ended up crying. To avoid that, I decided to wear my loving headphones and to go in my iPhone notes, in the folder for the letters and start writing.
