Art & Ink //Zauren?

•eleven

Zayn and Dean
The past

He waited outside the front door of the private school for Dean's arrival. Zayn did this every morning ever since they were in elementary school. They were pretty close, to say the least. Dean was 16 and Zayn was on the verge of 18 at that time.

Finally, a beat up car pulled into the lot and Zayn's heart sped up. Dean never came this late. Never.

The boy slowly approached the front of the school with his satchel hanging off his shoulder and his dark hair pulled back into a pony tail. Do to the lack of hair in his face, it wasn't hard for Zayn to spot a busted lip and a black eye.

"What happened this time?" He asked as the two of them stood face to face in front of the school. Classes started an hour ago but that didn't matter. The bruises did.

Dean shrugged and looked down at his feet. Zayn put two fingers under his chin and tipped his head up in an intimate gesture. He could see pain behind his silver eyes.
This happened frequently and no one ever noticed. Not even the strict teachers at their school. Dean was nobody to society. So if he showed up to school with a couple of bruises on his face, who cared?

"He hit you again." It wasn't a question. Zayn knew the bruises were a result of his father's bad temper.

"Yeah," Dean whispered.

That was two months before the incident. It was 12pm on a school night when Zayn got a call from a distraught Dean.

"He's dead," Dean cried into the phone.
Zayn, who was still half asleep, didn't know what to say.

"...You there?" He asked, growing worried from the silence on the other end of the phone.

Zayn took a deep breath and answered.

"Yeah, I'm here." He didn't just mean it literally.

After the disturbing phone call, Zayn threw on a thick coat to shield his frame from the night air and snuck out his window. Dean's house was far from his and it took him an hour to walk there. Zayn would only walk an hour in 40 degree weather for Dean. It showed just how much he cared for him.

By the time he made it there, flashing red lights lit up Dean's street. Even though his legs felt numb, he broke out into a full sprint to get close to the scene. He saw two police men standing near the scene and he approached the men in uniform.

"What's going on?" He asked them with a panicked look in his eyes.

The two men turned around to face the boy that interrupted their conversation.

"Who are you, kid?" One of the men asked placing both hands on his hips.

Kid? He hated when people called him that.

"I'm a friend of the family," smoke came out with every breath his took.

"Zayn."
He turned around when he heard his name. Dean's face was riddled with fresh cuts and bruises. A few were covered with bandages. He had a blanket draped over his shoulders and his eyes were red and puffy. Another man in uniform stood next to him with a pen and note pad in hand.

Without a second thought, Zayn wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled him into a tight embrace. The world seemed to stop for a split second before they pulled away from each other.