[COMPLETE]
love
lʌv/
noun
1.
a strong feeling of affection.
2.
a great interest and pleasure in something.
verb
1.
feel deep affection or sexual love for (someone).
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A cliché love story between two different people that fall for one another in a su...
The dark haired lad huffed out a sigh of relief when he placed the last heavy moving box on the counter of his new kitchen, pushing his hair back.
"Thanks again for the help mate" He smiled politely at the guy who's been helping him with his boxes.
"It's no problem" The guy smiled back at him, looking around. "Never thought anyone would ever move in here again" he said and placed the box he was holding on top of another one.
"Oh really? Why's that?" Zayn asked, narrowing his eyebrows at him while opening the box with a his pocket knife.
"Oh didn't you hear? There was a murder in here a few years back. And legend says, the ghost of the owner still haunts this place" The guy explain with a hum, trying to hold his grin back when he saw the look on Zayn's face.
"Dude, I'm kidding" He began to laugh as a wave of relief washed over the British mans, chuckling lowly himself. "I'm guessing you're a cop with humor then, Adam?"
"Yup" The man, Adam, hummed with a grin. "Need any help with putting the stuff away?"
"Nah m'good. You helped enough" Zayn smiled kindly at him. "Thanks again officer"
Adam chuckled softly. "No problem Bud, I'll see you around" He grinned before leaving the apartment.
Zayn smiled and started unpacking the boxes, humming softly. He grabbed a huge box which had the word ART written on top of it and he smiled at that, walking up the wooden stairs to place it in a white room he was going to use as his own art studio.
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Art was such a fascinating thing to him. It was a true inspiration. How beautiful the colors would be, the meaning of the picture itself. It was just mind blowing. Zayn was obsessed with it. Always has been since he was just a little boy.
To him, art wasn't just a hobby. No. It meant so much more to him. It was practically his love, the thing he loved to do the most. Art has always been apart of his life. Always. From birth to kindergarten to high school to now. Zayn could never go a day without sketching something. His mind was filled with so many creative ideas that he just had to sketch them so they wouldn't get lost in his ocean of ideas.
The dark haired lad placed the box on the wooden desk that was in the room and looked around it, smiling to himself at all the ideas he had planned for it. He could picture everything, different sized canvases all over the room, paint covered news papers all over the floor, different kind of paint cans standing everywhere in the way, a board with all designs and sketches, a cupboard filled with all his full sketches and creations. He looked at the white wall before him, already knowing what he'd do to that.
Zayn walked over to the windows and stared down at the beautiful view of Manhattan, already loving this place. He watched as the heavy rain poured down from the sky, and the drops rolling down the glass. It somehow reminded him of the time he was in London for college.
