You're The Shining Distraction That Makes Me Fly

Chapter 9

There was a humongous gap in Zayn's weekend that was usually filled by Liam, the absence making everything Zayn did almost crippling. He felt like a zombie going around his flat, encountering all the little things that remained undone that usually Liam accomplished. When Zayn finally woke up on Sunday morning, he was curled around Mezi's shivering form, the small boy's face still tear stained at he looked up at Zayn pleadingly.

There was no coffee waiting for Zayn when he walked into the kitchen to make Mezi's breakfast, no laundry started when he took Mezi to bathroom to give him a towel bath. There simply lacked everything that was Liam, and the thought was depressing, yet Zayn could still feel the anger seeithing inside him, gripping at his heart every time he saw Mezi's bandaged hands.

The most heart wrenching thing however was the fact that Mezi remained silent, eyes on the television as Zayn picked up the previous night's mess, the boy simply refusing to actually decorate the tree. He hadn't said a word since he had woken up, back to nodding and signing out the answer to questions he was asked.

Yet Zayn could still hear Liam's name resonating in the boy's voice, the desperate cry of his son calling for the man Zayn had fallen for so quickly. It made him sick to his stomach, knowing that all this was his fault, that he's allowed Liam into his life this quickly and in result his son was suffering.

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After supper, Zayn tried to change Mezrhad's mood, offered the boy some time at the park to make a snow man but Mezi only shook his head silently, sighing before he pressed his cheek to Zayn's stomach. Needing to occupy his own mind, his entire body itching for a cigarette, Zayn decided to take out his art supplies, encouraging Mezi into splattering paint over a blank canvas.

The boy did in fact participate, splattering reds and blacks along the white linen canvas, a deep contrast that only reminded Zayn of broken glass and blood. Mezi seemed to have a hard time holding the paintbrush in his bandaged hands but kept going at it, brows furrowed as he concentrated on every stroke.

"Looks wicked babe," Zayn whispered, voice suddenly tight as he could imagine Liam praising the little boy, whisking him off his chair and into the air. Zayn longed for the delighted sound's Mezi made in Liam's arms, the warmth of his smile when he was cuddled to Liam's chest.

"How about we get into pyjamas and read a story before bed," offered Zayn when Mezi hands started to quiver from the strength it took him to hold the brush up, a frustrated sigh leaving the boy's mouth.

Nodding, Mezi dropped his paintbrush on the canvas, standing to kiss Zayn's cheek before disappearing down the hallway into his room. Quickly, Zayn went about cleaning up the kitchen, putting his art supplies away and hanging the canvas by the chimney.

By the time he entered Mezi's room, Zayn head was pounding with a creeping headache making its way through his body. Opening his eyes, he came face to face with Mezi patiently sitting under his blankets with a book in his lap.

At the end of the bed however was his little black suit, delicately placed where Mezi usually put the things he wanted to wear the next day.

"Why's your suit out Beta?" Zayn asked innocently, running his fingers along the silk material. "You going to a party tomorrow where I'm not invited."

Shaking his head again, the boy rubbed at his eyes, silent tears starting to fall again.

"Babe, what's wrong?" Zayn cooed immediately, sitting next to Mezi so he could lift the boy into his lap, careful to avoid touching the boy's hands.

"Nana said little boys have to wear suits to funerals," mumbled Mezi, a chocked sob coming out as he pressed his face in Zayn's shoulder.

The sound of the boy's voice still seemed so foreign to Zayn's ears and yet the words rendered him speechless, wrapping himself thoroughly around his son as if to protect him from the world.