Alcoholics Anonymous → ziam

Prologue

Zayn drinks. 

It's not because he's heartbroken, not because he has no friends, and it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he hates the person he sees in the mirror. Because he puts on this happy exterior, because he smiles, and because he always seems so happy nobody ever thought of him as Zayn the suicidal alcoholic, they thought of him as nothing but a playful party boy trying to sow his wild oats. 

That changed the night he climbed to the top of his roof, and drank. And he drank, and drank, and drank until he couldn't see two feet in front of him. In trying to escape from those thoughts he fell into a hole that would swallow him up. 

To this day he can't tell you how, he can't tell you why, and he can't tell you when, but he ended up on the ledge of that building, and had it not been for his sister constantly visiting him it would have been his last night on this earth.

That's when the looks started. The pitying eyes, the outrageous rumors, and worst of all the offers for help and rehab. Zayn didn't need to be fixed, he had no desire to be. In his mind, why would he even be worth fixing?

It's not until his moth put her foot down that Zayn finally got some "help". A large AA building, dressed up to look like it's not what it really is. It's an overly-glorified cry fest for the rich and influential. 

He remembers sitting in front of those people that day. 

"Hi, I'm, uh, Zayn and I'm an alcoholic," he said, and those words. Those simple words were like poison in his mouth. He felt the urge to drink, to ignore the stares these people gave him. 

"Hi, Zayn," the all spoke in a friendly manner. 

And he knew, no matter how much he wished for it to be true, that this was not going to be over quickly enough. 

A/N: I know it's just the prologue, and it's pretty short but I hope you will enjoy this story. Don't forget to vote and comment if you liked it, and yeah, peace!

xo.