Addictive « zayn malik au

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I tugged at the inside of my pockets as the harsh November air fought to brush my hood off. I walked the normal path back home that I took most of the time, through the back ways and under broken fences so it would cut my time in half. I visited my mum a lot in the hospital. She's much older really, just had me at a late age and now is suffering from brain cancer. The doctors assume that some day, when they arent so sure, she will eventually loose her memory of everything. Eventually my mother will loose any memory of having me.

 I brought the cigarette that was in between my pointer and middle finger to my lips and sucked in, watching as the tip lit up slightly, burning bright in the damp, cloudy surroundings. Mum got on my case a lot about smoking and how bad it is for your health but truth is I don't want to stop. I used to always say I'd never start but to not sound tragically lame, I got pressured into it in high school and just never stopped.

I took the last drag before throwing it on the ground and burning it out. I bent down and folded my body in such a way that I could fit inbetween the open fence that led onto my old school grounds. I walked down the steep hill and eventually came to realize that the sound of a basketball smacking against the concrete was echoing. I turned the corner and found a tall guy, in only a hoodie and jeans, throwing the ball into the hoop - scoring every single time. I stood there for a bit and watched, admired as he concentrated on the target and managed to continuously sink it. Eventually he missed and the ball bounced off the side board and headed for me. With the shake of his head he turned and watched as I picked the ball up and spun it in my hands. His dark eyes met mine and he gave me some what of a nod, extending his hand, asking for the ball back. I stood up tall and looked at the target, closing one eye and bending my arms in such a way that I knew it would sink. I stood back from my far distance and with force threw the ball in the air watching, along with him, as the ball glided to the hoop and went straight in. I smiled in satisfaction and he looked over at me with another smirk.

"You're good." He said making me nod.

And that was all that was said between us. I didn't ask him his name and he didn't ask me mine. I never even spoke to him yet by the look in his eyes I could tell that, like me, he wanted to get to know the mysterious person infront of him. But instead of staying to chat I carried on my way, leaving the court listening as the echoing of the bouncing ball returned.