Addictive « zayn malik au

01

Mum wasn't doing any different today. She wasnt doing any better, nor was she doing any worse. She just starred at me blankly, occasionally pointing to her water glass, and listening to the stories that easily flowed out of me. She doesn't talk much, the doctor's dont know why exactly. She has enough strength to and her tumor doesnt affect her speaking ability. I think it's just because she's stubborn and like's listening to other people talk instead.

We discovered about a month ago that my stories calm her down a lot. They're rubbish really, just whatever comes to my mind I say and I just tell her everything. So I just let it come out. I talk to her about how things at my apartment are coming along. How I painted the walls the colour we decided on. How Oliver is fitting comfortably into his surroundings but still barks at 3 in the morning. How Georgia across the hall asks about her progress every single time I return from the hospital. About the two little girls on the third floor that used to visit - how big they've grown and how beautiful they are becoming. I tell her about the weather and how the recent drop in temperature froze the pound by our old house and kids are beginning to test to see if they can skate on it. I tell her all about the things that she used to see and experience day-to-day but no longer can because she's here. That soon she won't remember because of her condition.

"You should write books, you're so good at painting pictures with your words Annabelle." She once spoke softly and for a few moments, just a few, I began to think about how my book would start and end. And I get a warm feeling inside of my stomach when I see that she believes in me. But soon enough that feeling disappears because of how forgetful she's become.

My mother and I used to never be the picture perfect family. My dad died when I was 6 leaving her to raise me alone and she faced many challenges. I wasn't a well behaved child and I got into a lot of bad things. I felt alone in a large world full of unfamiliar faces that whispered things about me because of what I wore, what I acted like, who I was ad who my father was. My dad had a lot of secrets, tons that my mother didn't even know about and people knew that he was a shady person. That I didn't even know his job and that he was involved with a lot of bad things putting him in court and jail multiple times. It unfortunately shaped who I am today and how I feed off of people, how I react around strangers. But mine and my mum's relationship eventually grew stronger around the age of 16 when I decided that  I would change. That I wouldn't let my father's death and the kids at school effect who I became.

So like every visit, this one had to come to an end. With a silent hug from mum I told her I loved her and I'd see her tomorrow before I made my way on home.

I took the same route I always did. Cutting through back alleyways and some peoples open backyards before I reached the school. I bent down and fit through it, walking down the steep hill before reaching the school grounds. As I walked around the same corner I found the same boy as yesterday but this time he was sitting on the ground, a smoke in between his lips as he faced my direction. He was in a dark leather jacket along with dark jeans but today his hair was tossed messily making me desperately want to run my long fingers through it. A smirk appeared on his lips and he put his hand on the gravel for support as he brought himself off and dusted his hands off. He brought the smoke away from his lips and blew the smoke out, catching it as he inhaled through his nose.

"We meet again." He called out so his booming voice echoed throughout the grounds. I smiled slightly as I walked, my heavy boot buckles creating a second echo.

"Zayn." He said as he stuck his hand out for me. I couldn't help but for half a second admire the way it rolled off his tongue and the way his tongue flicked. I watched, admiring, as his pink tongue appeared and he licked the corner of his lips before he pulled it back into his mouth.

"Annabelle." I said making him smile as I take his hand. "But I strongly prefer Anna, my mum's the only one that calls me Annabelle." I said making him nod as he retrieved his hand.

"I like the sound of Annabelle." He said taking another drag. I admired the way his lips curled around the cigarette and soon I found myself craving. He extended his hand but this time he held the box of smoke out of me. I smiled as I reached to grab one but he took the box away.

"You shouldn't be smoking it kills you." He said stuffing them back into his jacket making me cross my arms.

"I'm not afraid to die." I said watching him raise his eyebrows.

"I like your answer." He said, pulling the box out and this time allowing me to take a cigarette. I pulled the lighter out of my jacket pocket and lit the smoke before inhaling deeply.

"So Annabelle, what's your story?" He asked.

"I cant be won over by a cigarette Zayn, you'll have to try harder than that." I said before walking past him and leaving him to stand alone in the middle of the basket ball court. A smirk on my face as I felt for once in my life I left someone wanting more.