Broken Beauty (Zustin) [ON HOLD]

Sept

Splash.

I pick up another stone, throw it in the lake. 

Where is he? I asked myself, as if I would get an answer back.

Probably with his family, or somewhere else, or-

You think too much, said the voice in my head. 

Yeah, I need to stop thinking.

Like the loner I am, I sit on the swing, and think about everything and nothing, but mostly my mind wanted me to think (again) about Zayn. So I did. I imagined him and I, together, what my dad would do, what we would do, what he parents would do, what mom would do and what Melanie would do.

Oh my god, stop thinking, like it's ever going to happen.

Yeah. It's probably not going to happen. I don't even know if he's attracted to guys in that way. Sure, he blushes now and then, but anyone can make anyone blush. 

Getting down from the swing, I decide to head home. 

Once I reach there, I notice that there were boxes lying on the doorstep, and when I opened one of them, it was filled with old utensils and furniture decorations.

Moving the boxes to a side, I step inside the house, and see mum vacuum cleaning the living room.

"Oh, Justin, I'm glad you came. Could you help me and place those boxes in the car?" Mom asks.

"Sure." I answer. There were boxes in the living room too. I pick them up, one by one and place them on the doorstep. After that, I take them too the car and put them in the trunk of the car. Thankfully, there was enough space to fit all of them.

Me being the clumsy person I am, trip and drop one of the boxes. I scrape my knees and elbows and make the contents of the boxes scatter on the ground., and let out a hiss of pain. I hear the vacuum cleaner being turned off, and the shuffling of foot steps.

"Oh, Justin, are you alright?" She asks, concerned, crouching next to me.

I get up and dust off the dirt. "Yeah, I am. Sorry." I reply, bending to pick up the things and placing them inside the box. Mom does the same.

My eyes dart to a black camera. Picking it up, I ask, "Mom, does this work?" Later realizing it was a Polaroid camera.

"Oh, yes, it does." She replies.

"I have never seen it though."

"We bought it before you were born." She smiles and takes the camera from my hand, stroking it tenderly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. When we," She pauses, closing her eyes and opening them again. "When your dad and I were on much happier terms, he would whip out the camera at the most odd times," At this she laughs, making me smiles. "And he would exclaim, 'Smile for the camera!'" 

"He often called it The Lover's Camera." She said, making me giggle.

I smiled again. "Wait, mum, can I use it?" I ask.

"Yeah, why not? I wonder why I put it in the box in the first place." She answered, handing the camera to me.

I gladly take it and put it further away from the other objects. After putting everything inside the box, I put in in the car and slam the trunk shut. Grabbing the camera, I head to my room, and almost close the door when mum comes in.

"Justin, you need to clean your wounds first." She insists. I nod my head, placing the camera on the table and head to the bathroom. I remove the torn-at-the-knees jeans and wash my legs and elbows. I put on some shorts and walk into the living room, where mom was already ready with the first aid kit.