Perspective [Zarry]

01

5:30am is when Zayn's alarm went off.

The best part was he'd fallen asleep just four hours before that.

With a groan, he rolled over and turned it off.

He really wished he didn't have to get up so early, but it was the only way he could see his mother before she went off to work.

She worked long hours, not coming home until almost eight some nights, yet they still lived paycheck to paycheck.

Zayn begged her to let him get a job and help, but she was determined for him to stay focused on school.

She wanted him to do his best and get into a good college so he could have a good job and support himself comfortably.

Zayn had heard the speech a million times.

Sometimes he felt like just going out and getting a job anyway, and keeping it secret, only to surprise her by paying a bill, or having dinner ready when she got home.

Usually the parent wanted best for their child, and Zayn's mother certainly did want the best for him, but Zayn wanted the best for her too.

He got out of bed, stepping over all of the dirty clothes, empty bottles, and shoes sprawled out around his floor.

After he left his room, he shuffled down the short hallway to the kitchen.

One of the few perks of living in a small house, less distance between his bed and the fridge.

"Good morning sunshine." His mother smiled at him as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"The sun isn't even up yet." Zayn complained, sitting at the table.

"My son is." Trisha said with a little laugh, thinking that was clever.

Zayn gave her a look before he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What'll it be for breakfast?" She asked, kissing his head with her coffee breath.

This must've been her second cup.

"Can you make me cinnamon toast  and a side of eggs?" Zayn asked, looking up at her.

No matter how old he got Trisha could never say no to those eyes.

"We might as well start calling that the usual. That's what you always ask for." She smiled.

Zayn smiled a little, feeling kind of guilty.

Yes, he woke himself up this early to talk to his mother and see her, but also it was so she'd make him breakfast.

He couldn't help it, his mom's cooking was what kept him alive.

Literally, because most of the time he'd rather starve than cook something himself.

"You make the best cinnamon toast in the world, how could I not ask for it all the time?"

Trisha smiled. "It's nothing too complex, you know. Just bread butter and cinnamon."

"Sounds complex." Zayn yawned.

It didn't take her long to make his breakfast, sitting down with him a few minutes afterwards to finish her coffee and chat.

But the time flew.

"I should get going." She realized, looking at the clock.

It was almost six.

"Zayn Malik you be ready for that bus at six-thirty. You understand? If I find out you've skipped again-"