One More Spoon of Cough Syrup [Zayn Malik FanFiction]

Chapter 23

 "And I've been a fool and I've been blind, I can never leave the past behind. I can see no way, I can see no way, I'm always dragging that horse around." - 'Shake It Out' by Florence and the Machine.

Believe it or not, we didn't actually watch a movie (Louis eventually gave up promoting Captain America even though the rest of the boys and I loved that movie) - much to Zayn's dismay. He wanted to watch Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 to see if I would cry or not. I tried not to make it too obvious that I didn't want to watch that movie because I knew I would cry - I didn't want anyone to see me do that.

Instead, we played truth or dare (yep, can't know One Direction for long without playing a game of truth or dare). Of course, me being me, I went for a dare everytime. The lads didn't seem to mind, though - they were quite creative with their dares to be honest. There was none of that 'kiss Harry' or anything - they gave proper full-fledge dares.

A few being I had to re-act my latest dream (the one where I raised my kid to believe that Harry Potter was real), I had to drink a weird concoction made by Louis in thirty seconds (and I made it very clear that all ingredients must be edible), call a pizza place and explain the rules of Monopoly to them (I blocked my number), stand on the roof of the tour bus with a sign that read HONK IF YOU LIKE CHEESE (we had to spare six pilowcases, some sellotape for the sign and use creamed carrots for wording, but it was worth it), and last but definetely not least - I had to do the cinnamon challange with the next person the bottle landed at.

"Come on Zayn, let's do this!" I got up, feeling confident. 

Harry filled up two spoons with powdered cinnamon and handed us one each; Louis raised his phone, recording everything, an evil smirk upon his face. 

"OK," Zayn breathed. "Three, two, one."

My throat burned like hell. While everyone else cracked up, Zayn immedietly ran to the kitchen and spat out what he could on the floor then ran to the sink and started splashing water in his mouth.

Me - stupid me - well, I tried to swallow everything, thinking it would be easier. "Oh, Jesus," I choked, my eyes streaming; I was half-laughing, half-choking. Half the cinnamon clogged up around my throat and  I rubbed my fingers all over my tongue while looking at my reflection in the spoon to see where the rest of the powder was. My face was red and damp from my leaking eyes.

"OK, they've had enough hell for one day," Niall chuckled. 

"You think?" Zayn rasped, coming from the kitchen with two litre bottles of water. He handed one to me and began chugging from the other.

"That was a lot less painful than when I did it in year nine," I realised. 

"You've done it before?" Harry moaned. "I would've given you a different dare!" 

"We've been through enough, Hazza," Zayn panted, as though he had just run a marathon. Can't blame him though - eat one spoonful of cinnamon and suddenly everything seems easy.

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It was around six in the evening when Zayn joined me on the roof. I was sitting down leaning against the railings with my legs stretched out infront of me, ankles crossed. He came and sat down next to me, resting his head on my shoulder.

I split the jam sandwaich in my hands in half and offered him one; he took it and nibbled on it, looking pretty down. "How you holding up?" I asked, quietly.

"It's hard," he answered, in a thick voice. Wait - was he crying? "Is is normal to get emotional over deprivation from cigarettes?"

"I-" I then realised that I really wasn't sure. "-I don't know," I responded, almost sliently. "I'm sorry Zayn, I didn't think things would go like this..."