SUFFERING // Zayn Malik AU

VIII. Deflagration

[unedited]

I open my mouth to scream out, but my mind refuses to inform me what’s going on. I’m constantly torn between wanting to care for building a decent (friendly) relationship with Zayn and give him a chance to explain himself. But during the waiting of his confusing and unbelievable explanations I’m forced to dream about my injuries. Not only the wounds that are so deep that the bleeding red flesh was nothing compared to the bone you could see through it, but also the deep cut in my mentality enough to make me lunatic. It felt so unbelievably wrong to smile at him now I don’t see him behind bars.

“Are you feeling better?” Harley asked me, not really looking at me when he opened the window to invite some fresh air.

“My head feels a little lighter.” I murmured, still sitting on the edge of the couch with my head resting in between both of my hands and rubbing softly.

“Are you sure?” He laughed, probably because of my bizarre posture. I lifted my head, faked a smile and nodded. Harley smiled back and left the room again. It should be so easy to not think of how messed up my life is, but I keep torturing myself by thinking I have absolutely nothing anymore. I had the perfect life, caring friends, loving family and good grates. Now I have the memory of my sickening skinny body with abraded knees and spirit. A vague reminiscence of how salty tears would feel against my cheeks and a pathetic recollection of how my only worry was how to make it at school in time. I’d kill to cry away these remembrances, but I didn’t  have the strength to do anything but the lame board games with the two guys I’m stuck with for probably the rest of my life. 

“Good morning” Zayn’s hair was still a little damp from the shower. I answered with a simple smile after fighting my proud.  “If you’re okay with it we’re going out today” It’s been ages since I spoke to anyone but Harley, Zayn, Aaron or Jade.

“What do you have in mind?” I answered with a lowered voice, like nobody was supposed to hear me.

“Just walking on the beach, if that’s okay with you?” He asked as he raised his eyebrow.

“Yea, everything’s fine.”

“But be careful, please. I don’t know how strong your legs are already. Plus, there is a lot of wind. I have no idea if it’s good for your messed up resistance.” He looked troubled, sad almost.

“Don’t worry about me, I think fresh air will do good.” Harley came downstairs with sweatpants and his Mac Book. There were glasses resting on his nose and it kind of looked cute on him. He looked up and smiled adorably before sitting down on ‘my bed’.

“Are you not joining us?” I asked hopefully. He shared a weird glance with Zayn and shook his head.

“No I still have to do something for work.” I didn’t even realised people had to work to survive. I was too busy to survive myself without thinking about that.

“Are you ready?” Zayn asked, holding a jacket and a woollen scarf. Already with the doorknob in his hands. I walked quietly through the door after tucking myself in. I breathed in the almost intoxicating cold air. “The beach is that way.” He pointed at the direction of the sun. Whilst we were walking through the streets, I couldn’t help but notice how deserted and sad the world looked. Nobody was outside and only the bare trees were kind of visible for my eyes.

It was weird to walk on the beach in this weather. I only go to the beach if it’s summer and now the wind cuts my skin  like knives. We walk in silence for at least two hours. None of us tried to begin a conversation and it didn’t have to, the silence was comforting my silent screams.

“Are you okay, or do you want to walk back?” He asked suddenly. All though the long silence, his voice sounded very soft.

“Let’s walk back, it’s still a two hour walk back, right?” I asked. He nodded and for the first time in weeks he really looks at me. His face contradicts and his cheekbone flinched as he clenched his teeth upon each other.

“How do you do this?” He whispered with cracks in every word.

“Do what?” I say confusingly and the both of us stop walking.

“Act like everything’s fine. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t sleep, my own subconscious hates me and every time I look at you I feel your pain.” He took a short break to breathe in, it sounded like he was choking on the air. He looked at me with so much tears I had difficulties to believe there were actually tears streaming down his cheeks. His hands shot to his face and only know I see how wrong I was the whole time. In a way Zayn was a victim too. And one way or another I liked knowing how much he was suffering too. I loved the helpless Zayn, with the impoverished spirit and the soothing sobs that escaped his lips. I adored knowing he was only holding a gun, but not the one pulling the trigger, I adored how he killed himself too, when he pulled that trigger and aimed it in my direction. Like my blood was on his hands but not how the sentence is always used, the other way around. My blood is on his hands because he tried to safe me with his own hands but instead he’d killed us both. I loved this helpless Zayn, looking around for help but only finding the opposite.

I stepped closer to him and rested my both hands on both his cheeks. His body jolted for a second when my skin touched his. I pushed his hands softly away and put them on my own cheeks before placing my hands back on his. I don’t think you can say what I feel is love right now, but I know my heart craved for this vulnerable Zayn in every way possible, even though my mind doesn’t want to admit it. I felt his breathe on my cheeks and it felt comfortably warm. His eyes were looking questioningly back at me. Scared chills were vibrating through his body. His lips were pressed softly against my temple before placing his head in the crook of my neck. I should be alarmed when I heard sirens in my head, but I couldn’t feel anything else but this warm feeling of his body pressed against mine. I should be scared by feeling his warm tears dropping on my shoulder, but it was proof of this being real. And it was such a long time ago since I’ve felt something real.

[A/N: What do you think? Should I make it a longer story or stop at chapter 10? Please comment (and vote, heehee)]