Long Lost and Refound - A Zayn Malik Story

Chapter 20

Chapter 20 — Long Lost and Refound

November 2013 ( FOUR YEARS LATER )

[ WARNING: CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT ]

Zayn’s POV

“Let me say something, Liam, it’s been an amazing year.”

“I’d have to agree with you, Niall. The past year has been absolutely fantastic and honestly, I think we owe it all to our dedicated fans.”

The arena erupted in a roar of screams and Liam grinned, pressing the microphone to his chin. I stood back, letting the boys do the speaking. I moved my eyes over the packed seats, over faces of screaming girl after screaming girl.  I had to squint through the glare of the lights and I stumbled back when one of the strobes flashed me in the eyes. Harry’s hand came to rest on my shoulder and he steadied me with concern. His lips moved, but I had drowned out all sound except the beating of my heart. His body shielded me from the lights and then it was as though I broke through the surface of watery depths. I blinked and focused on Harry, trying to discern his voice through the din.

“…Mate? Zayn? Hey, you still with me? It’s only a few more minutes, then you can get backstage…” Harry’s steady voice brought me back, eyes a rock holding me. I shook my head, stepping away closing my eyes, tilting my head.

“Thanks, Harry, I’m fine.”

There was a pause, and then a hand touched my elbow. For a second I thought they were small, gentle fingers, but then I opened my eyes to Harry.

“Mate, you can’t keep shutting me out—”

“Watch me,” I growled, yanking my arm away. I moved to stand beside Louis, leaving Harry standing behind. Louis threw his arm around my shoulder, grinning at me and then at the stands, eyes lit up in glee.

“What do you say, Zayn? Let’s have the last bow of the tour, shall we?” I smiled and nodded, holding my arm out for Niall to burrow under it. Liam seemed to notice the tremble of my hand because when he pressed beside Niall, he held it in tight fingers. The five of us lined up and I smiled one last time for the crowds, before bowing. When we stood back up, the boys rounded together for a silent hug. We said goodbye to the fans and then we were backstage. Cheering erupted from the stage crew and I smiled and thanked everyone for their congratulatory words and squeezed through, walking away from the group. I turned down an unfamiliar hallway of yet another unfamiliar arena, my heart racing.

I passed door after door, trying to read through my blurred vision. I found a door that had what I deciphered as a “Z” on it and pushed it open, slamming it shut behind me. I scanned the room and my eyes landed on a half-empty bottle beside the couch littered with wrappers and clothes. I made straight for it and, with shaking fingers, poured the amber liquid into a glass filled partly with half-melted ice. The alcohol touched my lips and I swallowed, sinking into the couch. I frowned deeply as it burned my throat. My head fell back against the cushions and I closed my eyes, lighting a fag and inhaling the smoke.

The door creaked open and someone stepped in. I could tell by the weight of the footsteps that it was Liam. Without looking up, I shook my head.

“Leave me alone.”

The couch sank beside me and I turned my head away, opening my eyes and looking at myself in the mirror, eyes meeting with Liam’s. I blew the smoke from my lungs. His mouth pressed into a sympathetic line.

“Everyone’s celebrating, Zayn,” he said quietly, eyebrows turning up. I shook my head and looked down at my glass, filling it up again. My cigarette hung between my lips.