Skinny Love (One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter 1

“I can’t believe you leave tomorrow.”

A minute or two of a comfortable silence came upon us, as Zayn’s strong, much larger hand gave a reassuring, yet gentle, squeeze to my small one. I knew what it meant by now-

Zayn isn’t much of a talker. It’s not that he doesn’t talk, or that he doesn’t have enough of a vocabulary to complete his thoughts, because actually, it’s quite the opposite, and once you get him started, you can hardly get him to shut up. It’s just when it comes to moments like this, Zayn doesn’t like articulating his feelings; he likes the silence, and often tells me silence speaks louder than words themselves. I, however, hate silence. To me, silence holds too many secrets, thoughts that are going left unsaid, words hanging on the tips of tongues. I stare down towards my feet, the pavement still wet from when it rained earlier, making the streets look like glistening rows of tiny diamonds when the streetlights hit off them.

I shift slightly, and tug on Zayn’s arm a little, trying to get him to look at me. He does, and his eyelashes form as a little shield for his gorgeous, hazel eyes, preventing me from being able to read his exact emotions. When it comes to Zayn, if you want to know anything, all you have to do is look at his eyes. They literally changed to emote any feeling, tone, or mood needed in the moment. If I had to choose one thing about him that I would never, ever change it would probably be his eyes. He looks away again, and we continue our pace. Now the silence isn’t comfortable. In fact, it’s the opposite, and I know something is wrong. I feel the same question I’ve been bugging him with for the past months burning at the back of my throat, and before I can stop it, it seems to topple out of my mouth, rolling right off my tongue.

“Are you sure I can’t go with you?”

He abruptly stops walking, causing me to slightly stumble before regaining my balance; I had always been a bit of a klutz. He looks at me, and his eyes penetrate right through me.

“You know you can’t, Lena, you know I would love you to, but you can’t.”

My eyes shift away from his face, because it’s true, I did know I couldn’t go. Gabby had  moved in with her boyfriend, and someone needed to look after Matt for our parents, especially now mum was sick, and Grandma wasn’t getting any younger, certainly not young enough to look after a six year old, anyway. However, my pride automatically began to get the best of me, and, almost as quickly as I had looked down, I whip my head back up to look him in the eyes, which actually is a stupid idea on my part, because they automatically bring my confidence level down a notch.

“I-It’s just, Danielle is going! And it would be great to-”

“Danielle is different.” He cuts me off, running his free hand through his dark hair. “Danielle is a professional dancer, not in school, and doesn’t have a six year old brother to help look after.” His hand then reaches to brush a freed strand of hair out of my face, as his face breaks out in a small smile. “Besides, Matt would literally never forgive me if I took you away, now would he?”

I smile, shaking my head. The silence falls comfortable again, and we walk a little further, reaching my parent’s street. Subconsciously, our pace slows, knowing that when we get to my parent’s house, he leaves; not just for the night, though, for a sporadic two years, coming home to visit, but mostly traveling the world. He won’t be mine, but the rest of the world’s, late nights singing to countless fans, while his girlfriend waits up for ungodly hours, alone at home, waiting for a ‘I miss you, I love you’ phone call that might never come. I exhale a little sharply at the thought, and get up on my tiptoes, burying my head into the crook of his neck. Almost instantly, he wraps his arms around me, towering over my petite stature by several inches. After several minutes of him rubbing soothing circles on my back, he pulls back slightly, and mumbles something inaudible. Noticing the confusion on my face, he repeats himself, voice coming out in what can only be described as being a little louder than a whisper.