Skinny Love (One Direction Fanfiction)

Chapter 6.5 (Zayn)

I stand frozen; we had always been the opposite in that sort of sense.

I find there to be two types of people in life: the runners and the chasers.

She runs and runs: speeding her way through her life, not letting anything touch her, not letting someone get close enough to scar her, not getting attached, never slowing down. These runners stop for nothing, afraid that if they do they might get too comfortable; too comfortable with themselves, with the people around them, with where they are, with what they’re doing- And then one day, not even a day, but just a moment, will suddenly change their life, shifting it on a little axis to the point that they can no longer clearly see who they are anymore. When all of a sudden there’s a change, and they are attached, and there’s something that has slowed them down. Runners hide from the uncertainty and confrontation by avoiding it. They run until there legs no longer carry, or at least until they make some self-discovery or evaluation that they don’t have to run, that life is made for change.

What worked so well for us, why we seemed to fit together like some sort of puzzle, is the fact that I, myself, am a chaser. I spend my life chasing after things: girls, goals, dreams,anything- Anything that will keep me moving forward, keep me with a purpose. Us chasers do that. We spend our lives trying to out-do what we just did, or get that one foot in the door, just so we can be one step ahead. Chasing keeps us doing something, keeps us from looking in the mirror and, much like the runners, asking that vital question no one ever seems to have the answer to: What am I doing with my life?

While runners avoid the question, trying to distance themselves from the harsh reality of the answer they never fully want to admit, we chasers simply cover it up, stating whatever we’re doing at that point in time: I’m in a band, I’m getting engaged, I’m training for a marathon. They’re true, yet shallow, answers that are enough of a façade to keep us going for one more day. The problem I’ve found with chasing, though, is that you’re never really satisfied because you’re never around long enough to enjoy what you just caught. You’re automatically on to the next chase-

“I’m guessing she’s not just an old business acquaintance.” Vienna half asks-half states, placing a hand on my shoulder.

A third type of person had been added to my list since I joined this crazy, plasticized industry. I’m not really sure what to call this group, or how, or even what, to classify them as or by. All I know is Vienna seems to fit into this group, and all they ever seem to be good for are three things: fake smiles, pretty lies that make you look like you walk on water, and a good fuck.

Vienna lightly massages my shoulders, before snaking her arms around me, her bra-clad chest pressing into my bare back.

A really good fuck.

I shrug her off, snapping back into my senses as I shake my head.

“Old friend.” I mutter. As much as I wish I could I just stand here all day, I know I have to do something. I quickly stride across the room and gather up my hoodie that had been tossed lifelessly over the arm of the couch. Vienna sighs, and follows after me, grabbing my arm and swinging me around to face her.

“Zayny, baby, what are you doing?” She whines, as she begins hooking her fingers through my belt loops. “We were in the middle of something.”

Good question: What exactly am I doing?

I dodge her advances, running a hand through my dark hair. Well, first off, I need a shirt… I think it went over, ah, yes- I pick up the discarded white t-shirt from the floor and notice something glowing a bit from under the nearby chair. I grab it quickly and realize it’s a phone. The screen is lit up with a picture of a man who looks to be a few years older than me, and, judging by the caller-ID, is called Rick.