Maroon (Zayn Malik)

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        My head throbs with every step I take down the crowded sidewalk, the relentless winter air showing no sympathy for my wisdom tooth extraction I had just days ago. I wrap my fingers around the tip of my pink tongue, rubbing the blister that formed due to my infatuation with sour candy. I slowly drop my darkened hand, only to pick it up again and peel back the cuticles on my spindly fingers.

        I spy people in the city library as I pass by the glass window, not quite being able to grasp the fact that people actually read books for a hobby, but respecting their interests nonetheless.

        I label it as O.C.D when I hop over the vein-like cracks embedded in the concrete below my black boots.

        A drop of excess water from a shop building lands on my eyebrow, making me jolt slightly, my feet lifting off the ground. The trailing droplet feels like a bug crawling down my face, forcing me to stop a moment to wipe it away.

        I carry-on my walk and cower my head when passersby begin to eye me strangely.

        The air suddenly holds a loud scream, the volume of it ricocheting off of the ears of those walking along the England sidewalk, making their heads raise upwards.

        My quiff shakes as I cock my head to the side at the sight of a young woman running out of a pet shop ahead. What I presume is the tail of a puppy peaks from beneath the lady's arm and her continuous shouts urge me to jog after her.

        I mutter quick apologies as I push past the rubberneckers flooding the pedway. My feet pad against the ground, my eyes taking in the image of the girl in which I'm chasing.

        Though it's obvious she's running with all of her might, her sprint comes across as rather slow and her movements are messy. I hesitate slightly as my fingers slide against the stranger's skin, my hand gently wrapping around her arm.

        The woman's reaction is automatic and exaggerated as her body whips around to face me. I take a step back as I see the tears in her eyes, her pupils being fish swimming in the ocean of her auburn orbs.

        I continue to backtrack as I take in her actions. She doesn't take off running again when I let go of her arm (as I assumed she would). Her gaze veers back and forth as her head flickers to and fro. She shifts the puppy from her left arm to both arms, cradling it as you would a baby, her nails clutching it protectively.

        "Please please please," she screams repeatedly, making me shudder slightly, pressing my palms tightly against the sides of my head. The air between my ear canals and my hands acts as a suction, blocking out but a minuscule amount of the sound.

        It isn't until a middle-aged man approaches us that I realize who the girl's pleas are directed towards. The guy, who I assume is the miss's father, quickly pulls her into an embrace, the baby dog vanishing from my view, getting smashed between the envelopment.

        "Sweetie, you know we can't have a pet with your brother around."

        The bloke attempts to soothe the girl, his calm voice hinting that he's used to this kind of behavior from his daughter. Though, as he glides his hand along the female's sweaty hair, she pulls away, letting out a loud wail as she plops to the hard ground. Her jaw smacks together, her childish actions throwing me off guard as she whimpers.

        A sigh escapes the father's lips as he sympathetically pulls the dog away from the woman's grasp. The girl's hands fall into her lap in utter exhaustion, her lip continuing to tremble and her teeth chattering in the cold weather.

        "I'm sorry," he whispers before turning back towards the pet shop, nearly colliding with me in the process.

        The man eyes me with curiosity etched in his features before opening his mouth to speak.

        "Would you mind watching over her until I get back?" he questions, desperation bubbling out of his throat and mixing with his words.

        "Sure," I spit out immediately, feeling a bit empathetic for him.

        "Thanks so much," he mumbles before stumbling off to take the animal back to where it came from.

        Though the thought crosses my mind as to why I'm babysitting a grown human being, I blow it off and knock my feet together awkwardly.

        The girl finally directs her attention towards me, wiping away the slobber leaking from the right corner of her protruding lip.

        "Please don't cry," I whisper, the only response I receive being a quirked eyebrow.

        "You really wanted that puppy, didn't you?" I question sadly, my hands hesitantly reaching down to help her up. Nodding, she wobbles to her feet, rejecting my offer (though a part of me knows that she didn't do it intentionally).

        Clumps and crumbs of cookies tumble from the pockets of her worn jacket, explaining the oatmeal aroma I smelt just moments ago.

        I cringe slightly when she reaches into the jumper and pulls out a handful of wafer to shove into her mouth. The sweet particles mix with the salty tears remaining on her cheeks.

        "My name is Maroon!" she yells, spitting food all over my face.