in the hills • zayn malik

seventeen- swan-song

seventeen- swan-song

song for this chapter: “reminder” by Mumford and Sons

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He searched for Iris as soon as he woke up, but then Zayn remembered that they weren’t out in the orchard, she wasn’t in his arms. He looked disappointedly around his room, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Zayn slid out of bed anyway, grabbing a new shirt that he remembered he collected off Iris yesterday. He spotted his keys sitting on a small table, the only reminder of the life waiting for him in London.

Fifty days. It seemed like he had been at Iris’ house for a lot longer, but also felt that time had gone so quickly. It seemed like only yesterday that Iris had smiled at him for the first time, or when he had finally heard her laugh.

Thinking that Iris would be up, he quickly got ready, during this time imagining her standing there, hair let loose, her lips pulled into a dazzling smile.

But walking into the kitchen, there was no Iris waiting there for him. Zayn began to smile as he realised for the first time since he had arrived, she had slept in.

Usually Iris was meticulous when it came to waking up in the morning, no matter how late he and Iris stayed up talking about things that usually were unimportant and ended in the both of them laughing to themselves as they went back into their rooms.

Yesterday, Iris had shown Zayn her room for the first time, much to his apprehension. He could almost feel how nervous Iris was, and this had set off this notion in his head that the reason she was nervous was because she liked him.

Zayn didn’t know why he continually told himself that Iris couldn’t like him. Maybe the almost unbearable sting of Perrie’s rejection still hung with him, and even the thought of Iris looking away with disgust as he poured out his feelings made him feel sick.

Zayn sighed, momentarily put down by his own troubled mind. Looking around the kitchen, he decided to make some breakfast, and then head out to the car early, so he could get back as soon as he could.

As he was spreading butter over his piece of bread, he thought of Iris’ room, and how it just fit her perfectly.

The walls had been painted a very light purple, looking almost if someone had accidentally poured a bit of purple paint into a white can of paint. Her bed was made out of a light wood, and there was a chest of drawers (seemingly hand-made) that was opposite her bed.

A large box was under one of the windows, painted by a child. Iris had looked abashed, and stood in front of it, but instead of childish Zayn found it rather endearing to see a part of her childhood.

“You were a good drawer.” He had complimented, giving her a large smile as he admired the drawings of birds and flowers.

“My father told me that my mother loved drawing.” Iris said, crouching beside him. “He told me I got the gift from her.”

“So you end up talented and extremely beautiful like her.” Zayn said nonchalantly, though mentally cursing himself after the words that slipped out of his lips.

Iris only laughed, but he didn’t miss the bright red blush that had risen to her cheeks. “You’re too sweet.” She had said softly.

Yesterday had been a day of not thinking of consequences, Zayn mused as he ate. They didn’t talk of their near-kiss, or of what happened in the orchard. Maybe it was cowardice on both parts, but Zayn knew that Iris wasn’t ready for what being with him entailed.