Princess (Ziam)

Costs

Late update, but here we go!

I am incredibly proud of all of my boys, and I am hyped for Niall's album and Liam's song! Louis needs to drop another song, Harry needs another video, and Zayn needs to drop stuff as well. (Btw read the pic above and message the person if you live in the area and can go.)

I love you all, guys, and my heart and soul goes out to Vegas and anyone who was affected by, directly or indirectly, by the tragic incidence. ❤ Value every moment, I know it's hard, but it's worth the try.

Finally, please enjoy this chapter! (And again, this story is NOT over unless I SPECIFICALLY say it is coming to an end. Nothing to worry about yet, lovelies.)

Chapter 64:

I woke up way too early the next morning, five o'clock before the sun was even up. It was far too early for a Saturday, but my mind wouldn't allow me to sleep anymore.

I looked up at Zayn, seeing that his eyes were closed, sleeping beside me, but his features weren't peaceful. There was a small indention on his forehead from where his eyebrows were lightly pulled together as if his subconscious self was attempting to push out any bad memories. His lips seemed to be almost held in a grim line, void of any emotion whatsoever. I knew he wasn't having a nightmare, but he also wasn't having a sweet dream.

I shifted closer to the shattered boy beside me, completely full of sorrow as I watched a single tear drip from his eyes, cascading down the side of his cheek and dripping onto his pillow below. I was breathless at the unexpected emotion, but I still wiped the tear away, leaving a gentle kiss in its wake.

I sighed, knowing that Zayn seemed to be trapped in never-ending pain. I knew there was an end to everything that his father has done to him, but I also knew that there was no way to fill the hole in his heart that his mother took when she passed. There would always be that pain-- that numbing feeling that something was missing, almost on his fingertips but never being reached.

I felt a jab at my own heart as I imagined a young Zayn completely clueless to the loss of his mother until the news was announced. By a stranger nonetheless; a stranger that got to spend his mum's final moments with her instead of Zayn.

I could see him breaking down, maybe confused and in doubt at first before desperately asking to see his mum; never being allowed to. I could picture him screaming and pleading, holding on to his dad-- the very man that caused him so much pain-- only because it was all he had. And that little boy would never see his mother again nor be allowed to meet his baby sibling. One person who was his world ripped from the earth and one who had the potential to teach him bravery and protection, maybe give him a will to live and fight, taken away as well.

I began to wonder how Zayn felt whenever he saw his aunt's face. I've no clue if she was related to his mum or his dad, but he held a few features that seemed to resemble that of his mum. Or maybe just hearing her caring voice brought back a flood of memories for him. Memories of his own mum caring.

I looked up at Zayn when I heard his breathing pattern change, and I watched as he slowly opened his eyes, marvelling at the way his long, thick eyelashes fluttered a couple of times before his eyes remained open, looking into my own.

It was silent for a moment, and I don't think either of us knew what to say. I didn't know where Zayn stood on the topic of last night. Did he want to talk about it or forget a ever said a word? I wanted to respect whatever space he needed for it, so I chose not to mention it or even ask why he was crying in his sleep.

"Good morning," I pathetically said, lacking on better words to utter.

I listened as Zayn took a deep breath and offered a small smile. I could tell the smile was difficult for him to maintain, it was a strain for him to keep, and I didn't like it one bit.