The Happiest Days of Our Lives ↠ zarry AU

I: One Life

trigger warning: deals with depressing themes such as suicide and self-harm. please read at own risk

Zayn sat on the edge of the platform, looking down at the railway tracks that were beneath his feet. It was after three in the morning on Wednesday and Paddington Station was completely, and understandably, deserted. Everyone was at home and asleep, tucked away safely in their beds.

There was, however, an odd beggar that was curled up on the bench a few meters away from Zayn. Zayn watched him sleep motionlessly on the hard and small surface on a piece of cardboard. He turned away from the man and looked at his own black combat boots that had been dirtied with mud from the wet and rainy morning that he had. He checked his watch and then looked ahead before he lowered himself onto the railway tracks. The train would be coming soon and Zayn was tired. He was tired and upset - always tired and upset.

He silently cried as he lay down, fitting his slim body perfectly between the tracks. He could hear it in the distance. He forced himself to think of something - anything to distract himself from the oncoming impact of the train... but he just couldn't... as usual, it was a black void on nothingness. He screwed his eyes shut and began counting fast. He can't stop crying and his ears are now growing icy because of his tears that are continuously washing over them.

It's almost here, he thinks, just a few more seconds and then it will all be okay.

Something hard and large slams into his chest and Zayn thinks it's happening, the train's run over him - he doesn't understand why he's only feeling it in his chest though? He then hears an ugly ripping sound and a burn across the back of his neck that makes his eyes shoot open, and that's when he sees that he's being violently pulled onto his feet. It's all a blur - a really bad one like when you're trying to take a picture of a butterfly that's landed on a flower - but you sneeze and it flutters off as gracefully as it had just landed. He feels like the photographer and the butterfly as the lights above him mix into each other in bright streaks. He even feels like his brain has detached and is thrashing around all over the small confinement of his skull.

He's slammed against the tiled platform; hard enough to get all the remaining air that was in his lungs get knocked out of him. Another body is scrambling up to the platform - they wouldn't actually have that much trouble getting up because of how incredibly tall and staunch they are, but they're also extremely jittery and freaked out at the moment, so it's a small struggle.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" A deep and clearly upset voice asks. They slap Zayn's shoulder - hard, and it's like the touch of life for Zayn who snaps back to reality. He sucks in a deep breath and sits up, looking like a frightened child who's just snuck into the cinema to watch The Exorcist. He looks, with his wide hazel eyes at the other man in a white shirt and black jeans. Zayn's jaw hangs open but he can't speak, he can't make a single sound. Did he leave his voice box on the tracks? "ARE YOU FUCKING MAD, MAN?!" The train then rushes past them at an impossible speed and the two men wear mirrored expression of shock and fear as the stinging air hits their skin. Zayn gets up on wobbly legs and looks around slowly, like he's in a foreign country instead of old, dreary London. The other man calms first and runs his hands through his hair - such wild brown locks. With his nerves a bit calmer than before, he reassesses the situation. "Are you okay?" He asks in a much gentler voice - it's still a bit intimidating because of how deep and raspy it is, but you can hear the kindness in it.

"What's your problem?" Zayn asks and the other man's eyebrows shoot up, his green eyes showing such surprise. He opens his mouth to answer but Zayn cuts him off. "Couldn't you just mind your own damn business?!"

"You were about to kill yourself?!"

"Yes and I would have if you had just been on your own way!"