Leave {z.m.}

Five

"I'm going to die eventually," Adelaide joked with a soft laugh. 

"I am being serious. We cannot continue to have contact after you go back to America. If this goes on, you will die and I will move on." 

"Well that wasn't very nice," Adelaide frowned and I sighed as usual. 

"You're actually for real right now, aren't you?" She questioned after a short minute. 

I nodded in response.

"Tell me," she encouraged.

"Tell you what?" 

"Your story. Tell me your story." 

"My story? I am not entirely certain of what you mean." 

"Why are you so afraid?" She wondered. 

"I am not afraid of anything." 

"Yes, you are. You're afraid and I know what you're afraid of," Adelaide persisted. 

"Please, do carry on." 

"You're afraid of yourself. I want to know why. The background. The story. Your story," she repeated.

"Why would I possibly reveal anything to you? I don't know you." 

"You know me more than you would know a stranger. You're still here talking to me so obviously I mean something to you." 

"You are clearly mistaken. You are no one. Nothing to me. Nothing." 

Adelaide's eyes went cold and her face paled subsequently. 

"Nothing at all," I reiterated.

"Go to hell," she swore barely above a whisper. 

I watched as she stormed off to the room she had been staying in. She returned with all of her belongings and shoved past me to the front door, slamming it behind her. 

I stood perfectly still in a daze.

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The ticking of the clock on the wall behind me was my only focus as I waited. 

No, I did not know what I was doing here. It was wrong of me, though I could not stop myself. I was not thinking. I was doing. It was foreign to me. There I was at the airport. Waiting. Scanning the crowds. Searching every face for hers. It had been four weeks, two hours and thirty-seven minutes since I laid eyes upon her. How I knew this, I did not know.

I did not know much of anything. I was stuck, stuck inside of a head filled with thoughts that I mustn't have. I sensed them coming. It was like they were sent on a long, treacherous journey, but they found their way back...feelings that is. I had tried desperately to keep them locked away, but they would not silence themselves.

Anywhere I might have went, my thoughts were of her. Though I knew this was dangerous, I could not stop myself any longer. Her voice, her hair, her eyes, her scent, her laugh, her blushing cheeks, the color of her skin. I remembered them as clearly as I could remember my own name, yet I had not known her well. My mind ached to know her. My subconscious mind scolded me though. 

I could not win the battle raging within myself.

My heart had nothing to do with this. She was not on my mind, she was attached in it, but I would not allow my heart to be involved. That was what would metaphorically kill me, and it was what would literally kill her. Since my feelings had came back, dare I said it (or rather thought it), I cared about what might have happened to her. I could not explain the intensity of how much I cared; I did not know it. 

I did not understand it.

I was warned ever since I was young; I could not "fall" for anyone. Disaster was promised in the end. Everything was a complication. 

"Excuse me, sir?" 

A boy around the age of six with huge green eyes and golden-brown hair stood directly in front of me as I rested on a bench. 

"Yes?"

The boy tilted his head to one side as he inspected me. "Are you okay?" 

He played with his hands as he continued to eye me. 

"Yes, why do you ask?" 

"You look sad." 

Did I? I don't believe so. "Oh, I am not sad. I am just confused." 

It did not really matter what I told this boy; he most-likely would not have remembered ten minutes later.

"Why?" The boy's face was so innocent and curious. 

"What's your name?" I inquired, trying to distract him. 

"Harry," he replied with a timid smile. I was going to introduce myself when I heard her voice.

"Zayn? Why are you here?"

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Hi, I'm Izzy. I hope you all are liking this story. I enjoy writing it (: I just wanted to inform you that the dates in this story are different than those in real life, obviously. Zayn was born in 1960, but he looks like a 21 year old. If characters are added and you recognize them, just remember that their birthdays and things like that may not be the same as they are in real life. Just clearing that up. Thank you x