The Fighter - Zayn Malik Featuring

Truck of Snow

Pretty short today...ENJOY! <3

I sat in bed, dazed. Had I really kissed Zayn? Really? All I remember was a feeling of bliss, a feeling of ultimate satisfaction. I remembered whispering, either Zayn or the wind outside the studio. I remember him there, but not seen. I remember him driving me home on his bike, maybe I had been half asleep.

I smiled slightly to myself as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and sat up. I had managed to change into my pyjamas, at least. Moonlight streamed through trees and my window and poured a beam onto my blanket. The wind was still howling outside, an eternal pain. But I didn't mind. After all, Zayn had kissed me. I laughed to myself. ZAYN HAD KISSED ME.

My phone lit up. 

You awake? I can't get to sleep.

It was Zayn.

I gazed out the window, still half asleep. In the corner of my eye I saw a tiny snowflake glistening. I sat up properly, more alert, as more snow fell. It had never snowed ever in Wishleburg. This winter had been tough. It was so beautiful, even better than sunset, the sight of sparkling, silent flakes falling in the moonlight, under dark trees and beaming stars. I was frozen in awe. I wanted to get out of bed, to run out into the snow, but I stayed, lost in the silent beauty. 

It's snowing, Skye! It reminded me of you. Do you still hate Winter now? Isn't it beautiful?

I picked up my phone. Snow had fallen across the yard, glistening in the moonlight.

It is so beautiful, it reminded me of you, Zayn. I can't express how beautiful it is. You know what, I don't think I hate Winter anymore.

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The next morning Zayn came over. Mum was at work.

"Wow, this place is posh."

"It is not POSH! It's...untouched."

Zayn laughed. 

"That fan looks like it hasn't turned on for ages."

"Maybe because it's Winter-did you think of that." We were hyper. 

I dragged him into the kitchen where I had started mixing the cookie mixture. 

"See how proffessional I am!" I turned arount to display the mixture, but knocked the flour instead. Zayn stood with flour dusted in his jet black hair, a smile slapped across his face. I burst out laughing. He touched his hair.

"My beautiful hair! REVENGE!" I squealed as flour flew through the air and powdered my cheek. 

"THIS. IS. WAR!"

When we were finished, we were laughing uncontrollably on the couch, pale and covered in flour as the cookies began baking in the oven. I wanted to ask him about last night's kiss, my memory was blurred. But I couldn't bring it up. That would be too awkward.

"Does your mother know I'm here?" Zayn asked when the laughter died down. His serious face looked ridiculously funny covered in flour and choc chip stains. 

"No...but I think she knows you exist."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Like, she said that something looks different about me, that I have become more positive. She knows that someone is causing me to be...well...better. She said that I have more colour in my cheeks and that I don't look like a stick anymore. She even caught me humming...so I guess she knows you exist." I blurted out.

He smiled warmly and sat beside me.

"Amelia, isn't it, your old best friend? Is it okay if we talk about her?" Zayn asked softly as I let out a deep breath.

"It's okay." I mumbled.

"Have you moved on?"

"Zayn, it's not about moving on from the past, it's about... taking  the valuable elements of the past and taking them for the challenge of the future." I looked at him sharply, he understood. His hand slipped into mine, warm and comforting. 

"When my mother died nothing happened. I was lost in a world of nothing. Dad tried feeding me, but I resisted and I didn't even go to school. I slept for so long, never considering getting up. I remember endless days, I was only about fourteen, just sitting and staring. People talked to me, people tried to get my attention, but Dad said I was always distant, my eyes focussed on something elsewhere. So then people left me. I used up almost half a year just sitting on the back fence doing nothing. I didn't even have the sense to cry. I just froze. People forgot of my voice and moved away." Zayn looked down.

I thought hard. Imagine losing my mother. She was the only person I had left apart from Zayn.

"But then I kinda moved on. Well, I look the valuable elements and took them for the future, as you said." He gave me a side glance.

"I took her love, her beliefs, her faith and the best memories I had with her for the future. I made friends, I got back on with life. But never, for a single moment, did I forget. You can't achieve anything from mourning, just pain. What really counts is getting back up and fighting hard. Then only do you become immune and pure."

He fiddled with his other fingers, of the hand that was not in mine. I leant on his shoulder, to show care that could not be expressed in words.

"I want to go somewhere, Zayn."

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I stood in the slight snow, in a cream coat and scarf with Zayn's hand in mine. It was cold, but I felt warm. I wanted to come 

back here, and with Zayn, I felt I was ready. 

My heart beat hard as I looked at the truck. It was covered in a thin layer of fresh snow, sparkling gloriously. The truck I spent days with George and Dad. Days with Scotch wagging his energetic tail. Days of Amelia and friends laughing crazily. How all that perfection had vanished over one Summer, I thought. How did such flawless bliss disappear from my life? How could all those beautiful people and dog leave me, only leaving the rusty old truck for memories?

I stepped forward, almost slipping in the snow. Zayn grabbed me to stop my fall and lifted me onto the back of the truck before coming up. With Zayn I was immune to the harsh memories, happy but agonising. His warm hand kept me from the old memories. Ancient Autumn leaves were still trapped in the small nooks and crannies, snow falling over them. The memories appeared like a flittering film, I could almost hear George playing with the boxes, almost feel Scotch's shadow behind me, almost sense Amelia's laughter ahead. I felt dizzy, but Zayn's warmth kept me aware.

Snowflakes drifted down, a perpetual sign of nature, one that I didn't mind. I sat on the small bench in the back of the truck, looking up at the tall tree that shaded our faces for endless days, now blossoming in early Cherry Blossom flowers. It made me feel sad. Sad that every little beautiful thing had to go with the gust of Winter wind. George's small blocks still lay scattered beside Scotch's little kennel house, built by me to keep Scotch from the rain in winter. The heart shape Amelia had carved into the wood was still there, my numb fingures traced its intricate detail. 

 Zayn looked around, almost feeling the stories and history of the shabby truck. He sat beside me, hand still in mine. I breathed  in a thin snowflake and his bronze eyes settled on mine. I bit my lip. He was so beautiful. I left the painful memories and leaned into him, his warmth so radiating. His arms wrapped around me, a sign of comfort. I could freeze there, in the truck I had spent all my life in, in Zayn's arms, under a blooming Cherry Blossom tree, in soft snow, feeling content. I tried to look strong, but the memories were so mighty, I knew they had me. But I was safe. Zayn was there. Everyone had left. But Zayn was there.   __________________________________________________________________