forty-one || A not so pleasant evening

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6 hours later
Monday evening
6.32pm
Malik Residence

"Mom! Have you seen my student card?" The sixteen year old yelled from his messy room as he searched for his specific school ID. It was no where to be found. He turned his whole room upside down as he desperately looked for it, needing it to give back the books he took home with him from the town's local library a few months ago.

"Have you looked in the dirty laundry pile?" He heard his mother yell back from her bedroom, the boy rolling his hazel eyes at that. "Yes, mom. I've looked everywhere, it's nowhere!" He almost screamed out of frustration, throwing all of his clothes around in hopes he missed something, but he's been going through everything three times already. Nothing.

As if today hasn't already been a huge disaster. After what happened earlier in the cafeteria, Zayn hid himself in the boys' locker room. He couldn't bare facing everyone after receiving such humiliation again, so his only hide out was the locker rooms until school was over. Once he thought it was safe, he went straight home, avoiding everyone as best as possible. Luckily he had some spare clothes in his gym locker, having had the chance to change and escape the school grounds in time. And now here he was, looking for his student ID which he swore he still had on Saturday.

"Maybe it's downstairs somewhere." Trisha said once she approached her youngest son's room, shaking her head disapprovingly at the mess. "Do you even know what is dirty and what is clean?" She referred to the pile of clothes on the ground, giving her son a look of horror. As a mother, you hate to see your child's room be a complete mess.

"Yes," Zayn replied, "if not, I can just check the scent and see if it's still wearable."

"Just like your brother." Trisha muttered and pinched the bridge of her nose before leaving the room. The boy snickered a little at his mothers reacting and made his way out of his room, bolting down the stairs and turning everything into a mess as well. His father was just casually sitting back in his arm chair, watching the late night news and not bothering to tell his son anything about the mess he was making. He was too busy focusing on the world wide news instead of that.

Zayn crawled on the floor to check every single corner, making sure he didn't drop it anywhere. He huffed and sat up, rubbing his face. He knew he had it somewhere, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Their doorbell suddenly rang out of the blue, making the sixteen year old look up from what he was doing. He checked the time and narrowed his brows. "Are you expecting the guys?" He asked his father since sometimes he would host a poker night or the game night, giving him a questioning look.

Yaser just shook his head in respond and kept his gaze on the television, making Zayn roll his eyes at him. "Okay then." He muttered under his breath and got off the floor, walking towards the front door. He unlocked all the locks and opened it, eyes meeting two police officers standing in the doorway.

"Uh, how- how can I help you, officers?" Zayn stuttered a little as he saw them.

"Are you Zayn Malik?" The tall one out of them asked the teenage boy, one of his thick brows raising in question.

"Y- yes, that's- I'm him." The dark haired beauty nodded his head and gulped a little.

"We're gonna have to ask you to come with us." The other one spoke up and motioned towards the police car.

"What? Why?"

"You'll find out at the station."

"But I don't know what I did."

"That's what they all say."

"No, I'm serious. I don't know what I did wrong."

"Is there a problem here, officers?" Trisha's sweet voice appeared from behind Zayn, his mother taking a step beside him to see what was going on. She looked up at the two young men, leaning her head a little to the side in confusion.

In the eyes of the Broken hearted & My heart in your Fingertips || ziam mpreg✔️Where stories live. Discover now