for your eyes only

T W O

"You took quite a long time. I was worried about you, you know."

Zayn glances at his sister as he enters from the window (the perks of living in a single-storied house), and shrugs, not answering.

The platinum blonde sighs audibly. "Well...?" her tone is suggestive and almost hopeful, trying to get him to talk. She was lying on the lower bunk of their bunk bed, flipping with disgust through the playboy magazine Alec gifted him as a joke.

"Well...?" Zayn mocks.

"Aren't you going to enlighten me with what actually held you back so long. Near the dumpsters and it's rotting smell, I may add." Claire says, wiggling her finger at him accusingly.

"As if you haven't heard already." Zayn rolls his eyes, shrugging off his leather jacket.

"Almost." Claire admits, almost sheepishly "I can't hear what the person ... Harry, right? ... was saying. But yeah, I did hear what you said to him. Everything."

"See? You are a sneaky spy!" Zayn teases, humour evidently coating his deep voice.

"Well, so are you, mister!"

Claire rolls up the sleeves of her brown jacket, revealing quite a number of tattoos, and gives Zayn a look.

"Now, are you going to tell me who this Harry is or not?!"

"You won't stop bugging me until I tell you, right?" Zayn sighs, and when Claire gives him a happy nod, he starts (with a very distinct groan), "It was a wrong number. But Clo, as soon as I picked up the phone, I sensed something was wrong. He sounded like he was crying."

"And that's why you asked him if he was okay?"

Zayn raises an eyebrow, making Claire flush in embarrassment.

"Yes." Zayn sends her a smug smirk.

"So ... is he straight, gay or bi?" Claire asks, her eyes drifting back to the forgotten magazine on her lap.

"How would I know?"

Claire shrugs, but Zayn is sure he heard her mutter something underneath her breath. Something along the lines, 'Your gay-dar is broken, I swear.'

Suddenly, there is a loud bang from downstairs, as if someone has shut the front door with a large force, and minutes later, giggles and moans fill the house, along with a distinct sound of clicking of high heels on the wooden floor.

"That could mean only one thing." Zayn states blankly to his frowning sister.

* * *

The next day, Zayn and Claire pad their way into the kitchen when they stop abruptly.

Sitting on the kitchen island, is a blonde women, in nothing but a bathrobe and a towel around her wet hair. She is extremely petite and beautiful. If not for the horrible sneer on her face as soon as she spots them, they may have even considered giving her a chance.

At least, Claire would have.

"So, you both are the worthless children Davis was talking about last night?" she says, her voice high and nasally and annoying.

"Excuse me?!" Zayn's face hardens, and he mentally smirks when the blonde flinches, clearly intimated.

She doesn't back out though. "Oh, Davis and I talked for a while in the club yesterday. Not yesterday night, if you know what I mean." She winks at them, making Zayn and Claire shudder in disgust.

"He told me about you both." She continues, crunching her nose up in disgust when she takes in their appearance, from head to toe "The faggot and the burden."

"Oh!" Claire cries out, looking so mad that Zayn worries she would end up ripping the blonde's hair out.

"Late for school." Zayn says suddenly, and pulls Claire with him before she ends up doing something stupid.

"Why did you stop me?!" Claire hisses.

"What else should I have done? Not stopped you? So that Davis can hurt you again? No thanks, Claire. You are my sister. Even if we don't share the same mother, I love and care about you too much to let you get hurt."

Claire sighs.

And for the rest of the walk they remain quiet, drowning in their own thoughts.