Disintegrate - Z.M

5 - wind

Song: 5:15 - Bridgit Mendler

Ali likes to think of herself as a bit of a health fanatic. She only eats sugar or fat on special occasions and runs at least three miles every day without fail. It hasn't always been this way. In the past, she could've gone weeks without even touching a vegetable. But when life happens, you must change, adapt to survive. Now, she has someone to keep her body whole for.

So it's safe to say that when Zayn reaches for that extra biscuit or chooses to spend the day lounging around on the couch, she gets a little pissed. Zayn is not by any means fat. In fact, the last thing he needs is to lose weight. But that doesn't mean his ice cream for breakfast lifestyle is sustainable.

Ali mulls on this as she pulls on her sneakers and laces them up tightly, the deep blue laces tangling around her fingers. She brushes the lint off of her thin jacket and quickly ties her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. Work today had been excruciating, so she needs this. When she runs, she feels fresh, raw, clean. No heavy makeup, no pretty clothes, no tight shoes to hold her back.

When she runs, she feels the kind of calm she thinks you feel when you die, when you let go and give yourself up to oblivion. The wind sifts through her hair and grazes her skin, and the world around her fades out to a quiet stillness. All that matters is the thumping in her ribcage and the aching in her legs.

She wishes Zayn could feel that, if even for a second, but he seems to get the same exhilaration from pop tarts and video games.

She paces down the hall, footsteps thunderous on the creaky wood, and comes to a stop behind the couch where Zayn's sprawled out, legs bending at odd angles and lids half shut. There's a bowl of the caramel popcorn she's told him at least eight times not to touch lying on his lap and a commercial for Coco Pops playing obnoxiously on the screen.

"You're a lazy piece of shit," Ali says fondly, leaning onto the top of couch with her forearms flat.

"Already knew that," he mumbles. Then he proceeds to use his long fingers to pick out a piece of popcorn stuck between his teeth.

Ali wrinkles her nose at the display, and he makes a face at her, eyes crossed and nose scrunched. Silence falls for a moment, and her chest tightens. Her mind flashes back to that day at the grocery store. It did not change things. She will tell herself that until it becomes true.

"Is it weird watching your lover on TV?" she asks, nodding at the ad for the sugary cereal.

"Shut up," he groans. "It was a joke."

"Sure."

She says the word in such disbelief that he opens his mouth to protest. "You-"

"I'm going running," she interrupts. "Wanna come?"

He simply looks at her for a minute.

"That's what I thought," she sighs, turning to leave.

"Wait," he calls to her back. She slowly turns around and raises an eyebrow.

"I'm coming." He sets aside the half eaten bowl of popcorn and stumbles to his feet, giving himself a rug burn in the process.

Ali snorts. "I don't want you to kill yourself."

"I don't want you to kill yourself," he mimics in a high pitched voice.

"Hurry up and change or I'm leaving without you," she calls over her shoulder.

In a record time of ten minutes, Zayn is ready, donning a pair of running pants that look about two sizes too small and a neon green headband. Ali surveys him slowly, distaste clear in her features.

"What?" At this point, he's lying on the carpet, one skinny leg bent, the other straightened, as he strains almost comically to touch his toes.

Ali exhales heavily. "Just don't run next to me."

She's out the door before he has time to ask what she means.

-

Okay, so maybe she's being a bit of a bitch when she chooses the longest, most grueling route to run today. But it was Zayn's choice to come. And besides, a little exercise never killed anyone. Though today, that might change.

Zayn is a good twenty feet behind her, and sweat stains are blooming all over his shirt. They've just hit the mile mark, and already, it looks as if his legs are about to give out. He's panting up a storm. She can hear him, clear as day, but when she turns to look at him, he immediately becomes silent and straightens up as if this is nothing to him. She laughs into the wind and runs a little faster.

They're running in the city, but not the thick of it. Here, the buildings are a little shorter, and the people are a little quieter. There's even room for a scattering of trees with trunks that look too thin to support them. The air is cool, though warmer than its been in months, and the concrete feels solid beneath her shoes.

The dying-but-not-really feeling begins accumulating in her marrow, making her lighter, stronger. She is an ethereal being, unburdened by the troubles of a world that's let her down one too many times. She laughs again and the sound mingles with Zayn's labored breathing and the quiet tread of passerby and the booming hum of existence. Ali is happy. The feeling shouldn't be so foreign, but it's here for now, and she must cherish it. It will leave her.

The sound of breathing behind her becomes softer and softer as the cool wind bounces off of her warm skin. She glances over her shoulder and realizes that Zayn isn't behind her anymore. With a huff, she comes to a stop and plants her hands on her hips. She knew he wouldn't be able to keep up, and now her run is cut short.

She retraces her steps, searching for him on every bench and curb she passes, but he's nowhere to be found. Worry begins to claw at her. He should be here. He should be here, but he isn't, and why did he stop, why didn't he say something, he should've-

Then she sees him. He's standing at the counter of an ice cream shop they passed on their way, arms crossed as he analyzes the menu with intense concentration. The glass windows are wide and clear enough for her to see him. He's ordering ice cream in the middle of November. She makes a sound that's stuck between a laugh and a cry and walks inside the little shop.

The bell on top of the door tinkles prettily, and she smiles at the pale pink stripes on the wall and old-fashioned tables and chairs. This place is so quaint, and for a second, she forgets why she walked in. Then Zayn's voice fills her ears.

"Can I get the rocky road?" he's asking the red-faced teenage girl behind the counter. "And in a cone?" She nods quickly, sneaking little glances at him as she works the ice cream scooper with shaky hands.

She hands him the treat as he hands her the money, and when their fingers brush, Ali's sure the girl is going to pass out. "Thanks, love," he says with a smile, turning around and giving his cone a lick.

When he sees Ali, a little shriek escapes his lips, and he almost drops his cone. He looks at her with wide eyes.

"It's not what it looks like," he stutters.

"Just shut up and get me a chocolate," she sighs.

"You're not mad?"

"Can't say I'm surprised." She turns to go and look for a table, smiling to herself at the quiet chuckle she hears behind her and thinks of the breaks in blackened clouds, where the faintest of light peeks through. In those places, they are safe.

Hope this is ok bc I didn't read over it lol. Srry if I took too long to update. I haven't had time to write lately but I have so many new story ideas (that are very exciting )

Anyway how are u all? I wanna hear abt ur lives bc mine is empty ha ha