the boy who loved the moon «on hold»

two

I felt my ankles wobble and my knees shake as I took another step forward. Zayn's arm tightly wrapped around my waist, trying to keep me from falling on my face like the idiot I was. Because that's what I felt like, a complete and utter idiot.

"Careful, Morgan," he chuckled as my ankle gave again, making me stagger forward before his arm caught me. I groaned softly, my head pounding and my stomach turning. Of course I had to have those five one last drink's. At least, I think they were five.

"My head hurts," I slurred slowly. I think I said it loud enough for Zayn to have heard me, yet he didn't reply as we kept walking down the street.

"I'll be a good guy and just take you home, okay?" Zayn murmured, his breath brushing against my ear as he exhaled afterward. I tried to stop to look at him, but I was only able to turn slightly, swinging my arms on his shoulders.

"I... I can't go home..." I confess slowly, closing my eyes to settle my stomach a little. Zayn looks at me as if I've just said the most incoherent thing one could, even though earlier tonight I started talking about that one pet hamster I killed. Great.

"What do you mean you can't go home?" he wonders, his honey-colored eyes fixed on me. I had already started hating the way he looked at me, as if I was something unbelievable and extremely delicate. Did he look at all the girls like this?

"I-I can't, Zayn. Please don't... don't take me there," I practically beg, and I can feel my lip turning into a soft pout just as I finish. It's not like I know I'll convince him by pouting, but it's something that just comes naturally right now and I can't seem to stop it. I hear him sigh the slightest, closing his eyes for a moment thinking.

"Fine," he breathes, slowly opening his eyes, "I'll take you with me. Just for tonight, Morgan." I can feel my shoulders being shifted and Zayn started walking again, turning to the right after a few steps. I hadn't noticed the rusty old beetle to our left until the moment Zayn opened the passenger door swiftly. I closed my eyes for a moment to try to catch my breath, and I felt how Zayn's hand slowly curled under my thighs, lifting me off the ground. His hands were warm, I could feel it through my T-shirt and at the back of my knees. His fingers felt ragged and callused, from long hours of labor. I never even asked him what he did. He closed the door after I was safely inside and buckled in, walking over to his side. He swung in pretty quickly, turning on the engine and zooming away just as fast.

The drive went by in a blur, buildings and trees and people swarming past us in seconds. I can't say I know where he was taking me and I can't say I know where I was. To be honest, I might as well be going to another city and I might not know it.

Zayn parked in front of a red brick building, its white window frames and wide door welcoming. I was too focused taking in the details of the building –the spray painted walls, the weathered and scuffed old door, the decayed fire escape– to notice how he walked to my side and opened my door, extending his hand to help me out of the car. I lifted my hand, letting it fall on top of his, not quite yet processing what was going on. Zayn's other hand found the top of my head –probably to make sure I didn't hit it with the doorframe– and he pulled me out, his arm once again falling on my waist to help me move. He literally dragged me up the stairs to the door, opening it swiftly to fit the both of us through.

"Goodnight, Bud," Zayn called out, making me raise my head. I hadn't noticed the small reception-like desk set up there, a guy seated behind it. His face was oval-shaped; his hair sort of square-cut and his eyes were this sort of bluish green that almost literally popped out of his head. He typed away on a computer and only bothered to look up when he heard Zayn's voice calling to him. The guy, Bud, smiled crookedly at us, his eye almost sending a wink. 

"New conquest, Zayn?" he half joked, half sneered, as if it was rather common for Zayn to get home with a girl under his wing. I chose to believe that wasn't true.

"You wish, man," Zayn sort of huffed, and I instantly wanted to disappear. Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot, I couldn't help but think. Zayn didn't even bother to look at me as he kept walking, which mainly surprised me since I didn't even know how I was still on my feet.

"Dude," a voice, rather feminine, rung beside Zayn, as if he had walked into it. I turned my head, careful not to make myself more nauseous, finding a girl standing beside him. She had dark hair that stopped around her shoulders, longer than mine. Her face was really something, features soft, her eyes piercing through the dark. She was definitely pretty, I'll give her that. I even felt self-conscious for a moment.

"Sorry, Avery, I wasn't looking." I took a moment to look at her, trying to engrave her face and voice in my head. I hadn't noticed Zayn kept walking, again, hauling me along with him.

"It's okay," she added discreetly before turning to Bud, "I'm going out for a moment, can you please be on the look out for Jake?"

"Come on, Morgan," Zayn urged me on, making me turn to look at what was in front of me. I stumbled a little as he finally stopped, my eyes going from the floor upwards.

Shit, I thought. 

Stairs. It had to be stairs.

A soft sigh escaped my lips as I realized I had to climb up, and not only that, but who knows how many floors. I could only hope Zayn didn't live in the top floor. I saw at least 5 floors when I was seeing the building from the outside. How the hell am I–?

"Eeek!" I squealed as I felt Zayn's strong arms lift me up again, his hands gripping at my skin. "Zayn, put me down," I nearly demanded.

"It took almost 20 minutes to get to my car, and it was just around the block. I'm not going to wait an hour for you to walk three floors up," he explained as he trudged up the stairs. I didn't want to complain further, so I just hooked my arms around his neck, looking at the side of his face as he kept walking up the stairs. The palm of my hand brushed up against his hair, the stubble on his chin and jawline barely noticeable through the poor lighting. I could still see his auburn eyes burning, more awake than ever. And as I let my fingers curl against his dark mane, my eyes drifted shut, the amber still shining in the corners of my mind.