Zayn crashes in his hotel bed, his fingers fumbling as he reaches for his phone and types Harry's number. Harry had said he would be waiting, and when he picks up at the first ring, Zayn has no doubt he was.
"Zayn?" silence "Zayn, are you crying? What happened?! You didn't get any scholarship?! Hey, it's alright. It was just the first day. There will be plenty of opportunities and I am sure -"
"I got the scholarship." Zayn says, his breathing ragged and head aching. He tries to stop the tears but he can't. "And I am happy about it. I really am. But..." Zayn closes his eyes, soothing down slightly as he listens to Harry's soft, rhythmic breathing.
"But?" Harry prompts when he doesn't say for anything for a while.
"I got the scholarship to London School of Arts. The best art school in London? That's the... That's the school my mother wanted me to go when I grew up."
Harry's 'Oh, Zayn.' of understanding speaks so much words that he feels his hand fisting his hair and finds himself crying again.
"I miss her so much," Zayn sobs, his voice coming out rough and gruff. And that's probably when he realizes he has never cried in front of Harry, or anyone. "It's been 6 years but I am still not over it! I am bloody pathetic!"
"No, you are not." Harry is quick to say, and the steadiness in his voice convinces Zayn that he means it.
But Zayn doesn't. Somewhere deep in his heart, he holds himself as the cause of the abuse and his mother's death.
He was six when he had found his mother crying at night in the kitchen, trying to mend her wounds through her blurry eyes. He had asked her what was wrong. He was small and didn't even know what abuse really was.
His mother had said it was nothing, just a few cuts. He had believed her. And believed her for 3 years. Ignored her cries and Davis' drunken fits; waving them off as nothing.
By the time he was 10, he knew something was wrong, but he didn't really believe it until he ran home from school one day, and found his mother hanging from the ceiling, dead.
"Can I call you later?" Zayn says, the weight in his heart growing heavier to an extent he thinks he can't handle.
"I am not going anywhere." Harry says, his voice determined.
Zayn sighs, his breath coming out shaky. He doesn't argue. "Then, distract me."
Harry start singing, then, probably the first thing that comes in his mind, his voice deep and raspy and angelic, and Zayn finds his heart being soothed and warmed at the same time.
"I want you here with me
Like how I picture this
So I don't have to keep imagining
Come on jump out at me
Come on bring everything
Is it too much to ask for something great?"
That's the last thing Zayn hears before he falls asleep.
YOU ARE READING
for your eyes only
Fanficzarry // discontinued Two broken teens. Two depressed lives. One wrong number that changed everything. [ WARNING : Story contains triggering themes like abuse, sexual harassment etc. ] [ STATUS : part 1, completed; part 2, discontinued ]
