twisted 》 zarry au

Four: You better run, run

so i'll probs not blabber too much shit on this chapter and start to be a good writer and make good frequent updates (well i'll try ) ya!!!!

however, sadly, there are probs not gonna be any dramatic feels in this chapter but don't worry, there's more to come! soz for the disappointment but i'll try to fit some zarry in asap, okay?

okay.

you may continue.

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"Get in the damn truck already," came another scratchy command from the old, gruffy man with a huge belly beside him.

Zayn groaned internally, trying to desperately cover his nose in the most inconspicuous and dainty-looking way, so as to not arouse suspicion from the peering glances of the males- who resembled more like hawks, around him.

Zayn hated this. His slim, petite frame was literally being crushed by the males of all sizes, some who were of a pretty decent built; whereas for some... Zayn didn't even want to think of bulging flaps with dimple-like effects protruding from some of their stomachs.

What made things possibly even worse was the lumpy man who stood with a grim expression on his face, body reeked of extremely unpleasant odour. This made Zayn want to puke again, even though he was already bulimic.

His face was, no doubt, was up till the height of the man's pungent armpit.

Seriously, I've never come across sitting on such an odd tour bus with so many people, and I'm not even gonna lie, they're all males. What even..?

Zayn shifted impatiently.

Just another ten more seconds and I guarantee that I will be pronounced dead from windpipe arrest. (A/N okay maybe I kinda exaggerated the last one a bit)

"Okay!" The burly man, whose name I heard was Rick, threw his hands up in satisfaction.

Pfft, finally.

"We'll be heading to our planned destination, so sit tight and make sure that each and everyone of you are fastened securely to your seat. Is that okay?" The man clasped his rough-looking hands together, leering over every single male to check on them.

A couple of enthusiastic 'yea's echoed off the tiny, cramped spaces that sheltered the different characters from the harsh Britain weather.

As time went by, Zayn observed the breathtaking scenery around him; road after road, street after street, mile after mile. But the journey still seemed unpromising and never-ending.

*

It was not until he felt a light shaking of his shoulders when Zayn stirred in his sleep drowsily, swatting away the hand that was slightly tickling his neck.

"Hey," A soft, gentle voice travelled through Zayn's earbuds which made the latter groan in annoyance of being disturbed, especially when he was half-asleep.

Waking the half-Pakistani up and forcing him up on his feet during his extremely drowsy state was even worse than stealing a Gucci bag.

"Hi?" Another cautious whisper was directed through Zayn's ears. As if on cue, the unknown hand which had previously touched Zayn was suddenly caught in mid-air and twisted back with so much force that the injured man was now crying out in pure agony.

"Ow! What the hell?" The man, who was previously squealing like a teenager, whined in pain.

Zayn scanned the mysterious stranger in front of him: hair stylistically up in a quiff, defined face structure - there was just not a single flaw about this guy's features.