Murphy's Law ✔️

Chapter Eight.

Zayn hadn't admitted it to anyone, but he fell in love with Murphy on the first day.

I mean, how could he not? He met her when she was only sixteen, standing in the rain with her dark brown hair plastered to her face. Big, brown eyes looked up at him with wonder when he asked her if she needed a place to sleep for the night, or a hot shower, or a hot meal. She nodded vigorously up at him, trusting the soft tone of his voice and the promise of warmth.

They practically grew up together, you know? And he didn't mean to drag her into the mess of his business, but when his boss stopped by one winter night and spotted the young brunette sleeping on his couch he suggested the idea. Zayn denied it at first- she didn't belong in that type of life, he told him, but then threats were spewed in his face and Zayn realized she was better off working under his watch than anyone else's, and she was set off on the streets not even a few days later.

He grew colder with time; the streets were morphing his mind and maybe he wasn't the best at showing his love towards Murphy, but God did he want to. He loved watching her candidly, when she didn't realize he wasn't asleep and she'd play music and dance and sing around the living room of their shared flat, a long t shirt falling mid-thigh as she sang and twirled to an old jazz tune. It brought a smile to his face and sent electricity through his stomach- he figured she was his, and he figured he was lucky she stuck around.

He could remember the first night she didn't come back home. He got a little too high one night, he'll admit it- he shouldn't have turned his phone on silent- and he woke up the next day to cold sheets and no sight of tangled, blonde hair on his pillow. He sat up in a panic, called her name- screamed it, really- checking the bathroom and the kitchen and the couch before he paced nervously around with the phone pressed to his ear, repeatedly ringing her to no avail. He threw on a jumper and a pair of sweatpants and rushed out of the apartment only to find the girl laying in the hallway, dried blood matted in her hair and stuck under her lip, completely knocked out.

If she was conscious, she would've seen Zayn fall to his knees in shock, try to wake her up- scream for help, for anyone to just get her awake. Eventually an ambulance took her to the hospital and she was given a few staples in her head and some stitches on her chin. Zayn stayed the entire time, despite over two dozen missed calls from his boss, and despite the black eye he'd received later that night for ignoring his "responsibilities". He realized then that he would've received endless amounts of black eyes for Murphy that night, and he also realized how fucked he truly was.

And so, waking up that morning to find an empty bed yet again, he panicked. It started with him moving his palms across the mattress in search of her warmth, and then he opened his eyes with a frown. Abruptly sitting up, he called out her name, and when he received no response, he practically leapt out of bed and bounded around the apartment, his calls becoming louder and more desperate.

He found his phone in the kitchen and saw a few missed call from her and immediately dialed her number and brought the phone up to his ear. Each ring through the receiver had him growing more and more anxious until finally, the call got picked up.

"Zayn," she breathed into the phone, "I'm so sorry, I'm so-"

"Murphy, are you alright? Where are you?" He interrupted her immediately, shaking his head.

"I'm... I'm fine, I stayed the night at a friends house, I-"

"Are you hurt? Send me the address, I'm coming to pick you up."

A sigh came through the receiver and Zayn hung his head, knowing already that she was injured. His hand came up to rub at his face, feeling absolutely defeated at the thought of failing her yet again.