not okay {ziam}

seventeen

{seventeen}

nothing to lose

-

i catch the train alone without much convincing.

zayn isn't the type to be desperate for my company, he saw me as much of a convenience to his boredom than anything else. even if it was clear that i didn't want to see him anymore and that our relationship couldn't continue. he willingly abided to my severance from him, as i rejected his hasty attempt at a disingenuous apology. he wasn't actually sorry for anything and me wanting honesty from him was frankly asking for something he wasn't capable of giving.

"don't follow me." the words fall from my mouth without much thought, as we stand in front of the train station and he smokes his marlboro reds.

he barely looks at me with his melancholic glazed eyes, shrugging his shoulders heedlessly at my bitter dismissal. once he stubs out his cigarette on the footpath and inhales one last deep hit from the infectious nicotine, the boy nods swiftly. resembling a phantom, he begins to fade with every second that ticks by. would he continue to haunt me, or... was this simply our last goodbye?

grey smoke flees from his serene lips, rasping out a monotonous and final, "—okay."

i assume the latter - as i turn and trudge down the steps into the underground station, digging my teeth into my gums. as i reached the bottom, i grew outrageously forlorn, and couldn't even help myself from glancing over my shoulder for him. he had disappeared as quickly as an afterthought and again, i didn't know how it made me feel. maybe i hoped for something more in the fluffy part of my brain, but it was transparent that he wasn't fond of me. so i wait for the train with wet eyes and an ounce of betrayal keeping my vitals respiring.

while clutching the pole inside of the light rail, i glare at my reflection across the starry windows. my face is all puffy and the bones in my shoulders peek through the white fabric of my school uniform. my hair had yet to dry from the rain as it slowly grew into a curly mess atop my head. i looked smaller, fragile, fucking irreversibly pathetic — and i hated how much of my life was wasted on tragedy. maybe zayn was right, maybe my victimhood is due to my fault.

it's in my moments alone that it dawns on me that i have possibly spent too much of my time wondering if my misery is entirely circumstantial or just simply a flaw of mine.

as i exit the train and enter the once-cheery town i grew up in, a wave of utter perplexity crashes into me. in the quiet, desolate night as i walk along the abandoned streets, i question if i overreacted or made a mistake by disbanding from zayn. the chill of midnight curls around my body, like a needy reminder of my dreaded solidarity and grief. these insidious thoughts rush through my head like a flash flood without any warning and suddenly i'm reminded of zayn's cruelty and the piercing danger i felt in his presence.

suddenly there's a sound behind me as i check over my shoulder with a pounce, only realizing it's a lifeless autumn leaf scraping across the pavement from the slight breeze. continuing forward towards my neighborhood and the unlit houses that i memorize in the crooks of my mind, i wonder, what is zayn capable of?

i walk home and in that moment, i decide i have made the right decision. even if it meant i had to choose loneliness over him, so be it. i had survived so much of my life alone and i could do it again, even if the thought terrified me more than anything.

that night i arrive home and lie in my bed, gaping at the mildewed ceiling above. driving myself mad with my silent debate and the violation that sticks to my flesh at what was revealed tonight. a part of me wished i'd just fall asleep and never wake up again, as every little suspicion i had buried deep down inside of me rapidly thrums in my chest like a seeping wound.