Infectious (Ziall)

Concede.

Dear self,

 

 

I cried myself to sleep last night; not because I'm sad, but because I'm feeble. I thought I was silent enough to keep the sobs at bay, though, apparently, Harry had been awake all that time. He tried to console me the best to his ability; however, I could tell it was somewhat out his comfort zone, something he wasn't quite used to being subjected to. Still, I thank him for the effort, for having enough compassion to not leave me to drown in my own sorrows. I had four cigarettes this morning and I found myself bitterly chuckling at the fact that I chose toxic over Harry's well-cooked omelette and bacon. I guess I never realized how stressed out I was until my fingers itched for a cigarette more than the lustful touches of a man; something about the inhale of the smoke that keeps me at ease, even if it's only for a mere second or two; and then, I thought about the fact that I'm only seventeen or, in other words, remembered I was only seventeen; and I thought about the one thing that Zayn used to always shout my way: "what does a seventeen year old need a cigarette for?" The irony of it all is my habit stems from him, not just because he once smoked, starting at a young age, but because he was the sole reason I did it; and I remember him telling me he stopped when Niall became pregnant, like his smoking habit was some sort of metaphor for being astray, the ashes of every cigarette he ever smoked becoming the thing that set his rightful path ablaze. Niall rid him of that. So, I ask myself, what will be my reason? And to answer his question, I need the cigarette because it fills his absence.

Sincerely,

My father's son.

Corner Café.

[Flashback]

It rained, droplets colliding with the pavement, creating puddles that showed reflections of the gloomy sky and the sole of the pedestrians' shoes. They held their umbrellas high and closely, jogging through the avenue for a source of shelter. It was around ten at night, shops beginning to close and lights beginning to dim, the wanderers speaking loudly through the darkness. "See you later, Liam!" Liam's voice echoed through the night as he returned the farewell gesture, both men heading in separate directions after a evening of beer and sports at the bar; a time when Zayn's drinking was down to a minimum and not problematic at all; a time when he knew Niall would happily allow him in their home, always sweetly asking, "how was your night out?" And that was the moment Zayn looked forward to the most when returning home. He opened his umbrella, and then headed down the street, a gust of wind blowing his way; however, his sense of happiness never faltered.

 

 

 

 

After walking for quite some time, Zayn took notice of the group of men near the closed, liquor store, loitering about. They laughed loudly and spoke even louder over whatever the subject at hand was. Zayn wasn't interested in lingering to hear, feeling somewhat uneasy. The raven-haired man's pace somewhat slowed down; however, he took the initiative to keep his eyes forward, and then continued to walk as if he hadn't noticed them at all; on the other hand, he wasn't able to go unnoticed by them, each man leering at him as if he was some sort of enticing, prize possession. Zayn glanced, but his head remained low, trying to brush past the men that were beginning to invade his space.

He fought and resisted, screams echoing through the silent night; a shiver of fear ran down his spine. Arms grasping him in all directions, leaving him to beg and plead, body being carried into the darkest corner on the darkest street; and his body was touched in ways full of sin; and he wept.

[Present].

"Sir . . . your coffee," Zayn was reeled out of his vivid day dream, the café's barista placing his mug on the coaster in front of him.

"Thank you," he mumbled, taking hold of his cup. Zayn felt nothing short of exhausted. Waking up near a dumpster wasn't exactly what he had in mind, but he wasn't all that surprised either. His life remained downhill, thoughts of what happened to him all those months ago still scarring him. It was a daily battle, the aftermath of being raped. It was a secret that remained harbored within his mind; because he was too prideful, too scared, and too disgusted with himself to share what had happened; and that's where his problems came in with Niall. Because he would rather lie and say he had been having an affair with Liam than reveal the real reason he came home smelling like sex that night.

And a cigarette was tucked between his teeth as he walked out of the café; the sound of him weeping, that night, playing in his head on repeat.

_

Author's Note: I bet none of you were expecting that! (hehe). As a lot of you may know (or for those that have read my other stories), then you know that I like to add some sort of unexpected twist. You were focused on the fact that Zayn "cheated" and that only made it easier to draw your attention away from other things that could've potentially been at fault. So, on the bright side, Zayn didn't actually cheat. On the downside, he was raped and keeps it a secret; thus causing psychological issues. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter xo.