My Sister's Boyfriend ◾ Ziall [EDITING]

◾ 02 ◾

edited: 19-01-2018

◾ NIALL ◾

Being in England has a strange feel to it. I am not sure how or why, but it does. It feels different from both Ireland and Australia. Ireland is more loud than here, and Australia is even more so. Well, from what I know of life in Sydney anyway. One year on exchange there can change your entire perspective of the place.

England has a strange vibe to it, or, maybe, that's just the Malik family. According to the entirety of the family, Zayn is 'abnormally' happy, and that has only been so since I have come to stay with them. They have no idea what has gotten in to him since I have been here. They only have an inkling that it is due to my having a good influence on him. Somehow.

To me, Zayn is your average teenage boy. He likes bikes and many of both gender wanting to get into his pants. He is attractive, I will give him that. Other than that, there's nothing off about him or even the feeling that he is hiding something from his parents and siblings. I can't say too much about his friends. I haven't met them just yet.

Someone knocks on the front door and Zayn rushes down the stairs. I hear the door open and a chorus of yelling from several boys. It seems as though just thinking about the devils will summon them. Out of the ruckus, I hear Zayn yell my name. It's obvious he wants me to go down, and who am I to deny him that?

I reluctantly climb off my bed, with only a roll my eyes to signify that I'd rather be doing something else. As I begin my way down the stairs, a familiar voice breaches my ears and causes me to pause for a second. I have heard that voice before, but where? I brush it to the side and continue my way down the stairs. 

I walk into the entry, stopping dead when I see Zayn and his friends. They're all works of beauty and perfection. Not one hair out of place, nor a dimple missing from their faces. Their teeth are unbelievably white, and their eyes are all gleaming with colour and happiness. They're models compared to me, and I know it more than anyone.

The tallest one has unruly, curly brown hair and emerald green eyes. His dimples are his signature feature on his face, excluding his eyes, and they don't fully vanish when their is no grin nor smirk or smile on his face.

The second tallest has short brown hair and brown puppy eyes. His eyes are distrusting as they scan over my form. He seems to be the 'dad' of the group, but I won't judge him by that. The crinkles by his eyes show that he is one to have a good laugh.

The shortest one is the one that makes me pause. He has feathery brown hair and bright blue eyes. His eyes are cerulean blue and show his life. They tell a story of grief, loss and pain, but also of love, laughter and happiness. He is so familiar, but I can't place him. 

Oh well. Not that much of a deal.

"Niall," Zayn says. "Meet Harry, Liam and Louis."

"Hi," I say quietly.

"Hiya, mate!" Louis greets, slinging his arm over my shoulders. "Call me Lou."

The sound of his voice jars my memory. I remember now. He called the son of the family I was staying with in Australia almost every night. The voice is something that I will never forget, and, yet, I somehow forgot his face. During my time in Australia, I got to know both him and my host family quite well, and I told him some of the things that I have never told anyone.

With Louis being who he is, that means that Harry is the Harry he so dearly adores and loves. My gaze flickers between the two and I notice their small interactions as to not let Liam and Zayn in on their feelings. The small flirtatious smiles, and the small brushing of their hands as well as the looks in their eyes.