// 50 shades of black // zjm

Part 4

I woke up early today, around 7 in the morning-no 6 actually, im not sure Its hard to tell time in Europe. I went out on the balcony smoked a cigarette and stubbed my toe on the railing. I cursed for about thirty minutes before laying back on the bed. Zayn of course was already gone, probably a meeting. I had no clue when he would be back which gave me time to think things through. Zayn had been acting completely different last night, after we got a little drunk he made me listen to his new album and then asked me what my favorite song was and I said 'girl almighty" then he continued to tell me that girl almighty was his favorite song and that meant we were soul mates. I told him love didnt work like that and he got mad. He threw a fit got high and then fell asleep.

I was snooping. Okay its bad its a bad thing but It was completely necessary. I actually didnt know much about Zayn just the basics. I wanted to know more about him. As I unzipped his luggage wrinkled clothes came flying out, Armani, Ralph every expensive brand you could think of landed in front of me. After that came a folder full of scheduled interviews, meetings and other things that made my head hurt. And last but not least came his leather journal. Zayn wasn't the type to talk about anything personal. He was quiet and only spoke when he felt it necessary. The journal of course opened to a page with "Malik" scribbled in a boyish font. I flipped to the next page and I smiled when I saw a doodle of a boy with dreadlocks sitting on top of a sphere, holding a joint in one hand. The next few pages were funny doodles, some serious and some .. just strange. And then i found it, what i was looking for. I knew Zayn was a writer the boy was always quoting famous literary pieces when he was coked out. But this hit me hard. I read until my eyes burned.

It read:

"its late and im feeling icky. but I've got quite the story.. when I was little my pops would always get on to me if I wasn't showing my manners. I remember once in a restaurant, I was sat with my dad I couldn't have been older than ten, I sat there with him and in came an old very fragile lady holding on to her cane as if it that cane was her only comfort. I stared for a while but my dad slapped my hand reminding me of my manners. He told me that staring was rude and unnecessary. Well yesterday, at barely 21 years old i had more than 60,000 people staring at me. They stared at me, they never looked away. I called my dad after that show and told him about it and his response was that I asked for them to stare at me, that I couldn't compare to the old lady because she didn't ask for it. I asked for this? When? I asked for millions of people to make my life a living hell? God. God if you're really up there can you come down here and attend me, I'm a selfish man"

When I was done crying like a fucking child I put his stuff away. And like an ongoing cycle in came zayn. He was in his giuseppe z shoes , freshly shaven and in a suit. He glanced at me for a second and then looked down at his phone before tossing it on the bed. His hand reached for the bag I had just zipped up and snooped through. He stopped and pulled a bag out of the side pocket that I hadn't checked. It was weed. He took his suit jacket off and laid down on the bed. "be a doll and pass me my pipe baby" I reached towards the counter and grabbed his glass pipe. He murmured a thank you and stuffed the bowl not caring about dropping his expensive purple haze all over the bed. His head fell back as he exhaled and after just a few hits he reached his high. He quickly grabbed his eye drops. "I have to go back for an interview do I look okay?" he asks me as I sit on the edge of the bed.

"yes" I lie.

There's silence and he lays down.

"can I fuck you before I leave?" zayn asks. I shrug my shoulders.

"come here" he whispers.

His eyes compelled me and I moved towards him. His soft thin lips reached for my neck and I gave way, letting his pink fingers tuck my hair behind my ear.