Halfway Across The World (A Zayn Malik Fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve

A/N: I think I'm gonna start writing in Mariam's POV, unless specified otherwise.

As time continued on, so far summer was sucking. I couldn't get out of the house because Yaser thought he was doing me a favor by bringing Zayn here. Yet, Zayn is the only reason I'm not having fun. I felt like I was stuck in some kind of jail with a dead beet named Zayn Malik.

I wanted to hangout with my friends, play badminton with the others, go to the market, anything.

"Yaser, I'm going to pick up ingredients for tonight's dinner." I yelled, hoping he wouldn't stop me.

"Wait!" he yelled.

I internally groaned as he approached me with quick feet.

"Yeah?"

"Zayn!" he yellled.

Zayn stepped out of his room like a bear who just slept through hibernation. His hair was not gelled up like usual, it was matted to his face. I don't know why I was so attracted to him. It was an unusual feeling.

"Go with Mariam," Yaser ordered. I was a little taken aback.

"Where?" Zayn replied in a groggy voice. He must have been sleeping again. I swear that's all he does. Other than eating and showering.

"Market. You need to get out of the house."

Zayn was hesitant at first, but eventually agreed.

"Go fix your hair," Yaser snapped.

"It's fine." Zayn waved him away.

"No, it looks you just got done getting high, go fix it." Yaser replied.

"It is okay, Dad."

Yaser scoffs, "Mariam, do you think it looks fine?"

I gulped. Did he have to ask me?

"Uh.." I stuttered. I looked up to Zayn, smirk plastered to his lips. Looking at Yaser, his face was neutral but I could tell he wanted me to agree.

"It's.. It--.. It's" I stuttered.

"Huh?"

"Let's get to the store, who knows if they'll even have a sale!" I offered knowing Pakistan never has sales on groceries.

Zayn scoffed.

"At least put on a shirt, beta," Yaser pleaded.

Zayn rolled his eyes, going back to his room to get quickly changed in a shirt.

"Mariam, be careful of him. He's moody," Yaser winked, teasingly.

I smiled, but resisted saying anything back.

Zayn came out, maroon t-shirt on with black trousers. It was interesting seeing Zayn with his hair not gelled up. He looked like a tired puppy. It was the greatest thing I've ever seen.

We began walking, duputta* over my hair, head tilted downward. It was so awkward walking with Zayn, no speaking.

All of a sudden, I hear the daily men whistling as they drove by.

"What was that?" Zayn asked confused by the way the men disrespected me.

"Wow, Yaser was right. You really don't know much about your home country." I smiled at the thought of Yaser.

Zayn scoffed, rolling his brown, caramel eyes. "That wasn't the answer I was looking for."

"The men here are rude and despicable. You want to know the reason you're really here with me?" I turned to him.