everything i've learned and the things i've seen, it shatters inside of me. i don't know why it's taken me this long, why i refused to see him for who he really is. why i don't shrink from him, as i declare aloud without any hesitation or ambiguity...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
i jolt awake in an uncomfortably warm room. blood starts to rush to my head as i blink rapidly, taking in my surroundings. the walls are a deep navy blue and there are two large, quaint windows displaying the morning light outside. my eyes adjust to the blossom trees rustling through the wind and the pink flowers that descend harmoniously. the silence is paralyzing as i blink away the blur painting my vision. suddenly my mouth burns from the dryness in my throat as my head begins to pound viciously. the details of the room i'm lying in clutter inside of my mind with endless possibilities and unease. where am i? how did i get here? what happened?
vaguely, my hands brush across the soft sheets yearning for some sort of grounding. yet as i get lost in the pleasant feeling of the bed beneath me, i see zayn fast asleep beside me.
he isn't wearing a shirt and all i can see is his exquisite back. i gaze at the tattoos that wrap around the nape of his neck and his strong arms curled under the pillow. his agile hips twisted into the bed and the way he peacefully sleeps beside me causes my vitals to thrum with affection. i had to get up before i woke him, before i'd reach out and touch the coils of his hair spiraling down his cheek. i needed to get away from his scent to breathe and adjust. however, when i stand, i suddenly feel horribly disoriented and nauseated.
i assumed this is zayn's bedroom, as i take in the matureness of his space that smells exactly like him. there isn't much detail, it's clean and impeccable, really. his floors are a dark hazelnut and there are a chest of drawers without anything placed on top of them. i see zayn's jeans on the floor and an empty pack of cigarettes crushed up beside them. it seemed it was the only evidence of this place being his. everything was perfectly allocated, as if it were a museum and we were the exhibits behind the glass.
there's a framed drawing on the wall beside the windows that i step closer to examine. as i take in its fine lines and the subtle beauty of the artwork, i discover that it's an anatomy of a heart. it details every vein and artery with only a thin black sketch, yet it feels as if it's breathing across the canvas. it entices and bewilders me all at once, the realism of the organ across the page and how delicate it looks. in the tiniest letters at the bottom right corner, i see zayn's name engraved into it ever so slightly. as if it were an afterthought.
an urge to leave storms through me, as i note the contrast between zayn and i's bedrooms. the elegance of his territory and the bitter unwelcome of mine. i couldn't adjust to what it felt like to be somewhere warm and comfortable, rather my brain began to pierce with painful uncertainty. the smell of mold and the dampness of the shed i live in became a habitual routine i didn't break. i couldn't handle this change of environment, i couldn't handle the tranquility of it. the dust that settles from each step that i take, disappearing once i've exhaled into compliance. i begin to sway as memories of my father invade me, my ears ringing with a familiar scream from last night. my fingers begin to tremble, as the force of my panic pushes me towards the door closest to me. there's another doorway on zayn's side of the bed and it's then i don't know which one is the exit.
