The Troubled Bunch - Bad Influence

Chapter 5

Zayn's POV

I woke up around 5 and everyone was still asleep. Perfect. Ever since Kat arrived I've been craving a smoke.

I slide out from beneath Kat and put on a shirt. I creep onto the balcony and light up a cigarette. I inhale and exhale, relishing the flavor of tobacco. I just watch the sun rise and smoke. I got my best mate back. This is the life.

Halfway through my cig I hear the door open. I quickly extinguish the cigarette and flick it below.

"I saw that, liter bug," she teased the blanket wrapped around her body.

"Have a good night's rest?" I ask. She beams at me.

"I did, quiffy. For once in a long time, I did." She snuggles her head in the crook of my neck. All of a sudden she stiffens.

Kat's POV

I look Zayn straight in the eyes and ask, "Were you smoking just now?"

"No. Why would you ask that?"

"Zayn, don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

I push away from him and yell, "You smell like cigarettes, you ass!" I start hitting Zayn with the blanket, his arms guarding his face. "You promised you would try and stop! You promised!" Tears started flooding my eyes. I stopped hitting him. "I'm not going to lose you, too." I say. He brings me in for a hug. The memories of us as kids infect my brain like a virus.

It was a year after I moved to England. Zayn was finally comfortable and secure with himself. Well, as secure Zayn could be at that age. We were snooping around my mom's room when we found a pack of cigarettes.

"I've never tried one of these before," Zayn had told me.

"There's a first for everything, Zany boy! I know! Let's go on the roof and give it a try!"

He agreed, of course. I was always the bad influence in the equation. I lit up both of our cigarettes and we took deep breaths. We kept sputtering and coughing at first, but then it became easier. We did that three times a day every day for a year. Little did I know, even though I was having a great time, I was killing both myself and my mom.

Zayn and I didn't know about her lung cancer. We didn't know that in us smoking on the roof three times a day was affecting her lungs. We didn't know that with every cigarette we were taking off minutes of her life.

If I hadn't smoked, I wouldn't have affected my mom. She might've had time to recover and be well. Zayn wouldn't be addicted right now. My dad wouldn't have had to use alchahol to cope. I probably would have an extra year of life, maybe more.

Most importantly, my mom wouldn't be dead.

By this time I was bawling.

"Take off that fowl shirt, already. I'm going to hurl." He did so; I soaked his chest with my tears I have been trying so hard to suppress for the past four years. "It was my fault Zayn. It's my fault she's dead."

"Don't say that. We both know that isn't true. We didn't know." He swayed me side to side.

"We both know it is. If I hadn't pressured you into smoking, you wouldn't be addicted. You'd have perfect lungs, not shriveled up, black, charcoal lungs like me. I infected you. I ruined you, Zayn." He looks down at me, making sure I can clearly see his face.

"Don't you dare speak like that ever again. Remember last time you spoke like that?" Yes. "You tried to kill yourself. Now, where would I be then? I would have probably tried to kill myself, too. If you hadn't stood up for me, I'd be depressed and suicidal. I'd still be that scared little rabbit. It's thanks to you I finally got the guts to try out for the X-Factor."