A Brush of Death [z.h]

I

     The lights were flashing around on all the grinding bodies, the music vibrating the whole room, and the heat of all the tightly packed bodies made everyone sweat. Most of the men and women were in skimpy clothing, dancing filthily with one another, but Zayn was dressed with nearly every inch of skin covered. He currently sat on a stool at the bar, a black hat tucked over his unruly hair, thick, woolen gloves covering his hands. The bartender had given him a strange look as he approached, but had gotten Zayn his drink anyway. 

      The coolness of the drink in his hand seeped through Zayn's gloves, but he didn't mind because the rest of his body was sweating. He didn't particularly enjoy that he had to dress like this, but it sure did beat sitting at home and watching crappy television with a bowl of stale popcorn in his lap. At least here he could talk to people and watch as everyone interacted. 

       Zayn's hazel eyes watched as two guys made out heavily close by, one of the boys gripping onto the other boy's hair. Zayn watched as they groped each other, oblivious to the world around them. With a sigh, the raven haired lad turned back to the drink in front of him, wiping sweat off his forehead. 

      "You know that you would probably feel better if you took all that off," a man advised as he plopped down into a seat next to Zayn. He had shaggy blue hair that moved as his head did, streaks of red in it. Zayn took a swing of his drink before he answered, unable to keep his eyes from this man's unnatural hair. 

       "Probably," Zayn sighed, "but I can't take it off. I might hurt someone if I do." The boy laughed and waved the bartender over, leaning forward and pointing to Zayn's drink. The bartender nodded and hurried off to fetch the order. "You're hair is blue and red." 

       "Yeah, what about it?" 

       "It's cool." 

       "Thanks, dude," the man grinned, accepting his drink from the bartender. Zayn sipped on his own beverage, wishing that maybe for once he could drink enough alcohol that he could actually crash a car and die. Oh how he wished that he could kill himself or something. Anything, really, that would end in his life being taken away. "What's on your mind?" 

      Zayn chuckled to himself, remembering back to all the times he had tied a rope around his neck; all the times he had swallowed as many pills as he could; all the times he had leaped off of buildings only to end up breaking legs, no matter how big the fall. No matter what he tried, he seemed unable to die. Most people would kill to have that ability, but Zayn knew what the cost of it was. 

       "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Zayn muttered, finishing his drink before standing up. "It was nice talking with you, but I have to go. I'm exhausted." It wasn't the complete truth, but Zayn also knew that if he had actually told this man that he wanted to go because he was afraid that somehow he would kill someone, this man would think he was crazy. 

        Zayn pushed through the crowd of bodies, cringing every time someone accidentally bumped against him, even though he was fully aware that he wouldn't hurt them unless they touched skin to skin. As he reached halfway to the door, he started to realize how bad of an idea coming to the bar had been. There were just too many people; too many opportunities to kill someone. He mentally slapped himself and began to move more forceful through the sea of bodies. 

       "Whoa, man, no need to push," a man huffed as Zayn attempted to shove him aside. 

       "Sorry." 

       "What's got you in such a hurry anyway?" Zayn was already moving forward before he heard the whole sentence the man had to say, the sweat dripping down his body. He wiped at it quickly, his eyes focused on the door at the front of the building. He was getting closer, yet Zayn felt like he was suffocating. The bodies were jammed against his, an alarm of danger going on in his head. If someone was to accidentally touch his face-even the slightest brush-they would drop dead, and it would be all Zayn's fault for coming here in the first place. 

       Just as a path cleared in front of him, a woman wearing a ridiculously tight, red dress tripped, bringing Zayn down to the ground with him. The boy grunted as she landed on him, his gloved hands coming up to cover his face, as it was the only exposed skin he had to offer. "Oops, I'm so sorry," the girl giggled, supporting her body over Zayn's by her arms. 

        From somewhere a little ways away, Zayn spotted three other girls laughing and watching them, and it suddenly hit Zayn that this girl was trying to get into his pants. "Um, it's okay. Just please, get off me. I'm not someone who you should be with," Zayn rushed, tossing the girl off of him as gently as he could. She huffed and grabbed his arm, nearly making him fall back down on his attempt to stand up and hurry away. 

      "You don't know that. Maybe you're just what I need," she whispered to his ear. Zayn cringed away from her breath hitting his ear, which had found a way to poke out of his hat. "What do you say we go somewhere more private?" 

       "No, trust me, that is a terrible idea. Now, please, let me go," Zayn cried out, tearing his arm out of his grasp. He hated when he came this close to anyone, afraid he'd hurt them. The girl huffed out in annoyance, snatching back his hand. 

       "Why won't you just kiss me?" she snarled, yanking him in, grabbing his face in her hands, and smashing their lips together. Zayn felt his stomach drop, felt a scream bubble in his throat. The girl gasped and pulled away, her eyes wide. "W-What did y-you do to m-m-me?" She babbled, her face losing color. Her knees wobbled, and Zayn caught her just as she fell. 

      Her body trembled and she grew pale, her lips drying up. "I'm so sorry," Zayn whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. He knew it had been a bad idea to come here, yet he had once again ignored his gut. "I tried so hard to get away. I'm so sorry." The girl's eyes were closing, her mouth gasping for breath. Her friends hurried over, screaming at Zayn and grabbing at the girl in his arms. 

       People from around them turned and crouched down to the dying girl. The girls glared up at Zayn in anger, screaming and pointing at him with their red painted nails. Zayn stumbled to his feet as people pulled out their phones to call the police as well as an ambulance. Zayn knew that the ambulance would do them no good; the girl would be dead before they could even finish the call. A man from Zayn's side grabbing his arm, pocketing his phone with his other hand. "You think you're going to get away with this?" He huffed, struggling to place his device into his pants pocket. 

       Zayn yanked his arm free harshly, the man's fingernails clawing at his coat sleeve to get a better grip. Zayn fled from the scene with tears streaming down his face, throwing open the doors. The night was dark, but Zayn knew the way to his house regardless. He dashed down the streets, nearly blind from his tears. 

      He reached the dark building in record time, stumbling in as he always forgot to lock up before he went anywhere. It was times like this that he was actually glad that he forgot, as he didn't think he could unlock it with all the tears streaming down his face. Loud sobs fell from his lips as he closed the front door, leaning his back against it and tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling. 

       "Why?" Zayn cried out to the empty house, "why me? Why do I have to be like this?" There was no answer as Zayn slid to the ground, leaning his forehead on his knees. "This isn't fair. I didn't ask to be like this. Why me?" The darkness comforted Zayn as he cried, something he hated so much, yet it seemed to be the only thing that he could run to without hurting. 

~~

Note: This is extremely late, I know. I apologize for that. I've actually had this typed up for a long time, but I have been really lazy lately and it never got posted. Until now. And I'm not sure if I like this or not, but it's necessary to have it in here, so it shall remain here. 

Thoughts? 

~Rosy