Red vs. Black

Chapter 5

Occasionally, Zayn wishes he never quit smoking. Sure his health's benefiting from it, and he's saving his mothers - foster and real - from scolding him to the high heavens, but there are some instances where it seems like the only way for life's stresses to melt away is to suck in as many chemicals as his lungs will allow. Namely, when he awoke in the middle of the night from nightmares worthy of haunting the coldest of hearts. Yet even without a cigarette between his lips, Zayn still finds a small amount of solace in venturing up to the roof where'd he go if he did.

A four story flat doesn't offer much of a cityscape view during the day, but at three in the morning, the darkness of the capital lends itself well to the vista; the lights of the expansive urban area say more than their clear details ever could. If only it weren't so cold.

"Come closer you two."

On command, the wolf on his right and tiger on his left shift so their fur can press closer to Zayn's body. He's wearing the outfit he always does anytime he plans on executing something sinister. Louis likes to call it his "villain suit", and even though that's technically an accurate label for it, Zayn doesn't like thinking of a jetblack, mesh tracksuit as a proper "suit". He hates being categorized as a "villain" too, but there's no room for argument there either. To help with the breeze that's picking up, he pulls out a black lycra ski mask from his pocket and slips it over his head. With his eyes the only part of his body uncovered (a pair of black tactical gloves that he found on Amazon while looking for a way to conceal his identity without breaking his bank, what's taking care of his hands), Zayn zips his jacket so the extra material from the mask can get tucked under and prevent cold air from touching any part of his skin.

Each animal is given short strokes to the backs of their necks, Zeus resting his head on Zayn's thigh and Hera making a few chuffing growls to show her merriment. Flanking him from both sides, they bring Zayn comfort, but not enough to ease the searing ache in his chest. He blames it on the manuscript he was editing before bed and how it revolved around a first year university student struggling to find happiness studying a subject chosen by their parents, hoping that the community art classes they took on the side would be enough to quell their true passion. It's just the right message to welcome a particularly foul memory into Zayn's subconscious.

"That doesn't look like a monkey!" Zayn laughs, his eight year old body rocking backwards in his place on the family room floor. He puts his book down on the ornate rug that covers most of the room and uses both hands to pull his ears away from his head while filling his cheeks with so much air that they sting. The sound of his little sister Waliyha's giggles cause Zayn to break out of his act and make more of his own. "That's a monkey," he insists in Urdu.

"Both of you make wonderful monkeys," his mother says from behind his sister's petite body where she's braiding the little girl's hair across from where Zayn's sitting. For five, Waliyha's dark black waves are long, nearly reaching down to her hips. "And Zayn, your English is outstanding. I don't understand much of it, but your pronunciations sound like the people in the films."

Pride surges through Zayn's skinny figure, a smile so wide on his lips that his cheeks hurt once more. The lamp that lights the entirety of the barren room is just enough to illuminate the pages of the chapter book about zoo animals going on an adventure that's now on the floor next to him. He'd been unbelievably excited when his little sister had seen the cover and asked for him to read it to her as a bedtime story rather than whatever Urdu book his parents typically read. When the two adults and his grandfather voiced their interest in listening as well, the entire family of five gathered in the front room; both bedrooms, the one shared by Zayn's parents and sister, along with the smaller that housed him and his grandfather, were too small for them to comfortably pay heed to the story at hand.