Red vs. Black

Chapter 15

Packing's never been Zayn's favourite activity, not even for a quick weekend trip. It brings back too many destructive memories. Perhaps if he stopped using the raggedy suitcase that's featured in most of them, he'd be a lot better off. Then again, tossing the old thing might just dig him deeper into his familiar hole of torture rather than subdue the misery.

Out of the shower, he checks the bag to make sure that he's got what he needs for a weekend at The Payne's, moving on to his shirtless body afterwards. A quick scan of his skin shows that all of his tattoos are accounted for, the robot he let loose to tidy up the flat when he got home from work an hour ago is sitting upright, content with a long, single-lined smile on his inner right forearm and wearing Zayn's bulky earphones. His bandana, the same one that Liam had returned the day following his slicing mishap without anything other than a meaningful "thank you" (the lack of commentary on the cut's quick heal was both relieving and slightly concerning), is wrapped around his right elbow, on display in all its glory until it's to be of use once again.

As he zips up the bag, a red strand of ribbon nearly gets stuck in the tracks. He tucks it back down inside, making sure that the box wrapped in brown butcher paper that it's attached to is still in good condition, same with the second gift that looks identical.

"Why are we taking chicken karahi with us if the reason we're going to Faizan's house is to have dinner?" Zayn finally asked one day, tired of being confused on the matter after wondering why visits to family friends always involved counterintuitive practices.

"Because, you should never go to another person's home without a gift," his mother had told him. "No matter how big or small."

The two candles - one for Liam's parents, and the other for his sister as a birthday gift - are still in pristine condition from when he picked them out mid-week in a need to get out of the office for fresh air and new faces. At least, that was the mindset Zayn had leaving his desk. Ten minutes into browsing the aisles and sniffing coffee to offset the various scents, he needed to check himself before setting the clerks hair on fire when she continued to insist he smell the lit candles she brought over to him.

"Where are you going?" Harry asks over the back of the sofa when Zayn emerges from his room, bag in hand.

"Out," he answers, slipping on his shoes by the door. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, I'm staying here."

"Glad we got that cleared up."

The door slams shut.

It feels odd for Zayn to lie to his brother about something as trivial as going to Wolverhampton for the weekend, but it's necessary if he wants to avoid seeing how wide Harry and Louis' eyes can get or how high their brows can rise hearing that Zayn agreed to meet one of his significant other's family.

He may have been in a handful of relationships since fifteen, but none of them included families. As a teenager, he'd cross paths with parents at events or via waving at them as they stood in the front window watching their daughter walk up the driveway after a date. When he got older, he almost always managed to dodge the conversation by pulling the work card. Eventually, that excuse lost its power with his longest relationship of a year and a half. Zayn had no choice but to be brutally honest and say that he just didn't find it emotionally healthy for him to come over for Christmas. It had been a play with just enough truthfulness for the man to respect and not push. Zayn actually remembers him being quite pleased with the confession and the fact that he had been given a look into his enigmatic boyfriend's feelings after all that time.

For a twenty-seven year old with as descent of a track record with lovers as he has, Zayn really shouldn't be experiencing this much dread over an introduction. Except it wasn't just a meal, it was a full on weekend retreat (Zayn's still astonished that Liam allowed himself to leave early on a Friday and take off Saturday). And under their roof. He'd have nowhere to escape. Fucking morning spell that he always fell victim to. If he'd been fully awake, or at the very least, not as high off hearing his three word profession be reciprocated as he had been, he wouldn't have ever agreed to this. And if he had one working brain cell, he would've swallowed his pride and asked Harry how to keep himself in one piece, because his gut instincts and the first page of Google search results for "how to act when you meet your boyfriend's parents" probably isn't going to cut it. Especially not if he can't even make it off the train to the midlands without his nerves getting called out.