Care for me (L. S.)

12

Sunday the 20th of September | Zayn

The red cylinder swung to the other side of the room when his fist hit it hard. He panted, hitting the punching bag over and over again. His knuckles stung despite the protective gloves. Maybe he was hitting it too hard. Well truth be told; he didn't care. Not about school, not about missing dinner, or anything really.
His fist collided with the leathery material again, sending a flash of adrenaline through his body. The Maliks' underground gym was chilly, which could have something to do with the almost blue-looking lighting. That same atmosphere was carried throughout the house he realized, wiping the sweat off his forehead. The exterior especially looked all tough and harsh; all clean straight lines and steal ceiling-to-floor windows. 

 Feeling how the punching bag absorbed the last ounce of his energy like a sponge, he sat himself down on the floor. He let his back meet with the ground and momentarily closed his eyes, focusing on the sound of his racing heartbeat in his ears. The cold marble felt nice against his skin, and he almost allowed himself a nap right there in his parents' gym. But then he forced his eyes back open and they met the immaculately white ceiling.

Harry's house had friendly red bricks and cottage-styled widows. Even Niall's smelly bachelor pad was cozy in some weird way. Much more than his own cold house that always smelled like dandelions. The place he felt most at home was without a doubt the Payne's household. Something about that place made him happy. But it was hard to put a finger on one specific thing. There was something about the smell of that oh so familiar laundry detergent. Or maybe it was the treehouse in the back yard, that was definitely a bit mouldy and a lot dangerous for small children.

One time, he and Liam were up there for hours pretending to be secret spy-firemen. They had little cardboard weapons and plastic yellow helmets and they talked to each other in a secret spy language that no one else knew. They were about nine when they made this game, so most of the things made no sense at all. Why they had to be firemen as well as spies was one of them. It was especially weird knowing that the spy-part of them was allowed to shoot with fire-guns. He smiled crookedly at the vague memory of the game. He only realized years later that their secret language was just a piece of cake to figure out. If you hit an evil squirrel monster in the head with your fire-spitting gun, you had to scream the words 'head beat' as loud as you could. The evil squirrels became even more violent when you shot them in the head, so it was only polite to warn your fellow fireman-spy of the danger to come. The goal actually was to hit the squirrels in the heart, which meant the evilness would leave their bodies and they would become cute again. This was of course the part Liam made up because he was sensitive like that. Such a shot in the heart was called a 'heart-beat'. It was truly the best game ever invented. No wonder that Zayn always had the biggest tantrums when it was time to go home to his own house. Cold.

He quietly snuck up the stairs, careful not to wake up his little sisters. Trisha was still in Beijing. Or was it Shanghai? His head felt like it was being poked by a thousand needles as he was trying to remember. On the final step, he came to the decision to go outside for some air. Just to clear his mind. Yeah, that'd do. Passing the walk-in-closet on the ground floor, he snatched a black hoodie and an army printed cap from the coat rack and made his way to the front door

The night was cold and coal-black and Zayn quickly pulled the soft sweater over his head, put the cap on and covered it with the hood. That would do.
He took his car keys out of his back pocket and unlocked his Ferrari. He fished his old weekend bag out of the trunk and closed it with a smack.
With a smooth motion, he tossed the bag over his shoulder and then he jogged down the driveway.

As it was nearly midnight, the streets were empty and quiet. Not too sure about where he was headed, he started walking towards the center of town.
He felt the blood pumping through his body and the wind in his face and he just walked. He wasn't even thinking about anything, only focusing on his breathing. He felt like his body was completely drained of emotion, but at the same time everything felt so overwhelming that he felt like passing out.