Diana*Zayn Malik*Completed

Reads 10,874
Votes 418
Parts 28
Time 1h 37m

Reads 10,874
Votes 418
Parts 28
Time 1h 37m

depression diana onedirection zayn zaynmalik

I stared at the girl in the mirror, letting out a few choked sobs. I couldn't do this anymore. I grabbed the bottle from in front of me and took a deep breath. This was it.All Rights Reserved

depression diana onedirection zayn zaynmalik

28 parts

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He always picked on me, and only me. My friends didn't see my problem with him, and they clearly couldn't understand mine. Mr. fucking Styles would be the death of me. *I'm re-writing this so it might be some what similar to the original! I promise this one is supposed to be better written*

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"Did you honestly think I would't find you, Blondie?" Zayn crossed his arms. "Actually, I hoped you wouldn't.. But yeah somewhere in there." Niall says. "Sassy, are we?" Zayn put on and amused smirk. "Zayn, you can't get away with it this time. I have friends. They'll report me-" "But I texted them all. Saying you had to go see your mum in an institution." Zayn smirks. "How long have you been watching me?!" "Long enough. Theres something you should know, Blondie," Zayn bends to Nialls ear, "No escaping this time. Im your worst nightmare and your wildest dream."

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Zayn is bored with his life. He has friends, but he feels like he's the annoying one that no one likes, so he doesn't really open up to them. He loves singing, and music generally, but he also likes visual art such as photography and paintings. One day he finds himself in front of a gallery that's selling photographs and paintings to raise a fund for charity. He goes in and falls in love with a painting ... he decides to buy it, and it becomes a big part of his life. The tableau shows a boy staring straight into your soul... he's drop dead gorgeous. He lives with the feeling that he knows that person, and somehow wishes he was real! He haunts his dreams every night, and Zayn finds himself drawing the same face on his notebooks, books, sketch books... imagining his smile, his voice his laugh. The boy from the painting becomes his imaginary lover, and he can't help but think he's going crazy until one day, everything changes...

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He always picked on me, and only me. My friends didn't see my problem with him, and they clearly couldn't understand mine. Mr. fucking Styles would be the death of me. I'm re-writing this so it might be some what similar to the original! I promise this one is supposed to be better written

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