dehydrated

freshly polished

A spring in my step appears in my body as I make my way down the avenue to Zayns house. Conisdering todays been one of the worst, it was a really nice gesture for Zayn to invite me over.

Yesterday wasn't really as good as I would have liked it too be for my social status but, tonight will. I'm counting on it.

I can finally befriend some more people in Zayns friendgroup, and have fun while doing it.

The cracks in the pavements feel uneven as I walk along them. Every house in the neighbour hood is a different shape or size but they all have one thing in common, bloody massive.

Some houses, elegant and polished where others grand and old-fashioned. Each unique and beautiful.

Zayns neighbourhood is a lot friendlier than mine... too say the least.

Your car won't get stolen every night but.. You would probably get knocked out if you ask for a cup of sugar.

The road seems never ending, twist and turns every second. Each house seemingly getting bigger.

I am lucky in the memory department, due to me not having my phone I can't check what the house number is. So i have to remember it purely based off memory.

There it is.

number 132

The grass infront of the house is freshly trimmed and pristine, not even a single one out of place. These a path splitting the front yard into two, its twirly and long, it's made out of different sized stones, all the same colour. Something that you wouldn't notice in the evening (what I didn't notice at all last time). It leads you up to that stairs that take you to the front door, you know he's rich by the deck alone. Who has a fucking canopy?

The stones crunch as I walk along them to the pale blue front door, mines a lovely oak wood, it was the cheapest at Ikea.

The doorbell looks polished, it feels illegal to touch with my bare fingers. Pulling my sleeve over my pointer finger to ring it seems like the best thing to do.

Within a few seconds of ringing said bell, the door bursts open.

"Lou mate, you're 'ere!" 

Zayn smiles shines brighter than the sun too see more, i can't help but smirk back.

He wraps his muscular arm around my neck and pulls me into his house. Its fucking massive.

The staircase swirls up to the top floor, silence fills the house. The only thing in my earshot is Zayns squeaky trainers.

He smells of expensive cologne and cigarrettes. The smell is oddly comforting.

Unlike the house Zayn's clothes are dirty. His graphic-t seems like it's been worn for days without being washed. His shorts are a dark blue covered in a white powder.

"Loueh?" He asks, he's obviously confused.

"Hey Zayn," Peering around the room I notice that no-ones around, "Where is everyone?"

Last time I was here he quickly ushered me and Styles downstairs due to his mother being home. Today, she's no where to be seen.

"Well, in regards to my parents, they are out. and in regards to the guys,"he smirks, clearly excited about the information he's about to spread, "They're upstairs." 

He pulls me towards the staircase. The banister painted a rich gold colour, ever so perefctly. No cracks, everything in line. It's cold to the touch but I feel as if I let go- I may fall down the harrowing steps. To what seems like hell. 

Eventually though, we reach the top.

The upstairs is just as flashy and gorgeous as the first floor.

The floor is light wood and cold, each door leading across the hallway is the same. The design definitely isn't homey and warm. But it's not cold and dark at all, it's more aesthetically pleasing and pretty.

Plants hang from shelves that hang from white painted walls. The feeling hits me that Zayn wouldn't decorate the house like this if it was his.

"This one here." Zayn smiles before leading me to one of the doors in the hallway. 

Zayn somewhat kicks the door open to reveal his mess of a room. Jesus Christ.

The walls are plastered with posters reading Nirvana and Mother Mother and other numerous bands. The posters take up that much room theres no actually wall left- which are painted black.

His bed is a double and is unmade- theres no bed sheet, just mattress. His bedsheets are black with no design. It makes sense that his room looks like this.

It's dark, the curtains covering the windows not being able to tell what outside actually looks like. A fan in the corner causes there to be a slight breeze and no silence.

It's not even summer- why in the world does he have a fan?

A record player sits quietly atop of a group of shelves covered with record of different shapes and sizes. A few stand out like The Neighbourhood, The killers and others. This boy is really perfect, what great music taste. 

Sitting at his desk is Niall and Styles. Styles.

Niall sits on the spinny chair, its black and looks expensive, the legs are silver and newly polished, everything in this house looks newley polished, even the cieling. Whereas Styles sits on the desktop, how could that be comfortable.

A small brunette girl sits on his bed next to a lieing down blonde boy. Their outfits match. She wears orange flairs and a purple crop top, complementing her tits perfectly. And he wears a purple pair of what seems like jeans and an oversized orange tee. Their outfits topped of with green air forces.

 I wouldn't personally wear but it does complement them.

More people are sprinkled throughout the room- it seems like it can fit fifty odd. 

Dirty laundry on the floor, barely able to see the actually ground.  Zayn doesnt seem embarrassed about it, he must feel comfortable around me.

He lets go of my shoulder and walks over to the record player, he turns around and smirks.

"What do you wanna listen too?" He doesnt speak to one person, but more all of us as a whole. There's like 10 people in the room.

Styles looks up from Niall and makes eye contact with Zayn.

"Some Nirvana would be nice..?" He smiles then looks back at Niall, continuing there conversation.

Wow he's so different, he's so fucking built different.

Zayn wips out an album before sticking it atop of the player, the name of the album it is- I'm not too sure but the sweet sounds of Kurt Cobain quickly fill my ears.

~~

"Zaynie-poo.." One of the girls pipe up after listening to music for about half an hour.

Her voice is high and annoying, she wears blue skinny jeans and a pink vest-crop top. It hugs her tits tightly. Her hair is an auburn brown with a long fringe running infront of her green eyes.

"Yes Rosie," He smirks happily, you can tell they fuck all the time by how they speak to each other.

I sit on a chair from the kitchen next to Niall, Styles still sits on the desk, his presence annoys me.

"Have you got any-" She signs sniffing from her hand "...Blow?"

She smirks flirtingly at Zayn. 

He grins at her before leaving the room. Oh shit.