paint · ziam au

xxviii

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(words: 2.472)

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Zayn shook his head vigorously, still pressing the phone against his chest as he shrugged the cold hand off of him. He refused to believe those words; the ones Dean and Liam had spoken.

Liam still loved him, he knew it. He was just being tricked and played with, they wanted him to think that he doesn't love Zayn.

"You- You told me that if I gave you what you wanted—" He hiccupped, rubbing his red nose. "You'd leave him alone." Zayn finally looked up at the man with glossy and wide hazel eyes, the pair begging him to leave him and his lover alone.

Dean mockingly cooed, bringing his finger up to his cheek to wipe away the tear that was rolling down. The young man flinched and tried to get up and run away, but one of the man's 'guards' stood at the other side of the room and gave him a threatening look that made Zayn quietly whimper and freeze still.

The man wiped the tear away, Zayn not daring to look away from the ground below him. He smirked down at the shaking boy and finally spoke.

"But I'm not hurting Liam at all." He said, crossing his arms against his chest. "The only pain he's going through is heartbreak, but I'm sure he'll get over you—" He snatched Zayn's face, tightly gripping onto his jaw and the boy whimpered when he was forced to look into his cruel grey eyes.

"Liam is like a son to me and you are far too much of a distraction." Dean smirked at the trembling boy that sat on the ground in the middle of his classy living room. "It's funny because—" He harshly squeezed his fingers, digging his fingers into his cheeks making the boy hiss and try to pull away, wrapping his hand around his wrist. "You were technically my son at one point and not once did I ever love you like I love Liam."

Zayn frowned deeply in confusion because why did Dean just refer to him as a son?

Mr. Philips caught his expression and faked surprise, along with an unneeded gasp. "Oh, I forgot.' He chuckled and shook his head, clicking his tongue. "You've lost your memory." He said as if it were the punchline to some joke.

Zayn frowned even harder, but this time out of anger as he tried to pry his fingers off of his face.

"Don't you remember, Zaynie?" He teased, finally letting go of his face and squatted down lower to his level, petting his messy black hair. "I'm your daddy!" He grinned, knowing just how to bother the young boy.

Zayn whined and slapped his hand away, narrowing his eyes at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?" The memories were hazy and he doesn't want to remember whether or not this disgusting man is his father.

The man shrugged. "Okay, more like your step-father." He corrected himself. "I technically still am your parent since—" He paused and tapped his chin in thought, as if trying to remember some important details. "Daddy Yaser is dead." He chirped, sounding way too energetic and glad for such a sad topic. "And mother Trisha is burried six feet under ground just like him."

Zayn's facial expressions drop and he felt his bottom lip wobble because he had just found out that his parents are gone in the cruelest of ways; how can he not be devastated?

"Zayn, don't cry." Dean pouted, tilting his chin up, trying to make the younger boy look into his eyes. "You've still got me." And Zayn prayed he was joking.

Zayn's sadness soon mixed in with anger, as he slapped the man's hand away. "You mean nothing to me and I'm glad I've lost my memory because I don't need to remember any horrible event that has to do with you." Zayn sneered, so close to kicking the man in between his legs and making a run for it (but if it weren't for the stupid security guards, he would've done that ages ago). "I don't know what else you want from me; I helped you break into Liam's safe and you literally stuffed me in the trunk of your car and brought me here." He gestured the living room he was in, with cream colored walls and expensive-looking furniture. "Just leave Liam out of this!" He said in between clenched teeth, feeling actual fury.