Broken Wings (Zayn Malik Fan Fiction)

Chapter 7

A groan escaped my lips as I rolled over; I stretched my limbs not wanting to get ready for the day. I heard a small chuckle and my body froze. Slowly I pried my eyes open to find Zayn staring down at me, his head resting on his hand. “Morning beautiful,” I held my bottom lip between my teeth to keep from smiling like an idiot. It took me a moment before I realized that my entire body was practically sprawled over Zayn’s. I quickly adjusted my body into a sitting position, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said looking at the floor. Zayn chuckled causing me to look up at him.

“Its fine,” Zayn said moving closer to me, his nose brushing my cheek. “You can lay on me anytime Maya,” I blushed furiously as Zayn kissed the skin under my ear slightly. Finally he stood up making his way to the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked and Zayn turned to me.

“Were going out,” Zayn stated and I didn’t object. Standing up I made my way over to my closet, sifting through things to wear. Finally settling on a band tee, and skinny jeans, my feet padding through the hall and down the steps finding Zayn sitting on the phone, his expressions angry, I stood at the bottom landing quietly observing Zayn.

Finally he hung up he stood up walking around the living room. “Zayn,” I mumbled quietly and Zayn looked over to me before raking his hands through his hair.

“I’m so sick of people thinking that I’m some, some criminal.” Zayn said his fist then hitting the wall before me causing me to jump back. I gulped staring at Zayn, I’ve never seen this side of him. Granted I hadn’t known Zayn that long, but this side was a side that was completely different. He wasn’t the same person he displayed himself before me on previous occasions, and this side scared me.

Slowly Zayn brought his hand down, vaguely becoming aware of what he had displayed before me. He turned to face me, his features melting away any signs of anger, being replaced with regret. He reached his hand out to me, and almost by instinct I flinched away from him.

“Maya,” Zayn mumbled his hand still in midair before it fell to its side. Slowly I reached for his hand, my thumb grazing over his knuckles.

“Let’s go,” I whispered looking up at Zayn. He nodded and we walked out of my house, Zayn leading me to the tube station I took a few days ago. He stood close to me, his hand brushing mine a few times as we waited for the tube to arrive. When it did Zayn guided me in sitting next to me, there weren’t many people in the tube but it felt as if Zayn felt the need to protect me from everything. Whether it was his natural posterior to protect people, or whoever was on the phone with him made him antsy, I wasn’t sure but I don’t think that questioning him on it was something that I was going to be doing.

Finally the tube stopped and Zayn stood up, taking my hand and leading me towards the exit. He led me in a direction that was in the opposite of the tattoo parlor. We walked for a few blocks, and the cold air whipping around my face made me tilt my head down. “Where are we going?” I asked my voice strained from the cold. It took a few moments but suddenly we were opening the doors to a building and walking up flights of steps.

Zayn stood in front of a door, rummaging through his pockets. “Zayn where are we?” I asked feeling a little uneasy.

“My flat,” Zayn answered finally getting his keys.