Icarus | Z.M.

64 | Down

Victoria Tomlinson

Neither of us had seemed to move at all during the night. I woke with my head on Zayn's bicep, his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders. He was on his side, facing me with his opposite arm draped over my waist. My hand was resting flat between his shoulder blades, feeling every subtle rise and fall of his back with each soft breath that he took.

His chin was on top of my head, I could feel the tickle of my hairs when he exhaled through his nose, the hot air hitting against my forehead.

It seemed I was awake before him, but I wasn't sure if he was just really still because I swore I could feel his thumb drawing softly back and forth on my spine where his hand had slipped beneath the material of the shirt he'd given me last night. I was doing the same, absentmindedly my fingers were drawing up and down his back and the tattoos I knew were there, from the centre of his spine to the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin and his breaths. I'd never felt so lucky in my life.

That was the only word I could think that came close to describing the feeling I had when waking up beside him. I was happy, yes. But I was lucky to have someone that cared for me so deeply, someone that did everything in their power to make sure I was safe and okay. When I thought about it too deeply, my heart felt tight and warm, it began to beat faster on my chest and had me smiling to myself in the early morning. I swore I could watch him sleep, listen to his breathing and just lay like this tangled up in his bed for the rest of my life.

My fingers tangled into the roots of his hair so that I could gently scratch my nails through the back of his hair, pulling my fingers through the soft strands before repeating that all again.

Zayn drew in a breath, his arms tightened around me with pulled me in until our bodies were flat together. His face moved from on top of my head to nuzzle into the crook of my neck where he pressed a few sleepy kisses. He stayed there and stilled, like he was about to fall right back into a deep sleep.

I kept running my fingers through his hair.

His voice was hoarse, raspy like it was every morning when he spoke, exhaling a hot breath down the side of my neck. "You're awake,"

I nodded, letting out only a sleepy hum in response. "Mhm,"

He pulled his arm from beneath my cheek and instead wrapped both of his arms around my waist tightly, locking his arms in place so that he could hold me tightly against him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Perfect." I smiled, nuzzling my face into the warm pillow where his arm had been. "I slept good."

He pulled his head from my neck so he could rest his cheek on the same pillow. His nose was less than an inch from mine. He smiled, and even in the darkness of his room I could see the glimmer in his eyes, a tired shine. "Good...me too."

With a breath, Zayn leaned in to kiss my forehead.

I smiled at the feeling, a warmth spread through me and settled somewhere deep in my chest.

After letting his lips linger on my forehead for a few moments, he loosened his hold on me and pulled back, pulling away from me. When he went to sit up, I realised that he was about to get out of bed. I didn't even care why he wanted to get out of bed yet, I wasn't ready for either of us to leave yet.

My hands were around the back of his neck within a second and I pulled him right down with such a force he nearly collapsed on top of me, not expecting me to pull him at all. His hands shot out to either side of my head so he didn't fall on me, and he let out a soft grunt mixed with a laugh. He was hovering over me, his face hung down to frame his face and he was just smiling, not doing anything to hide the amusement.