✯ Zianourry ⏯ OneShots ✯

No... I'm not okay. ⏯ Z.M. Ziam

The evening sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink as Zayn made his way home, his steps slow and heavy. He had left the studio late, the strains of the day weighing on his shoulders. The streets were quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of his mind.

As he turned the corner onto his street, he noticed a group of shadowy figures lurking in the alley. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine, Zayn quickened his pace, eager to reach the safety of his apartment.

But before he could make it to his building, the figures emerged from the darkness, their intentions clear. Zayn barely had time to react before fists rained down on him, the blows landing with brutal force. He tried to fight back, but the attackers were relentless, their anger palpable in each strike.

The world spun around him as pain exploded in every inch of his body. He tasted blood, felt the sting of cuts and bruises blossoming across his skin. Desperation clawed at him as he struggled to fend off his assailants, but they were too many, too strong.

Finally, mercifully, the assault ceased, leaving Zayn crumpled on the pavement, broken and battered. Tears pricked at his eyes as he struggled to draw breath, his body trembling with shock and pain.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, Zayn pushed himself upright, his vision swimming as he stumbled towards his apartment. Each step was agony, but he refused to give up, refused to let his attackers win.

Finally reaching his door, Zayn fumbled for his keys, fingers trembling as he struggled to unlock the entrance. The world blurred around him, his senses dulled by pain and exhaustion.

But then, finally, he was inside, the safety of his home wrapping around him like a protective shield. Collapsing onto the floor, Zayn let out a ragged sob, his body shaking with the release of pent-up emotion.

Minutes, hours, he couldn't tell how much time passed as he lay there, lost in a haze of pain and despair. But gradually, slowly, he began to regain control, his breathing evening out as he forced himself to focus.

With trembling hands, Zayn reached for his phone, fingers faltering as he dialed the familiar number. It rang once, twice, before a sleepy voice answered on the other end.

"Liam," Zayn choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need help."

There was a moment of silence, then a rush of movement as Liam sprang into action. "Zayn? What happened? Are you okay?"

Closing his eyes against the pain, Zayn swallowed hard, the weight of his injuries pressing down on him like a leaden weight. "No," he whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "No, Liam. I'm not okay."

And as darkness closed in around him, Zayn clung to the sound of Liam's voice, the promise of salvation in the midst of his darkest hour.

Zayn awoke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains, his body still aching with the aftermath of the previous night's assault. Every movement sent spikes of pain shooting through him, a harsh reminder of the violence he had endured.

But as he lay there, his mind foggy with exhaustion, Zayn found solace in the warmth of his bed, in the knowledge that he was no longer alone. Liam had arrived sometime during the night, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of Zayn's turmoil.

With great effort, Zayn pushed himself upright, his muscles protesting with every motion. Liam stirred beside him, his gaze heavy with concern as he took in Zayn's battered form.

"Hey," Liam murmured, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from Zayn's face. "How are you feeling?"

Zayn managed a weak smile, his throat tight with emotion. "Better," he replied, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. "Thanks for being here."

Liam's expression softened, his hand coming to rest on Zayn's shoulder in a gesture of silent support. "Always," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm against the ache of Zayn's wounds.

Together, they sat in silence, the weight of the moment stretching between them like a fragile thread. But despite the heaviness of the air, there was also a sense of peace, of solidarity forged in the crucible of shared pain.

Eventually, Liam rose from the bed, his movements careful and deliberate. "I'll make us some tea," he said, his voice gentle as he offered Zayn a reassuring smile. "And then we can figure out what to do next."

Zayn nodded, grateful for Liam's steadfast presence. With each passing moment, the darkness receded, replaced by the glimmer of hope shining bright in the depths of his soul.

As Liam disappeared into the kitchen, Zayn let out a shaky breath, his heart heavy with gratitude. Despite the trials he had faced, despite the bruises marring his skin, he knew that he was not alone.

Together, they would weather the storm, their bond unbreakable in the face of adversity. And as the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, Zayn felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, illuminating the path to healing and redemption.