Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Two

Zayn Malik felt like he was walking on air as he walked home from school that day. The sun was out in the sky, showing off early signs on the upcoming spring. The sun always cheered everything up in Zayn’s eyes. His earphones were playing loudly in his ears as he walked along the quiet road towards his Nanna’s house. He bopped his head along gently to the sound of the music while his brown eyes scanned his surroundings. They picked up on everything.

A dark red Ford drove past him, and his chocolate coloured eyes quickly looked over the man driving in it. He had looked middle aged, his tie had once looked smart around his neck, but was now loosened, as had the first few buttons on his shirt been. Obviously an office worker, returning home. Zayn wrinkled his nose at the thought of being cooped up in an office. He looked up at the sky, his eyes instantly attracted to a couple of black birds that flew above him, twittering away to each other before diving behind a couple of houses. He wanted to be free, just like the birds. 

His hands were holding onto his drawing book, just like they always were. He was frequently drawing all types of birds into his book, small ones, little cartoon ones, or sometimes he would sit and try to draw a detailed one from memory, although since he could never get very close to them, they were made from his own memory rather than an accurate still life sketch. He could loose his backpack and schoolwork, but it would never mean as much as his drawing book. His drawing book was the only thing that meant so much to him; he never wanted to loose the only thing that understood him.

He continued his walk, adjusting his glasses a little as he put one foot in front of the other. A young Mother went past him pushing a buggy, a cigarette in her mouth, smoking away. Zayn scrunched up in nose and coughed a little, picking up his walking pace; completely aware of the glare the young woman had given to him. He didn’t like smoking, he didn’t understand why people wanted to put so much smoke into their bodies, surely it must hurt, with so much smoke swirling around their lungs? The smell of the smoke was gone now, and so he smiled a little once again, pushing it to the back of his mind. No need to worry about nothing, he told himself, before he saw that he was coming up to the familiar driveway of his Nanna’s house.  

His pace quickened out of pure happiness. He hadn’t seen her since Friday, and he always missed her over the weekends. He walked up her driveway, his brown eyes looking at all of the small pink and purple flowers that were in the small front garden of the bungalow. His Nanna lived in the suburbs of Bradford, in the quieter areas. Zayn would always catch a bus half way there, and catch the bus half way back when he went back to his own home. He walked over to the front door and rang the doorbell twice, before he waited patiently for her to appear. Soon enough, his lovely Grandmother opened the front door with a proud smile and pulled her grandson into her arms. 

“You’re here early, Zaynie. It normally takes you another ten minutes or so, you haven’t been skipping class have you, son?” She spoke with a smile, ushering him in before closing the door behind him. Zayn chuckled and looked at the old woman with a ‘what are you like?’ look, a firm smile on his face. She simply chuckled as he kicked off his school shoes and made his way towards the sound of the kettle boiling.

Zayn always liked his Nanna’s house. The last time it had been decorated or furnished was in the 1980s at least. Everything was old, and retro, Zayn loved it. His Grandmother was a very clean woman, the small bungalows rooms were always well looked after, the little ornaments that Zayn could sit and stare at for hours were always dust-free and shining. He loved his Nanna’s trinkets to bits. He also loved the sound of his Nanna’s house. If the kettle wasn’t boiling, then the sounds of the two small budgies in the living room would be lighting up the room, and if they were quiet, the small bell on his Grandmother’s old grey tabby cat’s collar would be twinkling away. The smell of cooking and warmth also enlightened Zayn’s day.