Losing Liam. - [A Ziam/Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Ten

“It won’t happen. It just won’t, I’m too exhausted so it won’t come tonight.” Zayn Malik mumbled to himself, as the hot water from his shower washed over his toned body, the hot droplets slowly making their way down his abs as if it was their mission to do so. The steam from the shower fogged the glass panels of the shower, and in doing so it helped to cleanse his mind. It also made him tired, which was what he needed. He needed to be tired, he needed to be so tired that he would have to sleep tonight. He couldn’t have another restless night, it would truly drive him insane.

When all of the body gels and shampoos had washed themselves away from Zayn’s tanned skin, and when he was content enough that his eyelids couldn’t feel any heavier, he lazily shut off the shower and stumbled from it, closing the door after him. A chill quickly embraced him for a moment, until he had reached for his towel and wrapped it around his waist. He dried himself off, the amount of fatigue brewed in his body had made him too lazy, and so he simply slipped on a pair of clean boxers, or what he hoped were clean boxers, before he towel dried his hair, before he wandered to his bedroom, too tired to wash his face or brush his teeth. The fact was, he would most probably be up in a few hours anyway, and would do it then.

His feet made their way towards his bedroom, as he quietly chanted his small ritual over and over again. He opened his window a little to let some air in, like he always did in these humid nights, before he went over to his bed. His knees seemed to give in from how tired he was, but he had to do one last thing before he slept. His bedside light was switched on, and he used that to open his bedside drawer. He yawned and his eyes squeezed together as his hand fumbled inside of drawer, when they found a small box. He pulled it out and looked over it tiredly, before realising it was a half empty box of condoms.

“Oh…” He spoke, feeling somewhat awkward for some reason, before he quickly dropped them back inside and grabbed the small, white paper bag that he had intended to find, and brought it out before shutting his drawer. He let out a little sigh before he brought the desired object from the bag.

“It won’t happen tonight…it just, it won’t. It’s my dream, I’ll decide when I dream it…it won’t happen again.” Zayn spoke to himself, as he tied the small dream catcher to the head of his bed. Night after night, Zayn had been plagued with the same dream, over and over. It was the frightening dream about him and Harry in the car on the way to the concert. Each night, Zayn would settle into his bed and talk himself into not having the dream, but end up having the dream, and the dream would be ten times worse. They were ten times worse, because everytime he woke up he felt more suffocated by Harry’s feelings, but by his own as well. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with him lately, but he kept thinking about Harry, and about the dream.

Tomorrow night was the actual gig, and Zayn was dreading it. Normally he’d be excited to hang out with his best friend, have a drink or two and listen to some good upcoming band in the city, but he felt absolutely awful. He’d been trying to stop making up excuses to get out of it all day. To stop this, Zayn had gone out to Camden Market and hunted for a dream catcher. He wasn’t normally into all of this supernatural stuff, but ever since Liam’s passing, he was now open to anything.

Zayn’s brown eyes looked over the dream catcher for a moment, before he sighed and nestled himself down into his duvet covers. He laid out on his back and shut out his bedside lamp, his brown eyes looking at the photo of him and Li one more time before he looked up at the dream catcher. He felt his eyelids grow heavier, due to the fact he had had another busy day at work today, and soon enough they were closing, as he got more comfy underneath the warm duvet.

As he fell asleep, Zayn tried to think of everything possible that wasn’t Harry. He’d been watching one of his favourite movies before bed, so he tried to think about that. His creative brain working overtime on what sequel he could write to it, not like he ever would. He thought about other things he could write about, including what he could improve on with the parts of writing he already had written. He hadn’t thought much of them, but then suddenly the other night he realised that he’d done a fairly good job on them. Zayn had always been modest, but he could recognise the difference between his work being good or bad. Zayn finally fell asleep when his mind trailed to old memories of Liam, but one in particular.