Zayn stared at the wall he had just finished painting. It looked a bit of a mess but overall, it was plenty neat. He had made sure to keep the blue brighter and joyful, like how Niall was when he had first met him- a bit shy but not all lost. Then at a part, the blue was toned down a little and mixed with an angry shade of red, that, to Zayn, described the small changes that started happening and they weren't all Niall's fault but mostly of the other people. The last part had the blue and red completely mixed with spots of dark black circling around it, and that was the part that Zayn found hard to predict. He didn't know what to make of it, really.
The Pakistani slid down on the floor, running a painted hand through his hair and let out a groan. He didn't understand where all the frustration was coming from but it was there, and it was eating him alive.
"I need a goddamn smoke." Zayn whispered to himself, searching for the packet of Marlboro cigarettes that were half empty in his pocket. He brought one to his lips, wiping the dirty hands on the bed sheet before flickering the lighter on. There were countless thoughts in his mind but the most evident of them all was that angel of his with his pretty blue eyes. It was funny how Zayn had played with hearts, not intentionally but it had just happened, and now, his own heart was being hurt. Again and again.
The tanned man shrugged on his brown jacket before sliding sunglasses over his eyes to prevent any single soul from seeing the slight redness in them. He wasn't particularly a big fan of tears but damn, could one high school kid toy with his emotions like this!
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Grabbing his keys from the counter, the Muslim opened the door, successfully bolting it shut behind him and driving up to his Audi R8 and over to the place he knew so well.
...
Zayn was high, higher than a fucking kite in the sky and he was enjoying every passing second of it. With every minute, he felt more and more alive and the smoke in the room was just doing such good things for him, it was making his eyes a bit redder than what they were before, and the faces of his friends blissed-out on jacking up heroin in their veins. Zayn avoided that, finding pleasure in the weed and the small whiff of cocaine he had snorted.
He could feel Niall leaving his thoughts with every second the occupants of the bright room moved their hips to the music and soon, Zayn had consumed at least four cigarettes, his hands on the hips of a rather tall yet curvy boy. The Pakistani didn't recognize him until the younger lad turned around, a wide smirk plastered on his face.
"And we meet again." The Australian accent in the voice made Zayn frown his eyebrows together, trying to point out through the haze of emotions as to where he had heard that voice before. It was familiar yet different, a bit more hoarse and masculine now than what he had heard before. Certainly.
"Ashy? When did you come back?" The raven haired man grinned, bringing the boy closer to himself by the waist and even though, Zayn was a slight bit shorter than the other lad, he was still the dominant one in the room. Anybody could see it and apparently, the boy wrapped in his arms so snugly had already witnessed it.
