heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter twenty-five

"It's gonna take some time

but I know you're worth fighting for."

- Jason Derulo [Fight For You] 

 

Dawn broke in a juxtaposed mix of violet splendor and gray smog over Charoum, heralding the new day with inglorious gloom. After tossing and turning since about four in the morning, I finally gave up on the annoyingly elusive idea of sleep and slipped out of the bedroom, where Renee and Astral were still conked out in sleeping bags. 

Padding down the hallway, I entered the living room, giving a little start as I made out a figure already sitting on the couch.

Zayn. Of course.

I decided to pretend like nothing ever happened, like he hadn't told me he wanted to leave me alone by going away, that I hadn't been dumb enough to ask if he loved me; to just imagine all of it had been wiped clean of history.

So, I merely sat next to him on the sofa, letting our shoulders bump in what I hoped he took as a friendly gesture. "Hey. You're up early?"

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep." This was said almost accusingly, as if I was the reason he hadn't gotten any sleep. What, did I snore that loudly, that he could hear me all the way in the other room?

"You say that like it's my fault."

He worked his lip between his teeth and sighed. "Do you want breakfast?"

Eyes fastened on the awakening city we could glimpse through the living room window, I gave my head a shake. "Nah. I'm good just sitting here. It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Never thought I'd hear that word associated with Charoum, but yeah, it is," he agreed.

Without quite knowing why I did it, I allowed my head to sink onto his shoulder, leaning against him so that he was my human cushion(only a hundred times better than any pillow, honestly). Zayn tensed ever so slightly, then, in one motion, threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me a little closer. And it was nice--it made my heart nearly spontaneously combust, but it was still nice. Wouldn't trade those few minutes for the world.

Of course, then Zayn felt the need to open his big mouth and ruin it all. "Val, can we talk-"

"No we most certainly cannot."

He blinked. "But-"

"Nope. Not happening," I said stubbornly, covering his mouth with my hand and trying to avoid focusing on the warmth of his lips and the sweetness of his breath(which was quite ridiculous, considering he'd only woken up; when had he brushed his teeth?) rather futiley. "Don't talk, Zayn. You spoil everything when you do."

Actually, that was inaccurate. I was the one who needed to stop talking. I was the one dumb enough to demand to know if he loved me and make everything awkward. But whatever. It was a lot easier to clamp a palm over Zayn's mouth then it was trying to get myself to stop spewing verbal stupidity into the air.

Offhandedly, he gave me a glare and pried my fingers off his mouth. "You suck."

"Thanks ever so much," I said sweetly, batting my eyelashes at him. "You always know just what to say."

Instead of responding, he transferred his gaze back towards the window, shifting so that our foreheads bumped gently. "So," he said in a tentative tone, and for a second I was almost positive he'd do the unthinkable and ask me if I was in love with him--and I would be utterly lost for a reply to that. Thankfully, he didn't. What he did say, though, was almost as tongue-tying. "How do you feel about your mom staying with us?"