Following In Your Direction [One Direction: Zayn Malik Romance]

8. Pranks

I've managed to avoid Zayn Malik all week; well, not really avoid considering we're on the same tour bus and had one concert within that week's time, but I never held a conversation with him since the day he found out about my scars. I know he wants to get alone time with me, because every time we seem to be found alone, his determined expression slips on and he reaches for me to talk. Every single time I've shied away and found an excuse to ignore him, though.

This whole 'ignore Zayn' thing isn't really fun, either. Sadly, no matter how pathetic it is, I just want to run into his arms and let him hold me as a best friend instead of a fake boyfriend. The guys on the bus think we're in a fight - they picked up on the whole distance thing between us and think it's a normal boyfriend/girlfriend fight and only ocassionally make smart comments about it. Today, as I walked through the tourbus after my shower, though, I didn't get my usual luck. No, the boys were gone.

And I'm sure you can guess who decided to stay back.

"Rose," Zayn said, hopping up from his chair in the lounge nervously, eyes laced with concern as they flickered down to my wrists before my eyes. "Can we... talk?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I replied, "Actually, I was about to go find-"

"You've been avoiding me all week." Zayn deadpanned.

Knowing this wasn't a situation I would be so lucky as to escape, I nodded, ducking my head down sadly as I shuffled over to the couch beside him. My wary gaze landed on his nervous one, his concerned eyes searching mine for some type of emotion that was flickering. He sighed, most likely sad to have found none.

"Talk to me," Zayn pleaded, his eyes finally turning desperate. "Come on, Rose. Talk to me, please, and tell me what's going on."

I glanced down at my cross-legged stance, whispering, "It was from a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Six months."

"That still isn't that long..."

"I learned about it in school. For one of the courses we had to take, the teacher described real life problems and what to do about them. When she got onto the topic of self-harm, my heart broke." I admitted, refusing to meet his gaze as a tear slipped out of my eye, my voice shaking. "She said cutting was wrong, but when I did it, it felt right."

Zayn was quiet for a moment, respectfully waiting as I tried to gather myself before he murmured, "Why were you doing it?"

"There is no real sob story to tell, other than the fact that I didn't like my life. I thought I could take out every days anger on myself, but obviously it wasn't a good idea. Please, Zayn," I begged, meeting his gaze warily as my voice officially cracked. "Don't think differently of me."

I knew in that moment that he really cared for me.

Because in that moment, such a heart-breaking expression flashed onto his face that couldn't have been faked appeared. Zayn gathered me in his arms as I willed myself not to cry again in front of him, but my silent protests went unnoticed by my tears. Sobs escaped my throat, my chest rising and falling quickly and unevenly due to my crying. Zayn held me there tightly like he had done just last week, cooing words that seemed to soothe me into my ear.

I felt ridiculous.

I felt weak.

I felt pathetic.

I felt foolish.

But, as Zayn held me there close to him, I didn't feel unloved.

-*-*-*-*-