early in the morning • zayn malik

→ chill of warm fingertips ←

→ chill of warm fingertips ←

The blankets of his bed lay in a jumbled heap on the floor, maybe from when Zayn woke up in the middle of the night and ran to the bathroom, vomiting from the horrible nightmare that he had had. Thinking of it now caused bile to start to rise, and he swallowed, hard.

He grabbed the mislaid blankets and put them back on the bed, smoothing out the creases. His tanned hands were shaking slightly, and he forced them to stop. He sighed and walked out of his room, heading straight for the kettle.

Looking out the window as he filled the kettle, he hoped to see a bright flash of colour, meaning that Bryony would be back, a grateful distraction from his nightmares, from Perrie. It had been a week since his visit, but he could barely get the images out of his head, of her smiling like that.

But Bryony wasn’t there. The sun had not yet risen, meaning that Zayn would still continue to think of Perrie until the first rays of light hit his eyes, and then maybe he could forget for a little while. He would probably think of Bryony for the rest of the day.

Hopefully not think of Bryony for the rest of the day, day, day.

Zayn leant against the counter, waiting for the kettle to start whistling. But after only a minute of waiting for the kettle to boil, his phone started to ring, making him jump in surprise. He stared at it incredulously, wondering who would be calling him.

Maybe it was Liam, or Niall, or even Louis, though he highly doubted that the latter would call him. Louis hadn’t talked to him since his wedding day, and though it killed Zayn every day, he didn’t have the guts to make the call. He knew Louis wouldn’t answer anyway.

In three long strides he was at the phone, and in the moment that he pressed it to his ear he was painfully reminded of Perrie sitting there, her hand pressed against the plastic, her beautiful face smiling.

“Hello?” Zayn said, his voice a little groggy from lack of use and sleep.

“Is this Zayn?” A strangely familiar voice said, sounding too happy for someone awake at five in the morning.

“Yes, it is.” Zayn replied slowly. “I’m sorry, but who is this?”

There was a laugh on the other end of the line. “Oh, sorry Zayn, it’s Bryony. I’m such an idiot.”

“How did you even get my number?” Zayn asked, shocked and a little content that she called.

“I looked you up in the phone book.” Bryony said simply, and he could imagine her smiling.

“Oh.”

Bryony laughed again. “You aren’t sounding too well this morning. You alright?”

Zayn ran a hand over his face, sighing. “As good as I can be.”

“Well, why don’t you meet me for coffee?” Bryony asked.

“Uh,” Zayn stuttered. “Like, now?”

“Yeah!” Bryony said cheerily. “Perfect time for a coffee.”

Zayn looked around his house, and decided that why not. He wasn’t going to be doing anything interesting that day, and Harry wasn’t coming until tomorrow. He started to smile, turning the gas off, making the kettle slowly stop whistling.

“I’ll meet you in five minutes, then.” Zayn said.

“Meet me at Impressionists. See you soon!” Bryony said, before hanging up with a beep.

Zayn grabbed his keys and a jacket, and headed out of the house, feeling a sense of relief at leaving the place which seemed to hold thoughts of Perrie, dreams of Perrie. He slid into his car, and in five minutes was parked outside Impressionists, a little cafe/bookstore.

Bryony was standing outside, today wearing a cream sundress, her long black hair flowing smoothly down her shoulders. She started to smile even wider when she saw Zayn, and gave him a little wave. He waved back, and got out of the car, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Tea-drinking-Zayn, long time no see.” She said, surprising him by wrapping her arms around him in a brief hug.

“Yeah, I haven’t been too well.” Zayn said, and Bryony looked at him, frowning, and he knew that she could see right through his lie.

“Well, let’s go in, they always open at five in the morning.” Bryony said, flashing him a brilliant smile before pushing the door of the cafe open.

She chose the table closest to the window, and she watched him intently as he sat down, pulling off his jacket. A tired looking waiter came over, paper and pen in hand. He looked at the pair oddly, barely suppressing a yawn.

“What would you two like today?” He drawled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“One cappuccino, thanks.” Bryony said, giving him another one of her lovely smiles.

“I’ll have one too.” Zayn said softly, and the waiter nodded, slowly making his way back to the coffee machine.

Bryony turned back to Zayn, her green-blue eyes seemingly looking deep into his soul. He didn’t find it uncomfortable, exactly, but it seemed a little foreign, having Bryony looking at him so closely, when most people had avoided his gaze.

“Your lupins are wilting.” Bryony said, and for a moment she looked rather sad, which frightened Zayn slightly.

“I haven’t noticed, to be honest.” Zayn replied, feeling guilty at not taking better care of the flowers.

Bryony gave him a small smile, one that held so much understanding that he suddenly felt at ease, and the thoughts of Perrie were slowly slipping away, leaving him with the pretty girl sitting across from him.

“I might have to come over to take care of them.” She said, pushing her long black hair behind her shoulders, green-blue eyes sparkling.

Zayn smiled down at the table before looking at her through his dark eyelashes. “Yeah, you might just have to.”

Might have to, to, to?

The waiter came back, and despite his apparent sleepiness, carried the cups of coffee with poise. He placed them down in front of the pair, and Zayn immediately grabbed the cup, loving the warmth against his skin.

“Bryony, why do you always wear summer dresses?” Zayn asked, carefully taking a sip of the bitter coffee before placing the cup back down in the saucer.

Bryony laughed, and something stirred in Zayn. “Hold out your hands.”

Zayn did so, looking like a man about to get arrested. Bryony looked deep into his brown eyes, and he could see her moving her fingers towards his outstretched hands, and she gently placed them on the palm of his hand, resting them there.

“I’m always warm.” Bryony whispered, almost endearingly. “Some genetic fault.”

A chill ran through him, but it wasn’t the chill of the cold outside, or even the chill of the thoughts of Perrie that had been lingering in his head for the past couple of days.

No, it was the chill of warm fingertips that ran up and down his spine, making a blush rise to his cheeks and a (though he didn’t know it) beautiful smile to light his face, a smile that was rarely seen.

“Maybe it’s something good.” Zayn whispered back, and he knew she was such a good thing.

She knew she was such a bad thing, thing, thing.

.......................................................................................

this story is so great to write, can't tell you guys how much I love it.

dedication goes to the lovely @wonderrland because she is fabulous and her comments and support just making me wanna do a jig or something idk. ignore my rambling, but go check out her stories as well *wink wink*

Sara xx