He pulled at his tailored pant leg- Zayn did; how did you come to know such wealth? Who has stolen your novice soul?
He pulls at his pant leg for money, a wealth he's been given; the man with the million dollar pockets has given him the wealth.
He runs a finger down the side of his stubble covered face; there's brass there; gold there- his hands covered in the richness that he can still not afford; knuckle rings.
"Tea Mr. Malik?"
Zayn blows cigarette smoke past his chapped lips- throat yearning for a morning brew; eyes watering with haze.
"Please, Gigi," he replies lazily, accent thick and obnoxious,"thanks love," he says, shooing her away with his feet at Liam's desk.
Power- Zayn; he's I'll with it- teeth whitened by important people; bum kissed by the small ones.
And what has he gained? The small boy who knew nothing outside of rattle-less pockets and powdered lemonade junkie; he's not yet sure.
Possibly- he'll find out.
---
Ok! Zayn is starting to change...
