heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter twenty-eight

"How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?

But watching you stand alone,

All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow."

- Christina Perri [A Thousand Years]

Well.

Shit.

I waited patiently for the ground to open up and swallow me up, for the floorboards to cave with the popping sound of bad knees, to fall into what constituted as the center of the Earth and never be heard from again.

It didn't happen.

Maybe I hadn't really said it out loud? Yes, that was it. There was no way the universe would let me humiliate myself like that. I mean, wasn't it enough to make me a freak who belonged to three worlds and yet none at all? There was no freaking way I should have to face rejection by an angel, too. That just wasn't fair.

Except there was also no way I was imagining the incredulous wideness of Zayn's dark amber eyes; his lips parted in shock, jaw practically touching the floor. 

He cleared his throat. Three times. "Val, did you just say-"

A railing cough interrupted him. Within seconds, I was on my feet, pulling him along with him and clapping my hand over his mouth to silence him. "Mr. Sawyer," I whispered urgently, jerking my head towards the closed bedroom door.

Zayn's expression was unreadable as he struggled to get my hand away from his mouth, eyes strained with desperation.

I finally released him, but refused to give him the chance to speak. "Get Marge," I instructed, shoving him towards the staircase. As he stumbled downstairs, I threw open the door to the bedroom, rushing over to Mr. Sawyer's bedside.

Jack's father looked in even worse condition; his health seemed to have deteriorated in the short span of time we had been gone for. His milky eyes were bugging out of his head, his thin body thrashing around in the threadbare blankets. As I looked on, one of his hands found mine. I looked down at it, the back crisscrossed with prominent sickly blue veins, the fingers shriveled and crooked.

"Mr. Sawyer," I whispered in shock. "Is there anything I can do?"

He grunted, his fingers clenching around mine as another fit of painful coughs rattled his body. "You can..." He paused to catch his breath. "Make sure this doesn't happen to anyone else."

I hesitated. Did he know this entire house was full of dying angels just like him?

Somehow, judging by the sadness beneath his hazy eyes, I knew he did. "How?" I whispered.

"Kill my son," he wheezed, voice so breathy that I hardly made out the words.

Shock coursed through me in icy waves. It wasn't that I was hugely opposed to the idea of getting rid of Jack. But with his father on his deathbed, the last thing I expected to be talking about was killing his only child.

"Are- are you sure?" I whispered, staring down at him.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps thudded into the room behind me. Marge rushed past me, bending over Mr. Sawyer and pressing a cool washcloth to his forehead. She patted his arm frantically, muttering with flushed cheeks, "Stay with us, Lucas. Everything's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

I reached out to pat her shoulder hesitantly. "I think it's a little too late for that, Marge."

Zayn clenched his hands into fists and dropped his head, staring at the feet. I felt my heart ache for him. It was painful enough for me to watch angels suffer and pass away; how much harder was it for him?