Stormy »zjm«

Chapter Fourteen

Zayn made me eat something this Saturday morning. He had his ways.

We didn't talk about our kiss. He barely talked at all. Stress was written all over his face and it upset me. This basically ruined everything. I wonder why I didn't just leave because clearly he needs some time alone right now.

So after I ate my pancake and slowly swallowed the last sweet bite I grabbed my jacket off the coach where Zayn dropped it earlier and on which he was sitting at the moment.

"I, uhm... I left you a few pancakes. Maybe you should get some breakfast, too. I- I'll be leaving now", I stuttered forcing myself to look at him.

All of a sudden his eyes met mine as if he was snapping out of some sort of trance.

"Why haven't you eaten them all? I made them just for you, I'm not the biggest fan of pancakes to be honest, just uhm-"

"Zayn, really, I can't eat anymore. I'm full. Thank you, thought", I cut him off before my making my way to the door. "I-I'm leaving now, yeah? Bye", I more or less whispered the last part as I clicked the door handle downwards.

"Wait!", Zayn yelled and ran over to me engulfing me in a hug.

"It was very nice seeing you, I'm... I'm sorry. I'll call you, yeah? Please be fair to yourself, Rain, I worry about you"

"Don't worry about me, really, look. I'm alive, I'm okay, healthy, everything's okay. No need to worry", I told him, slightly pointing to myself to demonstrate my statement.

All healthy, all fine.

A sad smile formed on his lips.

"Bye, Rain. I'm sorry again", he said as he squeezed my hand slightly and then let me walk out the door.

I wish I knew what exactly he was sorry for. Setting up hopes or being confusing? Or even both?

The small part inside of me wishing he'd call after me yelling 'Don't leave, Rain!' and then hold me back at kiss me until no one of us could breath anymore and so long until his oh so familiar posh perfume would rub off on me and his thick accent telling me how beautiful he thinks I am slowly vanished with every step I took further away from his dark, comfortable little house.

  ---

Sunday, five pm and Zayn hasn't called me. He didn't even text me. I think never in my eighteen years of living I  anticipated something as much as I did right now.

"Rain? Come down, dinner's ready!", mum called from downstairs causing me to sigh quietly and leaving my phone to stand up and making my way down for some food I wouldn't even be eating.

The only question he left me with was why he did, what he did, when he didn't actually mean it. Because it hurt to know that it meant basically nothing to him when I knew and couldn't fool myself that it meant so much to me.

"Hey dear, you must be hungry, you haven't eaten anything today. Are you sick?", she asked full of concern.

"No mum, I'm fine I promise just not hungry. What did you cook?", I asked, trying to at least show her I appreciated her work.

"I made some lasagna. You used to love it as a child", she responded with a smile that didn't quite catch her eyes. As if she was nostalgic.

If she would've told me she made lasagna a few years ago I would've made jumps in the air out of joy but now all I thought about was all the cheese and oil and calories.

Ignoring all my doubts I ate two pieces in such a velocity, even Cel noticed.

I shouldn't have eaten at all.