Scars (Ziam)

Shared Arts

Another day, another update for the 12 Days of Updates! Day 5 goes to Scars!

So... new cover. What do you guys think? I'm not really sure how I feel about it yet lol

Anyways, Enjoy!

Chapter 19:

Soft vocals rang out from the radio of Zayn's car as he drove us down the street, getting closer and closer to his art warehouse. I still felt a little guilty at the fact that Zayn missed his big art display day to hand out with me instead, but Zayn didn't seem to be affected by it. He just didn't care, and I didn't know if it was simply because he had another coming up eventually or if he really wanted to spend time with me instead.

I shifted in my seat a bit, finally feeling a bit nervous about what I was going to do. The weight of my writing journal in my bag felt heavier than ever. It was like I had three school textbooks in there instead of a small leather-bound journal.

I knew which poem I wanted to read aloud to Zayn, but I was still a little worried that he wouldn't think it was good enough or that it was any good at all. My writing wasn't a skill that I went to school for to hone, not like Zayn's painting. It was rough and raw, a talent that was untrained. Maybe I was making a mistake.

"I painted something new that I want to show you," Zayn spoke up in a pleasant tone. He sounded so relaxed in my company. He was a warming presence; an invitation. "I think you're going to like it."

"I'm sure I will," I confirmed in a near whisper. Zayn's paintings never disappointed. Each one seemed to hold a message or held some meaning behind them. They were stories told in the form of brush strokes.

"Did you want to grab food first?" Zayn asked as he turned onto another road, and I shook my head.

"I'm saving money. I have to help my dad-" I began, but Zayn cut me off.

"I would pay, Liam. It's not a big deal."

Again, he gave an easy smile, but I hated having Zayn pay for me all of the time. It felt like I was using him for his money or his generosity, but I wasn't. I felt bad about it, and I wanted to find a way to pay him back, but I didn't make enough to do that.

"It's okay," I reassured, and Zayn shook his head.

"I'm starving, so we're getting something."

"But I can't-" I tried again, and Zayn slowed the car down at a stop light before laying his hand on top of mine and looking at me with caring eyes.

"Hey, a pizza isn't that expensive, Liam. I'll grab one for the both of us to share. That's not so bad, yeah?" He asked, but my hands were focused on where his hand laid on my own, his tan skin contrasting slightly against my skin that was a shade lighter. His hand was warm, soft, careful. It was kind.

"O-okay," I confirmed, and he smiled before the light changed color, and we were moving again. He continued to drive, but he didn't pull his hand off of my own, only using one hand on the steering wheel.

Normally, it would make me panic to have someone drive so casually and not do their best to pay attention to everything going on around them, but I couldn't bring myself to care when Zayn's thumb was rubbing on the back of my hand, so gentle and light. It was similar to the way my mum used to calm me down my rubbing small circles against my back whenever I had nightmares so many years ago. He was a calming presence to me, my first one in years.

I felt my fingers twitch underneath his touch, and he surprised my when he turned my hand over and intertwined out fingers, giving my hand a small squeeze. I felt my cheeks grow hot at the action, but there wasn't any sort of underlying message to the action. It was full of support and provided stability. We were friends, and I was more than okay with that. It was what I needed right now.