Chapter 18

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The leaves swirled in the wind, as the weather became more riotous. Occasionally, drops of rain drizzled against the windscreen and some splattered on my forehead from the small gap in the window I left open on my side. There were a bunch of girls in the corner of a street, wearing their school uniform, and laughing at something on their phone. As we went past them, Zayn lifted a hand and covered his face.

"Ex-girlfriend?" I thought I'd make a joke to 1) make conversation and, 2) feel more comfortable. I was still feeling tensed, and I remember that I would sporadically twitch as my nerves would take over my entire body and remind me of the insecurities that I was carrying.

A rumble of laughter erupted from Zayn's throat, as he shot me a sideways glance and dazzled me with his brilliant smile.

"You're funny," he mumbled as he reached his free hand to run through his hair, before adding, "no, I just don't want to get recognised, I guess."

"It must be tough to bump into the people that made you who you are today," I knew that as soon as I said this, I was already regretting it. Another rash moment of not thinking before I speak, and another moment of humiliation as of course, it would come out as rude.

Immidiately, Zayn's features changed. He wasn't somewhat offended but rather ashamed that I had inflicted that opinion of him.

"Don't take it that way, course I appreciate what the fans do for us. I really... honest to God I do; it's just that the attention isn't exactly my thing. I-"

Now I know I should have listened, but as soon as he said that the attention wasn't exactly his thing, I felt something warm ignite inside of me and spread all across my body and then settle at the centre of my heart. I couldn't believe that despite the fortune he got from his fame, he still saw the attention as a negative effect in his life.

"But isn't fame part of the deal you signed up for when becoming a celebrity?" I interrupted, not knowing he was still trying to justify his case.

Seeing his face, the warm feeling inside me began to build. I felt empathetic and almost sorry that he was feeling like that; because even though my level of insecutiy wasn't anyway near to his, I still understood him. I, too, hated the attention; throwing up because of it, was already evidence enough of how much it affected me.

"I never thought it'd get to this level of intensity; there's people already saying that it'll get worse. Honestly, I don't know how I would handle it..." His face took a shade of panic as he stared blankly ahead. I was quite glad we had stopped at traffic lights, as he wasn't exactly focusing. Then suddenly, and out of the blue, he turned to me and said, "You want me to say hello to those girls?" But before I could even reply he added, "I'm gonna turn back,"

"Zayn-"

"No, no. It was bad of me, I know..." He began to mumble as he reached a hand over and placed it behind my seat as he looked backwards.

I felt terrible, I began to tell him that he didn't have to, I understood him, but he wouldn't have it.

"I'm not a bad guy, I swear." The tone in his voice got higher as he emphasised the last word, and his Yorkshire accent was thick as it rolled out of his tongue.

"I didn't say you were," I muttered at him, but he wasn't looking at me as he made the U-Turn. I saw the way his cheekbones tensed as he clenched his teeth, and from what I gathered -he was blinking away tears.

I didn't know what to do. I just had never dealt with such behaviour before. It was quite ironic really, because I remembered that perhaps this was how Zayn felt when he saw me cry outside the bowling alley. It was such a delicate moment, that I knew he didn't want me to see. But I appreciated it nonetheless, as he was letting me in to this private world of his, where problems and insecurities did exisit and that just because he was famous, didn't mean that these complications didn't stop from surfacing.

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