in the hills • zayn malik

eighteen- home

eighteen- home

song for this chapter: “the fear” by Ben Howard

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“Zayn Malik, don’t you ever do anything like that again, or so help me I will actually kill you.”

“I won’t mum, I promise-”

Zayn was cut off as his mother enveloped him in a tight hug. He smelt her pineapple shampoo, and he buried his face into her hair, realising how much he had missed her.

“I was so worried.” She whispered, her voice thick.

Zayn didn’t say anything, instead just letting her hold him. He nearly sighed, but then thought about what she would have gone through with him being ‘missing’ and held it in.

“Your sisters will be here tomorrow.” Patricia said, pulling back from the hug, tears glistening in her eyes. “I’ll call them and let them know that you’re ok.”

He nodded in response, guilt gnawing at him as he thought of his sisters. Sure, he didn’t see them as often as he would like, but he still loved them dearly.

“Who told you that I...” Zayn drifted off, suddenly feeling awkward.

“Liam, of course.” Patricia sighed. “He sounded so bad, Zayn. I know that you’d told me before, but...” She shivered and hugged Zayn again. “Just please, don’t scare us like that again.”

“I won’t, ma.” Zayn murmured, letting her hug him to her heart’s content.

Patricia smiled up at him, the unshed tears still glistening in her eyes. “You hungry?”

Zayn nodded, and she went over to the fridge, frowning as she beheld the food in there. An awful smell was wafting slowly to where Zayn was, and he gagged slightly.

“Well I suppose not using this food for fifty days was going to result in it going off.” Patricia said, sighing. Zayn watched as she started clearing it out, and shook his head, smiling slightly. His mother found a strange solace in cleaning, so he let her clean.

“When are the boys coming?” She asked, looking over her shoulder as she dumped a bowl of leftover pasta into the bin.

Zayn looked at his phone, seeing the time as two in the afternoon. “I think in half an hour.” He said. “But they were in a meeting, and Liam said they tried getting out but management was being a complete pain in the ass.”

Zayn remembered how Liam was fuming, but the evident relief in Liam’s voice had calmed Zayn more than anything else could at that moment. Liam hadn’t asked much, only saying in a quiet voice that they would be at his apartment as soon as possible.

He collapsed onto the couch, looking around his apartment with surprisingly little nostalgia. Everything was the same, but also seemed so different at the same time. That feeling of home just didn’t seem to be there anymore.

The broken shards of glass had been cleaned up by his mother, who had looked sadly at the picture-perfect photo before tucking it away into Zayn’s drawer, like he would he look at it one day.

Zayn extremely doubted that he would. When he was on tour, the only thing that he would keep close to him was his heart, so that he wouldn’t lose it again. How foolish he had been to just give it away, yet again!

“Zayn, you have nothing edible in your fridge.” His mother said, making him jump slightly. He turned around to look at her, seeing her standing there, looking around the apartment’s small kitchen. “You know what, I’ll pop down to the shops and get you some food. Sound good?”