Scars (Ziam)

On Thorns and Flames

"I'm going to check on those discharge papers. I'll be right back."

He gave a pat to my shoulder before walking out of the room as well. Now it was just Zayn and I, and I found my eyes stinging with tears at the realization.

"I'm driving them all away," I choked out, and Zayn was moving by my side in an instant, taking my hand in his and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"You're not. It's a difficult spot for everyone involved, but your family is completely behind you, Liam. You would understand just how much they want to support you and help you through this if you were in that waiting room with us," He revealed. "All they were talking about was how they want to be here for you."

"Do they think it?" I asked, not able to bring myself to look him in the eyes. "Do they think I'm crazy? Like my mum?"

"No," He immediately replied. There was no room for doubt in his voice. He was so sure of everything, all the time. I wondered what that was like. "They don't because you aren't. I don't know much about your mum, but it doesn't sound like she was, either."

"She's the reason it all happened," I breathed out, feeling the memories come rushing back again. I gripped onto Zayn's hand, and he seemed to know what I needed.

He held my hand just as tight while moving his free hand to my forehead. He ran his hand through my hair and bent down, kissing my forehead. It was a warm and familiar feeling. Like being wrapped in a blanket after being stranded in the freezing cold; like being enveloped with love.

I clenched my jaw at the thought, knowing that there was no way he even had the faintest bit of attraction to me. It would still take time for me to move passed my feelings for him, but I would do so silently. As long as he stayed by my side, I could handle the added torture.

His finger ran from the spot he kissed on my forehead and traced an invisible line down to the tip of my nose before he pulled his hand away. It was like he was carving out a sculpture with his finger, handling with care yet being strong as well.

Zayn was so beautiful. I shut my eyes, trying not to be overcome with these terrifying emotions. The poem I wrote was in the back of my mind. If I were the moon and he were the ocean... I felt horrible for pulling him in with my gravitational force.

"Still think your mum would adore me?" I whispered out, shrinking away and waiting for the inevitable response. It never came.

"Liam," He said, voice stern and strong. It was such a shocking contrast to how soft he usually was around me that it made me open my eyes and look up at him. Our eyes met, and I felt pulled in by him, like he was centering all of my thoughts and emotions. It was impossible to look away, but I found that I didn't want to. "My mum will love you. My whole family will."

Again, he seemed so sure.

"Why are you my friend?" I blurted out, needing to understand. I didn't think I could, however. He was so successful and smart and special. He was lovely, and he had a charisma that just attracted people. I still didn't understand why he stuck around me. "Why are you always so nice to me? How can you stand to look at my face without being disgusted? How can you be so sure about everything all of the time? How can you-"

"It's not easy," Zayn interrupted, and the ache in my chest felt worse than any pain I've felt before. Worse than the glass cutting up my skin or the pole creating a gaping hole in my side.

I pulled my hand from Zayn's, and he seemed to realize what he said as his mouth fell open in shock.

"That's not what I meant, Liam," He amended, reaching out for my hand again, but I felt like I had just been burned. His touch was crippling.