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Zayn Malik walked near his desk, confused on why there was a big box on it. He knew Mr. Styles was connected to this somehow, the way he was looking at him with a uncomfortable look, tapping his fingers on his desk.

Zayn looked around he box, huffing. What could it be? He tried moving it, gosh it was light, though it still weighed. What could it be? He didn't see a tag, why would Harry even put a tag? Jesus Zayn, concentrate.

    He slowly moved the top, uncovering it, looking inside, there were...bunch of pictures...he gasped seeing a picture of himself sleeping, sleeping. He started breathing heavily, as he continued looking, staring in horror. How the fuck did he get in his house? There were pictures of Zayn, showering, even shaving.

He also noticed some type of letters neatly folded on the right. He swallowed hard, turning to look at Mr. Styles who was looking straight at him already, giving him a quick wink, Zayn felt his phone vibrate in his pants.

  His hands trembled as he fished his phone out of his back pocket, reading the message.

  Unknown: Look in the bottom. (;

Zayn gulped making his hands move the pictures out the way, along with the letters, gasping when he reached the bottom of the box.

  There in a plastic bag, there were...hairs, and he's pretty sure they were his own.

Holy shit.

Messaging the Stalker // z. s //Read this story for FREE!