Scars (Ziam)

Amend

The only problem was that I was afraid to read something so revealing to complete strangers. Even if I hadn't known Zayn for too long, he didn't feel like a stranger. He felt like safety.

"Can you help me write something new?" I found myself asking, finally looking up at Zayn. His eyes widened in surprise, and he gave out an embarrassed chuckle as he shrugged.

"Writing isn't really my forte."

"I think you have talent in it," I expressed. "Your poem was really good. You said you wanted to make me feel things like you felt whenever I read you my poem. You definitely succeeded."

Zayn's poem was beautiful. No matter how many tried it took him or how long it took him to write it all up, it was like nothing I've read before.

"Okay," He agreed with a smile. "We can work together on something. I'm good at brainstorming for my paintings, so maybe the same can apply to poetry writing."

"Can we do it tomorrow night, though? I, um... I have to talk to my sister tonight." I turned away again, finishing my task on refilling the case.

"Ruth?" Zayn wondered, and I shook my head.

"Nicola. We've become a bit distant ever since the accident. She threw herself into psychology and trying to understand our mum's actions and the way the brain works. I am always so afraid to talk to her because I don't want her to do that thing where she reads too far into my words. I just want her to be the big sister who would hold my hand to cross the street or let me sleep in her bed when I had a nightmare when I was younger. Not my therapist."

"Is that what you're going to say to her?" Zayn wondered, and I nodded.

"Her letter about me was basically her apology. She reached out to me the very moment I came home from the hospital, but I was too anxious to even read it or speak to her about it." I didn't tell any of my family members what I thought about their letters. "You're the only one I talked to after reading the letters."

"You read them all at the same time?"

I nodded. "One after another."

"Shit," He cursed under his breath. Zayn was the only one there by my side when I fully described how I saw myself. He was the only one who truly knew the extent of what the letters meant to me; how they would make or break me. He understood the severity of the situation. "You just continue to impress me with how strong you are."

I finished placing all of the pastries away, but I remained staring at the case. Zayn's voice was full of something close to pride or adoration, but I found myself shaking my head.

"I'm not," I whispered out, thinking about how badly I wanted to just rush home and lay in bed all day. It wasn't too long ago that I sat on the roof of my home and thought about jumping off. It wouldn't kill me, but it would still cause some damage-- anything to distract from the ache inside.

Of course, nobody knew about those thoughts.

"You are, Liam," Zayn reiterated. "The fact that you're standing here, working and still going to school and willingly going to speak to your sister about the divide between the two of you, it shows just how incredibly strong you are. Even if you can't see that in yourself, I will always remind you of it. Just as I will remind you that you are beautiful; that you are not alone."

I thought about Zayn's lips on mine once again. It was a thought that would cross my mind at random times of the day. I would be sitting in class just staring at my notebook, writing something down in my journal, laying in bed at night, and the action would come back to me.

His lips were soft and warm; everything about him was. The way he kissed me was tender, but he didn't make me feel like I was incredibly fragile or that I would break. Zayn was the first person that ever made me feel wanted in that way-- craved and desirable.