Heartstrings ➳ z.m.

ten - skylar

            “Just making sure that you were alive,” she replied sleepily. “Why can’t you be like those roommates in movies and leave me a note on the fridge, or something?”

            I laughed dryly. “Or you could be the movie roommate and wake up at a decent hour.”

            “Touché,” she grumbled. “Well anyway, I’m just checking in on you. And you should probably go see if Zayn wants company.”

            I ran my hands through my hair again. How did Trinity know that Zayn wasn’t with me?

            As if sensing my question, she added, “He doesn’t seem like a movie kind of guy. Or an anything kind of guy, really. He’s a lot more boring than they give him credit for, but you seem to like him, so whatever. I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Tell Niall hi for me. Alright, bye.”

            My finger hovered over the end button, a sour taste forming in my mouth. Zayn wasn’t boring. Sure, he didn’t exactly do the most exciting things, but he wasn’t boring.

            “You alright, Skylar?” Liam called to me, and I realized that I had been staring at my hands for at least half a minute now.

            I nodded curtly, my eyes narrowing in on the short hallway that led to Zayn’s room. “Yeah, fine. Just going to—” I nodded my head in the general direction, and Liam nodded.

            “Yeah, okay, cool.”

            I nodded once more, even though it was unnecessary, before shoving my phone back into my pocket and crossing the short distance to the boy’s room. When I jiggled the handle, I realized that it was locked, and frowned. “Aw c’mon Zayn. Open up.”

            A few moments passed, and I thought he was ignoring me, before the door reluctantly opened, heaving out a groan.

            Zayn’s eyes scrutinized me, little flecks of hazel and brown dancing over my skin, his sketchbook tucked under his arm.

            An angry frown was on his face, and I sighed, slipping into the room and closing the door.

            “Are you mad at me?” I sat down on his bed, staring at his blank wall, before looking back when I felt the bed dip under his weight. He was no longer looking at me, his furious glare burning a hole in the carpet instead. “If it’s about your tattoo, then I’m sorry—”

            He looked me in the eyes, and I felt the words die down in my throat. I couldn’t really read his face, but his eyes… His eyes said it all. He was angry, but it wasn’t about the tattoo thing, and I don’t even think it was at me.

            I sighed; a big, heavy sigh that I didn’t even realize I was holding, full of relief. “You scared me, you know.” I shoved him playfully, shaking my head. “Never do that again.”

            He smiled. It wasn’t a big smile, and in an instant it was gone, but he smiled nonetheless, worrying his lip with his teeth. I thought I even saw half a dimple there, behind that little smirk.

            And I really wanted to see it again.

            I didn’t even think before I had tackled him, rolling us so that I was on top, and instantly my fingers flew for his sides.

            His eyes widened first, before he started squirming and biting his lip even harder to contain the laugh that was dying to explode.

            And so I tickled him harder, and I waggled my hands over his stomach, and finally, finally a joyous laugh rang out, and his gorgeous smile grew wide, and his eyes crinkled to the point where I could only see his inkblot lashes, and his laugh was so stupid, and dumb, and cute that I found myself laughing too, even before Zayn started a counterattack on instinct.

            We were a tangled mess of limbs and laughs and I hadn’t even noticed that the other four boys had gathered in the doorway until Harry had cleared his throat.

            I released Zayn, rolling off of him, my face red from chuckling so hard. “Yes?”

            “Nothing,” Harry grinned, his eyes wandering to his bandmate, who was currently fixing his twisted t-shirt. “Just... Don’t laugh so loud, okay?” He shook his head for a moment, and chuckled himself. “You do have a nice laugh though, Zayn. I’m happy to finally hear it.”

            And then they left, closing the door behind them, and I turned to look back at Zayn.

            He was staring back at me, wide-eyed and innocent, like he expected me to pounce on him again. It was cute, and slightly endearing.

            “Don’t worry,” I giggled, lying down beside him so that our shoulders touched, “I’m done. I quit.”

            Zayn said nothing beside me, reaching over to grab his sketchbook. He smiled at me before flipping it open, eyes glancing around his bed for his pencil.

            “Found it,” I told him, handing it, and he bit his lip, nodding a thanks.

            I watched him draw for a while—he was drawing some mountain range or something—before standing up to stretch. “I’m hungry, are you hungry?”

            He pursed his lips at me, which I assumed meant no, remembering the fact that he ate at a certain time. “Right, well, at least let me make you tea then. Same way I made it last time?”

            He nodded, and I headed toward the door, glancing over my shoulder once more before opening it.

            Zayn was smiling.

            I couldn’t help but feel like I had broken down one of his walls.

            He definitely wasn’t boring at all.

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I'm just pointing this out in case I haven't made it obvious enough. The reason that the boys have never heard Zayn laugh and stuff is because they let him keep to himself. Skylar doesn't do that. She's actually really getting to know Zayn, and making him do things he hasn't done [for a long time]. So, yeah :)