Icarus | Z.M.

48 | Swim

Zayn Malik

It was weird to wake up beside someone else.

It was weird that I had slept through the night with her there.

And it was weird that I was the one who had offered to stay, that wanted to stay.

Victoria fell asleep quickly last night, after only a few minutes I felt her shoulders relax, her breathing became slow and peaceful. It took me a little longer once all the adrenaline had worn off, my body ached from the bruises, the cut along my chest and on my arm. Everything was stiff and burning. But I didn't focus on that. I was just glad she was safe.

I woke up before her, she seemed to still be in a deep sleep. Neither of us had moved at all, her back was to my chest, my arm was still draped over her, resting on her ribs. I found myself revelling in her warmth, finding comfort in that feeling.

It terrified me.

I could hear her soft breathing still, the feeling of her chest rising and falling.

If it was anyone else, had it been any other time I would have been terrified, done anything in my power to not lay here with her, to not have her in my arms. I had no idea why I wanted it, her. To have her close to me, to feel her when she was at peace most. To have her with me when she didn't look upset or scared, the two emotions she seems to feel the most around me.

I leaned in closer, resting my lip, my nose on the back of her hair. And I breathed in. Inhaling a scent that provided me with a feeling in my chest that I custom explain properly. I didn't think there was a word for it.

That was weird, Zayn.

Why the fuck I just smell her?

Christ she was fucking with my head.

Her hands were clutched to her chest, and a small part in my mind was grateful for that because she kept my hand closed in her chest, I wouldn't be able to pull away from her unless she moved. She had her knee up to her chest, I noticed she always slept like that, if I was there anyway. Like she wanted to curl up in a ball, take up as little space as possible. Did I make her that nervous?

I still had no idea whether I should feel content or whether I should panic.

But she was so warm, I didn't want to pull away, not yet at least.

My hand slipped from her chest, slowly and carefully to not wake her up. She didn't so much as change her breathing when I moved. Instead I traced my finger up and down the length of her arm, from her wrist and up to the sleeve of her shirt. My shirt that she was wearing to sleep. I had no idea why I liked that either. It warmed something in my stomach whenever I saw her wearing my clothes, and I was grateful for the fact that she had forgotten her pyjamas.

A small part of me wanted to see her face, to see what she really looked like when she was at peace. I only ever saw her when she was scared and stressed, typically because of something I had done or some shit that she was going to be put through.

I didn't like it when she looked scared.

God what the fuck was wrong with me?

A rational part of me panicked, realised what the fuck I was actually doing.

I pulled my hand from her arm, stopped feeling her soft skin and I moved to lay away from her, creating a small space between us. A space that there should have been. What the fuck was I thinking by holding her like that, wanting to sleep with her and wake up with her like that?

I lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I had no idea what time it was, but I didn't want to get up anytime soon. I knew I needed rest, my body needed rest and I needed to feel somewhat decent today in case anything happened because of how bad I had fucked up last night.