Summary/Prompt: Angel!Liam Demon!Zayn
By: 1dfanficrealness.tumblr.com
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All he saw was fire. A lot of it actually. The clouds were dark and stormy and the landscape was craggy with jagged rocks and littered with piercing screams. Giant pools of lava surrounded him and there were evil looking things with tattered wings flying above his head. Now most would consider something like this a nightmare.
But for him it was the same reoccurring dream. He only ever had this dream when sleeping. Ever since he was a little boy he’d dream of fire and pain and torture and he didn’t know why. And every night he’d wake up in a cold sweat with his body shaking but skin on fire.
Zayn reached over to his bedside table scrambling for his pack of smokes and he lit one inhaling the soothing smoke into his lungs and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hands. The man looked over and saw that it was only five a.m. and he groaned knowing that he had only gotten three hours of sleep. Coming home from working a double at the bar to collapse in his bed in his tiny apartment and here he was wide awake again.
Honestly he was used to it, the man had never gotten more than five hours of sleep a night throughout his entire life and the reason was because of that dream. It wasn’t terrifying to him at all-he was so used to it-but the screams is what got him. He could hear begging for mercy and maniacal laughter and more screams came behind it. This was his life.
Constantly exhausted, over worked and nothing could help him sleep anymore. He’d tried alcohol-only gave him a hangover-he’d tried sleeping pills which even then didn’t work-he had once thought of just taking a handful but was scared since well, he wasn’t suicidal. Just fucking tired. And now he’d be dead on his feet at work again. Doing yet another double shift since that Eleanor girl had gone and got pregnant and what would it look like for a pregnant girl to be bartending?
He didn’t mind really, extra money and shifts was what he was all about. Had to make a living somehow and serving beer and liquor to idiots and businessman was just his calling in life apparently. He’d tried his hand at art and the man was talented but there wasn’t much money in it and he had bills to pay so he took the first job he could get when he moved to London with nothing but a couple thousand pounds saved up and a dream.
His dreams were dashed and he succumbed to the numbing reality he was just another hopeful sap looking for his big break in the city. He finished his cigarette and stood up stretching his tense muscles hearing his bones and joints pop getting a groan of satisfaction from his lips. Making his way into the kitchen he poured himself a glass of water and walked the ten feet into his living room/studio to continue a portrait of someone he didn’t know.
That was another thing in his dreams. Right at the very end, after all the screams and fire and pain, there was a man there. But it was peaceful where he was and Zayn only saw the smallest glimpses of him. He seemed very kind and humble and the only thing Zayn ever really remembered was his eyes.
They were these wide brown eyes the color of the richest chocolate and Zayn always felt like he was home when he looked in them. So he sat down at his desk turning on his computer to play his playlist of “Art Jamz” as he continued on the portrait of the man that haunted his dreams.
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Another splash of espresso, a sprinkling of cinnamon here and loaded with whip cream and the drink was perfect. Everything he did was perfect really. Didn’t matter what it was, could be from singing to making coffee for sleepy patrons all day. Everything he did was perfect.
“Here you go Ms. Adams, enjoy your day.” He smiled to the young woman who grabbed her drink and took a deep sip. She licked her lips, “Mmm, Liam my dear. I don’t know how you do it but you make the best coffee.” She slipped him a five pound note into his hand and the man always refused but she would insist and he’d take it and put it into the tip jar so that he could split everything with his best mate.
