Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Twelve

“Jesus,” A low sigh came from opposite the classroom, before a rubber suddenly made sharp contact into the centre of Zayn’s forehead. Zayn immediately flinched and jumped in his chair as his eyes flew up in fright to see what was going on around him. If anyone had been sat close enough to Zayn, they would have heard the small, kitten like mew fall from his lips.

“Malik!” One of the boys called, and Zayn looked around the room. His chocolate eyes landed on the boy that was calling over to him first. He had pitch-black hair and bright blue eyes. The boy’s eyebrows were stuck together in a frown, as the boy stared down at Zayn, and he seemed to be chewing slightly. Each time the boy’s jaw moved, a laughter line popped up and disappeared into his cheek.

Zayn then quickly peered around the classroom. The boy closest to the black haired boy was looking at Zayn as well, even though he was quiet, yet was wearing the same frown. The rest of the boys in the class hadn’t even bothered to look up, but Zayn now noticed that the teacher had left the room, most probably going to get some printing, or something along those lines. Zayn looked back at the blue eyed boy and swallowed quietly.

“About time…” The boy grumbled again. The boy that was sat next to him tutted. He was also watching Zayn, but he must have gotten bored as his brown eyes rolled around his eyelids, before he looked down at his sketchbook with a huff. 

Zayn remained quiet, as the blue-eyed boy looked over to him, chewing lazily, a look of distain on his face. Zayn could only imagine that maybe he was chewing on gum, and he didn’t like the flavour of it, which was why he looked so unhappy.

“Would you pass me the scissors?” He demanded, dropping the pen that he was holding in his left hand. The blue coloured pen fell onto his sketchbook and Zayn’s eyes watched as the pen slowly rolled down the page, his brown eyes catching the make of the pen, before he looked back up at the blue eyed boy again.

A heavenly laugh seemed to echo from outside of the open doors of the art room, and Zayn looked up with a small smile. He recognised that laugh anywhere, and soon enough, his brown eyes were met with a pair of emerald green ones. Harry was walking past the room with a pile of textbooks in his hand. He was walking with one of his friends, who was chattering away so fast that his lips didn’t seem to touch when the words left his mouth. Harry’s brown curls bounced a little lazily, as he turned to look at Zayn for a moment. A small smile spread across Harry’s face, before he turned his face around once more, which meant it was too late for Zayn to smile wider at his only friend.

“Oi!”

Two hands came from nowhere and grabbed hold of each of Zayn’s blazer lapels. He squeaked a little, his face quickly turning around to see the blue-eyed boy’s face only inches away. Zayn flinched as the boy threw him off the blue stool that he had been sat on. The two hands let go as Zayn flew onto the floor, his back hitting the hard surface first, before the stool skidded and fell on top of him. It was only light, and Zayn had been thrown under heavier things, but it still hurt his small torso.

“All I wanted was the fucking scissors!” He spat, before the boy grabbed Zayn’s pencil tin in one of his large hands. His fingernails were trimmed, and there was a silver band going around the boy’s thumb. With a turn of his wrist, Zayn’s pencils fell from the tin, and one by one hit his chest, before bouncing off into his face or neck.

Zayn’s eyes were scrunched together, but when the loss of contact ended, he opened them again. He looked up to see the boy walking away, back to his side of the classroom, his fists clenched, and one of them was clenched around a pair of scissors. Zayn watched him for a moment before he shuffled up onto his bum, so that he was sitting up right. Another breeze passed around his hot body, and he looked around him at where all of his pencils had gone. One of the lead had broken from his favourite pencil, and Zayn reached over to it quietly, before he placed it back into the metal pencil tin.

Zayn carefully did this with all of his pencils. As the other boys in the class completely ignored what had just happened, either due to pure disinterest or to being too busy forming ideas for their artwork, Zayn sat on the cold, tiled floor. He brought his legs in front of him so that they were now crossed, and his fingertips slowly collected each of the pencils into his tin. He arranged them as he did so, his brown eyes looking over them all for any dents or scratches. There were only two that were damaged; both leads had been broken off. He placed them next to each other, and looked at them sadly.

“Mr Styles, can I help you?” Mrs Martins’ voice filled the room, and Zayn looked up suddenly. His green eyes watched as his art teacher walked into the room, giving Harry Styles a curious look as she did so.

Harry was now stood by the classroom door. One of his hands was clinging onto the side of the doorframe, his knuckles almost going white as he looked across the room. Zayn was too busy looking up at Harry with a wide smile and sparkling brown eyes to realise that Harry was sending a deathly glare across the classroom.

Mrs Martins rose an eyebrow as she looked over the curly haired boy, who was a head taller than her. He slowly looked away from the object of his glares, before he looked down at Zayn. Zayn’s smile seemed to brighten even more, but as Zayn was about to scramble up and pull Harry into the classroom to show he was welcome, Harry quickly looked away and backed out from the classroom.

“It’s fine.” Harry mumbled, before he looked to his feet. He gave one last green-eyed glance to Zayn, before he left. Zayn was too sucked into the beautiful emerald colours that were wrapped around Harry’s black pupils to realise how pained Harry looked before he left. Too pained, and too ashamed. But of course, it was all unnoticed by Zayn.

The boy scrambled back onto his stool and quickly grabbed one of his drawing pencils, before he put pencil to paper. His mind and hands were working double time, as he quickly sketched out the main thing that seemed to stick on his mind. The lead of the pencil scratched and shot across the paper, in complete submission to Zayn’s hand and mind.

“What have you thought of, Zayn?” Mrs Martins’ soft voice soon broke the concentration that Zayn had had on his drawing. He didn’t look up, he simply lifted up his pencil and wrote a small, but careful, ‘eyes’ on the top of the page, before he went back to the drawing. His mind was looking back to everytime he had ever seen Harry’s green eyes, and he closed his eyes for a moment to purely concentrate on them, before his pencil set off again.

“Well, they say that eyes are the gates to the imagination.” She spoke softly, before she patted his shoulder a little and walked back to her other students. He finally stopped drawing and watched her walk away, before he looked back down at his drawing.

After all of the drawings and sketches that he had ever done, this drawing of Harry’s eyes had never seemed more important to him. Zayn’s pencil may have been completely submissive towards his mind and his own imagination, but his heart was completely submissive to Harry Styles’ eyes.