Drawn Out Dreams. [A Zarry Fanfiction.]

Chapter Eighteen

“That’s just beautiful, Zaynie.” She spoke, stroking his cheek once again, but he nuzzled his head so that his chin was now rested in her fingers.

“Harry held my chin like this too!” He spoke excitedly, and she gave another blissful laugh before tapping his chin with her thumb and pulling her hand back.

“And his lips, my boy, what were they like?” She asked in a low whisper, her right eye slowing winking at her Grandson, before a flush of pink covered Zayn’s cheeks. He bit on his lip and looked over to the wallpaper once more, taking in the details again before looking back at his Nana with a wide smile.

“His lips were so soft…and, and they felt so nice! They gave my lips tingles…and they’re this perfect pink colour…” Zayn’s excited rambles about the boy he was so captivated by went on and on, causing his Grandmother to chuckle every so often at her happy Grandson.

Suddenly, his eyes lit up in excitement, and he jumped up to his feet.

“Nana, wait here, I’ll be back in a second!” He told her excitedly, before his feet ran from the room, his joyful laughs filling the rooms as he ran through them, leaving his Nana in the living room. It was so obvious to her that he was smitten with the curly haired boy that he described so much. Every last detail was etched into her Grandson’s mind, and she honestly couldn’t feel any happier.

Zayn’s brown eyes had scanned across the garden, catching every single small flower that was planted in the flowerbeds, his mind clocking onto every single colour, his mind storing the colours and the shapes of the beautiful petals for possible drawings later on, before his brown eyes looked over the small, pink flower that was hidden underneath a bunch of large, bright yellow daisies. Zayn had carefully picked the flower, before he had rushed back into the house, Tom the cat eagerly following at his heels.

“His lips look like this colour…but even more perfect, Nana.” Zayn spoke, sitting down on the floor by his Grandmother’s feet and holding the small flower up for her to inspect. She looked over it with a warm smile, and her old eyes looked over the flower in interest.

“Beautiful, just like you explained, Zaynie.” She spoke with a soft tone, before she leaned over and tucked the small flower into the boy’s top blazer pocket.

“Well, you best look after it then, and look after your first love, too. They are always the most special.” She smiled, before her old hand had reached over to Zayn’s precious cheek, her thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone in affection for her Grandson. She really couldn’t feel any happier, her Grandson was experiencing love, and that’s what she had prayed for her whole life. She just hoped now that the boy she had heard so much about was looking after her Grandson, her precious, precious grandson. 

“I’ll look after him, he’s special, so special.” Zayn smiled, looking down at the flower in his top pocket with sparkling eyes.

Zayn skipped down from the pavement and towards the bus stop, which would take him from his Nana’s area of town to the bus station, where he would catch another bus to get to his Mum’s house. Zayn would travel on these buses every night, and he enjoyed it. There was always something exciting about going on the buses. Each bus ride was different, there was always someone new. There was always someone that would sit on their own on the moving buses, their eyes looking out of the window with some sort of desperation in their faces that made Zayn think about them. Zayn liked to think about people.

On his Nana’s street, there were two bus stops for two different buses. His was the second one, which meant he had to walk past the first bus stop. That was another thing that Zayn liked to do, he liked to look at the people waiting for the bus. His big brown eyes tried to look at their bus tickets, imagining that they were going somewhere important to them, or interesting to them. He just liked to look at everyone, the boy just wanted to know about their purpose in life. He didn’t understand his, so he tried to understand everyone else’s, and what he didn’t know, his amazing imagination filled in the gaps. To Zayn, the man in a coat wasn’t just a guy waiting for the bus. He was going somewhere, he had been to millions of places and was about to journey on another adventure.