Gay Is Bad-Ziam

Chapter 1

Zayn's P.O.V.

"And remember Zayn, no drugs, no sex, and minimal drinking. Don't disappoint us, son." Yaser reminds me for the 20th time.

"I know, no need to keep repeating it!" I groan in frustration as I stand at the front door with my three suitcases. I can't believe I'm finally leaving home and going off to uni.

My father shoots me one last stern glare before stepping away and allowing me to say goodbye to my family.

Mum has tears in her eyes as I pull her in for a hug and peck her cheek. "I love you, mummy." I mumble into her hair as she sobs.

"Don't do anything stupid." She begs me.

"I won't, I swear. Walihya, come gimme a hug before I start crying too." I say and jokingly ruffle up my mums hair.

She groans and playfully shoves me, causing me to fall into Walihya's arms. She hugs me tight. "Don't be falling for any guys, I've seen the way you look at guys at the mall. It's disgusting." She whispers into my ear and I freeze.

"What are you talking about? I'm straight and you know it." I say with a confident tone as I pull away from her skinny arms.

She shrugs. "Okay then I must just be seeing things. Bye Zayn." She says and I can feel my blood boil.

I turn back to my dad who's burning holes into the back of my head. "She's just making stuff up-"

He interrupts me. "Gay people are fake. They just want attention." He says and closes his eyes.

I huff and pull Safaa and Doniya in for a quick hug before walking out the front door. I love my family and I will miss them, yet I am so happy to get a break from them.

I get into the taxi and buckle up. I tell the driver to take me to the airport and he quickly types the location into his GPS and drives off.

I see my family waving from inside our small home and I wave back, tears burning at the back of my eyes. I'm a quiet guy, making friends is not easy for me. What if I don't make any friends at uni and I'll just be lonely for the whole year?

I don't even want to go to uni. I'm majoring in English even though I've never been too good. I'm into art and other things that my parents say are a "dumb hobby" and it "won't make me any money".

I've never been on a plane before and I'm scared shitless. I won't show it though. I'm good at hiding my emotions and cover them with the blank look on my face that I always carry around.

Maybe this is a good thing. I've never been very far outside of Bradford yet I've never felt like I belong. Maybe moving out to California will be a good thing.

Half an hour later, the cab is pulling up in front of the big building that I've driven by numerous times, yet I've never been inside.

"Thank you, sir." I tell the older man as I pay for the ride.

"No problem, do you need help with the bags?" He asks me.

"No it's alright, have a good day." I say and shut the door behind me. Honestly, I could've used some help since I'm not the strongest guy. But I hate asking for help. It makes me feel weak and useless.

The driver props open the back of the car and I quickly pull out my bags. With one last wave to the driver, I turn around and head into the air conditioned airport.

Checking in and security is stressful, as predicted. They make sure to check me extra well since I've got brown skin. I don't mind too much, I've got nothing to hide.