Fights, Camera, Attraction // Zayn Malik

39 [Shittedy tickle, we're in a pickle]

“Shit, what happened?!” I heard Liam's panicked voice arise from somewhere. It echoed.

I had no idea where I was. I gripped onto consciousness; I held onto it firmly, tenacious not to let it slip. But I was devoid of vision, and the inability to see terrified me. Was I blind?

I couldn't move either. My limbs were paralysed, refusing to comply with any form of motion. I felt the warmth I was earlier pressed against cease, and was lowered onto something soft. Perhaps a sofa or bed?

“Zayn?! What the hell did you do to her?!” Louis this time. His voice was crazy – a wild shriek of hysteria. Was it really that serious?

“I-I didn't mean to! We were on the lake, a-and it cracked and she fell in and I...and I...she-” his voice cut off as he broke into sobs. I have never in my life wanted to console somebody so badly before. I was desperate to awake so I could reach over and hug him so tightly his eyes would pop out of their sockets.

“Should we call an ambulance? She's so pale,” The accent proved it was undeniably Niall who had spoken.

“I think she just needs to keep warm. Zayn, change her into some dry clothes before she gets hypothermia or something,” Liam instructed.

“She's gonna be okay, isn't she?” Harry's voice was barely audible. Liam assured him that I would be, before I felt myself being risen from the soft surface and pulled into the familiar warmth of a certain someone's chest. I recognised the musky yet minty scent I had grown so fond of belonging to Zayn. His footsteps could be heard shuffling from the commotion of the boys in discussion, and then a door clicking shut. I was laid on yet another soft surface, instantly sinking into the mattress which confirmed it was a bed.

“I'm so sorry, Dezzy,” Zayn sighed as I felt him slip off my skates and socks. “I don't even know if you can hear me, but I'm so sorry”. He unzipped my skinny jeans, pulling them down to my ankles, before removing them completely. “I love you so much, Desiree”. Warm joggers slid up my legs and round my waist. “If anything happens to you, I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself”. My soaked snood was lifted above my head, followed by my sweater. “I just wanted a romantic day out, you know? Just you and me”. My wet shirt was tugged over my head, catching on my hair momentarily. I heard him inhale a sharp intake of breath, my pulse accelerating as his fingers trailed over my collarbone. I felt something being pulled from between my breasts, Zayn's hand retracting.

“You're wearing the locket,” he breathed. I could imagine him clutching the pendant in his closed fist.

A cupboard creaked open and closed, followed by him lifting my back from the bed so I was sitting up. He pulled an oversized shirt over my head that did not feel familiar. He guided my arms out of the sleeves before yanking it down my torso. “I'll make it up to you somehow, Dez, I promise. I don't know how yet, but I promise”.

He patted down my exposed flesh with a towel to be extra sure I was dry before draping a blanket over my body. The bed sunk beside me as I felt his arms wrap around me and rub up and down my side in his attempts to warm me. I was unsure if my body was warm or not as I couldn't feel it, but as he began to cause friction against my skin, I could feel my muscles tingling, heat radiating throughout my body.

“Zayn,” I managed to murmur, hardly incomprehensible through my barely-parted lips.

“Dez?” I felt his head shoot up from the pillow. I could only muster a light moan from my mouth in response. “I'm here, baby, I'm here”. He leaned forward and planted a lasting kiss onto my forehead. “Wake up, Dez. Please, wake up”.