One More Spoon of Cough Syrup [Zayn Malik FanFiction]

Chapter 8

 "And I know there's no grantees, but I'm not alone." - 'I'm Moving On' by Rascal Flatt.

It had been four days since I had visited Zayn for his first 'session'. He hadn't texted, however I was in contact with Liam who was keeping me updated on any times when they went out. As far as we both knew, Zayn was never alone outside his house's walls.

It was easy enough to go to their place myself, but I didn't want to be pushy this early on in Zayn's ... what? Treatment? I had no idea what to call it exactly. But I knew that if I pushed him to talk to me, we'd get absolutely nowhere. I had to wait for him to come to me.

However, it was on the fifth day that things really took a turn for the better.

"SANIYA! DOOR!" Lana yelled from her room.

Being Lana, she left packing for the last minute, so she was panicking a lot. 'What if I run out of money? Should I wear black there? What if someone takes my suitcase, should I leave my really expensive stuff?' Despite her being my best friend, sometimes I felt like hitting her in the face. 

I sighed, and rolled off my bed, leaving Life of Pi on my bed. It was probably the most-read book I owned. The pages were creased and the cover peeled at the corners; the spine had a white crease line down the middle and a few of the pages were close to falling out. That being said, I treasure my books with all my heart.

I was pretty surprised to see Zayn standing at the door. The first thought that went through my mind: 'Is anyone with him?' I was disappointed to see that there wasn't - I saw Harry's car, but no one was in there. I also knew that Zayn didn't have a driver's licence.

"Hi," I greeted, curiously.

"Hey," he replied. "Can I talk to you?"

"We are talking."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, sure, come in," I said, smiling, ready to attack him with the same question that had been on my mind for the past few days. "Want anything to eat or something?"

"No, thanks, I'm good."

We went to the TV room and sat on the sofas. I was the first to bring up the topic. "What's been going on the past five days, then?"

He heaved a sigh. "They've been...pretty tough."

"Because you didn't call me or text and there was no one to help," I said, straightforwardly. "It's been five freaking days, Zayn! I've been worried about you, I thought you went and did something crazy -"

"You don't understand," Zayn moaned, standing up and pacing.

"Help me to, then," I persisted, standing up as well.

"I-I think Liam found out," Zayn said, looking worryingly into my eyes. "About my cutting."

I didn't mention the conversation Liam and I had. "He can't have," I said confidently, yet in a tone which stated that I hadn't done anything. "Liam's the sort of person to confront people about things. It's been five days and he still hasn't, right? It's only you and me Zayn."

"I hope so," he mumbled.

"Is that all you wanted to talk about?"

He turned a little red, but the look in his eyes told me that it wasn't because he was embarrassed.

"No," he said, finally. "Two days back, I-I sort of...snuck out."

Snuck out to do what? I tried not to give him a dangerous look and simply waited for him to continue. He found it difficult to speak, suddenly.