Take Care. [Zayn Malik Fic] (ON HOLD)

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The funny thing about being cut off from the rest of the world your whole life is that when you do have feelings for someone, you have no clue how to react.

Like right now. I’m sitting in a car with the boy of my dreams, when the only boy I ever talked to was the doctors at the hospital. And Tyler, of course.

But that’s a different story.

Even worse, I have no topics. Anything going on in my mind right now would have me re-committed. And plus, I’m horrible at making small talk, you know, since I was A MENTAL PATIENT FOR THE PAST 17 YEARS, NO BIG DEAL.

I don’t even care. He’s talking to the other guys, and I’m sitting in silence. To be honest, I kept up with them regularly. When my uncle came to visit me, he’d tell me about how well ‘the boys’ were doing, how successful they were. He even brought me pictures sometimes. I’ll tell you the truth; I didn’t even think they were real at first.

In my solitude, I notice it’s raining. Not very surprising for London weather, but still, I hadn’t really felt actual rain before. I roll down the window and stick my hand out. Wet. Cold. Refreshing. I wonder why I hear some people don’t like it. I LOVE it.

“What are you doing?” The dark-haired one asks. No, not Zayn; there’s another boy with fairly dark hair, kind of brown-ish. I believe his name is Liam, or something along those lines.

“Me?”  I say, cluelessly. “Oh, I was just feeling the rain. I’ve never actually felt how it feels before.”

“Oh. Well, don’t get my car wet, please. I’ve paid too much.” He replies back. Wow. Banter.

“Wait a minute, man, where is she staying?” Zayn says, pointing to me. Wait; he’s right. Where am I staying?

“Louis, can she stay at our flat for the night?” Harry says. Right now, I’m having major trouble putting names to faces.

“Sure,” the one with tousled light brown hair says; I’m guessing he’s Louis. “I’m not doing anything.” I would have had the upper hand if I was staying at Zayn’s, but alright. It’s a start. I remain quiet.

***

It is now 1700, 5 p.m. to most of you. We’ve finally made to their – well, what is now our – complex. It’s a fairly nice building, about 15, maybe 18 stories tall. “Which floor do you live on?” I ask quietly.

“10,” the blonde one, I think is name is Niall, replies, as we leave the car. “Why?”

“I have a terrible fear of heights.” I explain. I hate doing that. Explaining myself, that is.

“Is 10 too high for you or no?”

“10’s okay,” I reply as we enter the building. I take the stairs; better for my health.

As I reach floor ten, I see the boys have already made it upstairs. “What took you so long?”  Harry asks.

“I took the stairs. Which room is it?” I say, quickly changing the subject.

“317,” Louis says. “I’ll open it.”

The room was very spacious; two bedrooms, full bath, nice living room and kitchen and all. But then it finally hits me: two bedrooms, three people. I hope no one tries to be slick, if you know what I mean. “You’ll be sleeping in Harry's room, Taj," Lou says to me. I catch Harry making a 'why me' type face. Very nice. "You'll like it here. I promise."

"Not with him around," I mutter quietly under my breath.

***

Some fifteen minutes later I'm getting unpacked and settled in to what is now me and Harry's room. We've decided that I'd get half, and he'd get half. I also got full rights to the couch. Eh.

Halfway into unpacking, Harry stumbles into the room. "Need any help?" he asks. Does it look like it though?

"No, I'm fine," I say politely, contradicting my thoughts. An awkward silence only filled by the sound of drawers and dressers opening and closing lasts for a good ten minutes. It becomes unbearable when Harry finally says, "You're cute, you know that?"

Whoa.

Offguard.

"What?" I reply back, dazed.

"Nothing," he says.  But it's too late for nothing.

I think we just might have a love triangle on our hands.