Baby "Jayn"

"I have bad dweam"

ᑕᕼᗩᑭTEᖇ 131
[Zayn]

Zayn watched Liam sleep, a disappointed pout on his face. He wondered why Liam smoked, and why someone would do that. Wasn't it ugly having smoke in their mouth? Do they eat chicken while smoking? Does that make a BarbieKu in their mouth?

Zayn huffed and climbed up on the bed, sliding under the covers beside him. He could hear Liam's soft breathing and he felt the big guy's back rise and fall. Zayn glanced at the arrow tattoo on Liam's arm and he traced the arrows, frowning. "You have tattoo, but you'we not bad," he said. "And Jayn daddy have tattoo, but he bad. You shmoke, but you'we not bad. Daddy shmoke and he bad," he said confusedly. Maybe it was nothing, but the smoke and the tattoos and the yelling and the bottles; that's what his father was. That and belts, slaps and fists. Zayn blinked back the images in his mind and he whimpered, scooting closer to Liam. He hadn't thought about his dad in a long time, but small things would remind him. Watching someone else interact with their dad, watching a person with a tattoo cross the street or a shattered bottle lying on the ground.

He stared up at the ceiling and jerked away as Liam moved onto his back. Zayn relaxed and snuggled into the other boy's arm, hugging it tightly to his chest. It didn't take him long to fall asleep, taking a small nap.

Daddy blew the smoke out of his mouth, sprawled on the couch downstairs. Zayn peeked through the bars of the stairs, wondering when Wali would be returning home. The telly was on and Zayn watched in fascination. He never got the right button when he tried to open it and if he ever did, he couldn't get something he understood to play. The people on the screen were crying though and Zayn tilted his head, wondering why they were crying.

"Boy! Come here!"

Zayn froze and he wondered whether he should run upstairs.

"I can hear the stairs creak, I know you're there, come here."

The man's voice wasn't angry, just annoyed. Zayn's heart pounded against his chest as he slowly walked down the stairs, clutching the bars tightly. He wadded over to the couch, hands fumbling. "Yesh?"

"Bring me one of the bottles from the fridge," Daddy said, eyes glued on the screen. He tapped the cigarette on one of the crystal plates and ash gathered on the surface. Zayn scrambled to the kitchen. He pulled on the fridge door, but it wouldn't open. He pulled harder and it finally opened. He pushed it completely open and pulled out a bottle in both his hands. He walked over to the couch, wobbling on the way.

He stopped in front of his father, peeking through the glass of the bottle. "D-daddy?" he said timidly since the bottle was almost falling out of his grip, and daddy was too busy watching the telly. The man's eyes snapped towards him. "Don't call me that," he barked.

"Showwy, sh-shiw," Zayn said, arms falling in relief as the bottle was snatched from his hands. The man blew out the smoke from his lips and it hit the little boy's face. Yuck, it stinks. Zayn scrunched his face and the man chuckled. "Don't like the smoke, huh? It's just a cigarette, though." He took a deep drag and blew out the smoke in Zayn's face. Zayn coughed and lifted his small hands to his face. He watched as the smoke escaped his dad's nostrils and he tilted his head curiously. Daddy grinned and let out a grunt, making more smoke escape his nostrils. Zayn smiled in curiosity. Daddy suddenly lifted the cigarette up, the smoke hitting Zayn's nostrils. The little boy backed away quickly, heart pounding, and he started walking towards the stairs.

"Where are you going? You don't have to stay in your room, you know!"

Goosebumps rose on Zayn's arm as daddy grabbed his arm and he flinched away. He watched as the smile on daddy's face slowly turned into a scowl. "Showwy," Zayn apologized with a start. Smoke bellowed out of daddy's nostrils but Zayn didn't smile this time. He stood there, legs shaking as he awaited something bad to happen. Instead, the man grabbed the bottle and drank from it.