Ziam One Shots

Depression, Bottles, and Knights

Zayn is diagnosed with depression when he is thirteen and hidden is his room, reading more than any boy his age ever had and cutting his wrists violently through the night. His father is all he has left, after his mother’s and sister’s untimely death the past autumn. He’s a little bit too broken for such a young age, but no one is there to hold his hand and help him through. After all, his father hasn’t been home from the bar for three solid days, and Zayn is sure he smells like vomit, urine, and sweat. It’s not something Zayn wants to smell anyway.

            So he’s alone, hidden. Too afraid to even ride in a car after what happened to his family. He doesn’t want to die like them, smashed in between two large pieces of metal, alone, and cold. Zayn’s in middle school, which is an evil invention in the first place, throwing together a bunch of hormonal teenagers who don’t know about their body, much less the changes that is happening to them. Kids are mean and confused and they don’t really understand how they are supposed to act or how they are supposed to fit in. None of them care that Zayn is hurting or that he is alone and confused. All they care about is getting boyfriends and girlfriends and kissing out and trying to get to all bases and then a home run. Zayn heard about a girl who did everything with her boyfriend. Zayn still doesn’t understand any of it.

            It’s a Friday, and Zayn’s sitting in the back of his Math class and doodling something nonchalantly at the bottom of his notebook. The girl sitting beside him pokes his shoulder and slips him a note with a giggle on her face. As soon as Zayn takes it in his fingers the girl laughs and turns away. It takes Zayn a minute to open the small note with his shaking fingers, but he eventually opens it and reads, “Party tonight: Louis’ house. Girls and guys. Everyone welcome. Bring drinks or snacks to get in. Be ready for a crazy night.”

            Zayn’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. Did he just get invited to Louis Tomlinson’s party? He looks up to Louis who is sitting at the front of the class room. He’s wearing the blue school uniform and his brown feathery hair is pushed off to the side. He’s smiling, joking about something with his table mate, Harry, who is equally as popular and stunning. It’s kind of awesome, Zayn thinks. He feels so different than them though. He’s small, scrawny, tan, black haired, golden eyed. But them, they’re different. Brown hair, probably soft, Zayn thinks. And they are so good with their words and so amazingly comfortable around other people. It seems like an impossible idea to Zayn, and he honestly isn’t sure whether he should go to the party tonight or not. No matter what he’s going to stand out. He always does.

            The bell rings, bringing the day to a close, and Zayn collects his things and heads out of the room. Before he can even get to his locker, Louis and Harry are by his side, smiling at him and beaming, “Hey, Malik, you coming to my party tonight? Or what?”

            “Uh, I’m not sure,” Zayn answers.

            “Why not?” Louis smirks, “Afraid you’ll have to play seven minutes of heaven with me?”

            Zayn blushes and tries to get away, but Louis and Harry don’t move. Harry says, “Just come, okay? I think you’ll have fun. We never see you outside of school anyway. Just this once? The address was on the note. See you there. Bring snacks or a drink to get in,”

            Harry and Louis wrap their arms around each other and walk down the hall.

            Later that night Zayn is running around his empty house, trying to look presentable for a party and also trying to find a snack or drink to take that is worthy of Louis’ party. He shakes his head as he runs, pulling on a tight red, long sleeve shirt and black skinnies. He’s so worked up over this stupid party that he shouldn’t even be going to. He wonders what his mother would think if she knew he was going to this party. She would probably tell him he couldn’t go. Maybe even say that he was too young. After all, Zayn’s only thirteen and his eyes are still too big for his head and his smile is only half of how great it could be.