Entangled | Zayn Malik

Chapter Fourteen

Zayn's POV

I can feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness as my body is lifted onto what I assume is a stretcher. I can't open my eyes, I'm trying so hard but they just won't open. I'm tired. I want to speak and tell Kaya that I'm okay - that I'll be okay, but I can't. Why isn't my body responding to me? Why isn't it doing what it's told? I want to feel angry that my body isn't working but I'm incapable of feeling such an emotion right now. My body is lifted and then lowered again. I can hear sirens, I think. There's voices around me but I can't make out what they're saying. Suddenly my body is jolting and shaking and I think we're driving over speed bumps. I feel a hand grip my own hand tightly. Then the darkness clouds my mind again.

—

Kaya's POV

Seven minutes.

Seven minutes I've been staring at this clock on the wall, hoping the time will pass by quicker. But it only seems to go slower - mocking me with every second that passes that I still haven't heard from the doctor.

The smell of antiseptic clouds the waiting room along with that indescribable hospital smell. The overbearing perfume of the woman next to me is too much to handle, I can actually feel it clinging to my lungs with every breath I take. I exhale sharply before standing up and walking over to the opened window of the room, trying to breathe in some fresh air from outside. The sky is dark and dull and the streets are empty except for a few people outside smoking cigarettes. I glance at my phone to check the time. 2:43am. I slump down in the seat next to the window and take a look around.

It's in the early hours of Sunday morning and I'm not surprised by how busy the waiting room is. There's a mixture of people here, but mostly drunken people who've injured themselves on a night out.

The paramedics wouldn't let me go with Zayn as we entered the hospital, I was ushered to the waiting room and told to take a seat.

It's been about twenty minutes now and with every minute that passes I feel even more nauseous. I feel like if I dare to speak all of the panic and worry will just pour out of my mouth all over this damn room.

I don't even know any of Zayn's family so I can't let them know what's happened. I only know of his uncle and I don't have a number for him. Although I don't even know how comfortable I would feel about calling him, and I have a feeling Zayn wouldn't even want me to call him.

I stand up and begin pacing back and forth in front of the waiting room doors. I can't stay still any longer. My mind is in overdrive with worry and I need to try and calm myself down before I end up in a hospital bed myself.

"Kaya Greyson?" A doctor calls into the crowd of the waiting room and I immediately rush towards him.

"Hi, I'm Kaya. Is Zayn okay? Can I see him?" I ramble.

"He'll be fine, if you just follow me I can show you where he is. He's asking for you." The doctor tells me, which makes my heart flip a bit.

"Okay." I say.

We walk to the end of the corridor and into a room on the left. The worry and panic lifts from my shoulders and dissolves from my stomach as I notice all the colour is back in Zayns face and he looks normal again, just tired. He smiles up at me as I enter the room.

"Thanks Doctor Murray." Zayn says to the doctor with a look in his eye that I can't distinguish, and the doctor just nods before leaving the room.

I take a seat next to his bed.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Doctor said I collapsed from dehydration." He says in a groggy voice.

"You're okay though?" I ask, and he nods.

"You scared me, you twat." I say and a smile slowly spreads across his face.

He starts to cough, so I get up to go out to the water fountain in the corridor to get him a drink.

"Back in a sec." I tell him.

"Thank you." He says.

—

I am absolutely drained. It's now 4:46am, Sunday morning still, as we walk through my front door. I just feel like curling up on this floor and going to sleep. The floor does look nice. It would make an acceptable bed.

Zayn was released from hospital and told to get plenty of rest and fluids, he told me that he didn't want to have to deal with his uncle questioning him, so I invited him back here.

"Just go into the living room and I'll go get you a drink." I tell Zayn and he nods.

I walk out of the kitchen and into the living room with a bottle of water under my arm, a glass of milk in one hand, a packet of cookies under my other arm and a big bag of tortilla chips in the other hand. Zayn raises his eyebrow at me as I walk towards the couch.

"So apparently milk is supposed to help dehydration." I say sitting the glass down on the coffee table.

"And the cookies and crisps are to get your salt and sugar levels back up." I sit the rest of the items on the table before sitting down on the couch beside Zayn.

"Impressive." He nods approvingly and I raise my hands up in the air a little as if to say you know it, I got this.

He leans forward and opens the packet of cookies and points them at me, offering me one.

I take one and pick up the TV remote in front of me. I forgot how good chocolate chip cookies were.

I flick through the channels until I find a foreign film with subtitles. I do love a good foreign film. I don't really know why, they interest me.

We sit on the couch eating cookies and crisps, watching this film, and occasionally giving each other a weird look when something we don't really understand happens on screen.

The tiredness is taking over my body now so I lay my head back against the arm of the couch. Zayn lifts my legs and puts them on top of his lap, so I'm now stretched out on the couch. I smile internally with content as I drift off to sleep.

—

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–S x