[{Final book in the Zayn Malik Sickfic series}]
It's been another year. The boys have been extremely busy working on their fifth album. Now that it's finally finished they can't wait for this little break to be over. Zayn can't wait to see his boys...
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Zayn perked up when he spotted the familiar dark hair among the shops. Amara pulled her jacket closer and huddled up the path to the parking lot. She spotted him and sent him a slight wave, her piercing eyes taking him in. She seemed fine, but there were dark spots under her eyes.
"Hey," Zayn greeted awkwardly, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Hi. What are you doing out alone? Where are your babysitters?"
Zayn clenched his jaw. "They're not my babysitters. I had an errand to run."
Amara rolled her eyes. "I meant it as a positive thing, you brat. It's freezing out here, aren't you cold? Let's go."
Zayn didn't answer her because really, he had been rather enjoying the cold weather. "So, what were you doing?" he asked, trying to start a conversation. Amara shrugged. "Stuff."
Zayn frowned at the vague answer. "Okay then."
"What were you doing?" Amara prodded, and Zayn narrowed his eyes. "Stuff."
"Rude." Amara smiled slightly. "What kind of stuff?"
"Mhm, that's not how it works. What kind of stuff were you doing?"
"I was dealing with some dark stuff," Amara told him, pushing the door to the bar when it clearly said pull. Zayn held back a snort. "Pull."
"Yeah, I read that, thanks," Amara huffed. But the door was locked, and a small sign to the left said that they were closed today. Amara cursed and turned around with a groan. "Great."
Zayn shrugged, studying her closely. She looked like she desperately needed a drink. He wondered how much she drank. "You're not a drunk, are you?" he blurted. Amara spun to glare at him. "Gee, thanks for the sensitivity, appreciate it." She stomped down the steps and pulled out her phone. "There's a bar a couple of streets away."
Zayn pursed his lips, not really wanting to drink his problems away. He wanted a proper solution to the management problem, and he wanted to figure out what he should do. He'd invited Amara instead of the other boys because they wouldn't want either options. They're going to fight, but not everything can be fought.
"Let's forget the bar," Zayn suggested. "We can hang out at some other place."
Amara looked like a whiny child and she pocketed her phone. "No, I got it. We can grab your car and get going."
The car. Zayn made a face and grabbed her arm before she could cross the road. "Let's not."
Amara frowned, her eyes skimming his face. "Why'd you call me? Did something happen?"
"Nah, it was nothing."
"Something must have happened, you sounded angsty."
"You don't know me," Zayn defended, letting her arm go. "I was fine. I am fine. Just don't want a drink."
