Scars (Ziam)

Highs and Lows

"I can't afford it," I said quietly, focusing on my shoes that were inches away from his own. I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me, and I closed my eyes for a moment, ready for some hostile comment that someone like Jaden would give in reply.

"How much do you need?" He asked, and I opened my eyes, wanting to look up at him in confusion, but I didn't dare lift my head. There was no point in showing my face to him. It was a mistake to ever show him the damage, and I planned to never do t again. Not for him, not for anyone.

"It doesn't matter. I have to go home," I excused, trying to brush passed him, but he reached out for my arm and spoke again.

"I can help. My uncle pays me for helping around the café at times. I have some extra cash," He offered, but I shook my head automatically. Having him help me would mean establishing some type of trust-- which I never established. I didn't trust him nor anyone else. I didn't want a friendship with him. I just wanted to be alone.

"No," I declined, trying to pull my arm away, and it was surprisingly easy. Zayn didn't have a strong grip on me. It was rather light, as if he allowed me to choose if I wanted to stay or go. It was a loose grip that wouldn't have forced me to stay in the first place. It was unusual.

"I have to get home," I repeated, and he hummed in reply.

"Liam, be honest, do you have food at home?" Zayn asked, and I felt myself grow a bit angry. He had no right to ask about my home life or assume such a thing. But I knew my anger was irrational and his question was completely rational. What else would someone assume if a person didn't buy food because they said they couldn't afford it?

"Yes. I do," I said. Of course we had food. I just really wanted to cook a good meal for my family. I wanted to show Ruth how much I appreciated her, and I wanted my dad to know that I was sorry for how I treated him earlier. However, I would not take money from Zayn to do so. I didn't know him, and I didn't want to know him.

"Okay," He accepted after a while, and then he walked back over to where his cart was waiting. "Need a ride home?" He questioned.

Truthfully speaking, a ride home would have been great because I was already running late. I had to make dinner for my family and at least pretend I was doing homework before they came home. However, I would never even dream of giving Zayn my address. The last thing I needed was someone who was as nice as him to know where I lived. I didn't fancy unexpected visitors.

"No. I'll be fine. Um, have a good night," I said, and I had no clue why I said it. I guess it was because, at the end of the day, Zayn was nice to me. He even offered to help me buy some food. It was more than anyone in this town, besides my family, has ever done for me since the accident.

I could just hear the smile in his voice as he said, "Thanks. I hope you have a good night as well."

I stood there for a moment longer, waiting, staring down at the tiles and waiting to hear the familiar sound of a cart being pushed away, the squeaking of he wheels breaking off in the distance, but it never came. It seemed as if Zayn was waiting for me to leave, just as I was waiting for him to leave, as well.

"Um, I'm going to... go now," I voiced, feeling a bit foolish as I said it, but Zayn only gave out a breathy laugh. It didn't sound like he was laughing at me, and that was new. It sounded as if he was laughing out of endearment, if that even made sense.

"Alright. See you around, Liam," He offered, and I turned away, making my way down the aisle before hearing Zayn call my name again. I froze for a moment, not lifting my head at all, and he said, "Next time you come to the café, you're getting everything on the house. Who knows? Maybe you can even bring your family."