When Worlds Combine - A WWC Sequel

1; Flashbacks, hesitation and traditions

"You need a hand?" Waliyha asks from beside me, motioning towards my luggage.

I smile and nod, mouthing a small 'thanks'. She picks up my duffel bag and walks towards Zayn. I stand watching them both interact, watching Zayn trip Waliyha up purposefully and Waliyha then throwing a threatening punch at his face. Their laughter fills the air and I swear the sun gets brighter due to their happiness.

Zayn and I had been staying with his family since January, and it was just like the two weeks Zayn and I spent for the wedding. Things were so good, so natural. Not to mention his family were ecstatic we were together - for real this time. Prior to that we had been staying with my parents at the country club, which they managed to keep due to my father sobering up, and that really didn't go well. I guess you can say that my parents didn't exactly love Zayn. Basically, they hated him. Zayn and I had planned to stay for the Christmas holidays, deciding it'd be the perfect opportunity for him to meet my parents and for them all to bond. We ended up staying for a week, leaving Christmas Eve. The week was torture, filled with my father constantly insulting Zayn, my mother constantly insulting me, Zayn trying so hard to get on their good side, me almost burning down the house trying to cook a chicken, my father and Zayn playing poker and Zayn beating him - which really didn't go down well, my mother and father fighting 24/7, and not to mention my mother saying to me, right in front of Zayn, "don't worry, honey, this relationship is only temporary. We all have these."

"You are unbelievable," I spit, glaring at my mother who's dressed in a new Chanel dress. "Do you hear yourself right now?"

 

"Well look at him, Violet. Does he look like he's going anywhere to you? I know you think you love him, but, darling, this is just a phase. Trust me. This boy is only going to keep you down. He's nothing."

It was a total nightmare; the worst thing to ever put your boyfriend through. I don't even know how many times I apologised to Zayn, but it still doesn't feel like enough. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting it. The whole car ride over I was as nervous as hell, so anxious to see what my parent's reaction to Zayn would be. But I also thought they would actually be civil. I've never been so mad, and Zayn constantly likes to bring it up; finding it the funniest thing ever. I'm glad he finds such hilarity in it all, because the week was horrible. My parents are horrible. It basically came down to one thing, if I didn't break up with Zayn than I would be disowned by them. Zayn and I left straight away.

But Christmas Day was, so far, the best day I've ever had. At about midnight, officially Christmas, Zayn and I were still on the road; listening to The Cranberries and sucking on Rhubarb and Custards, when the radio clock striked 12:00.

"Hey," Zayn says, breaking the comfortable silence we were currently in, the streetlights outside whizzing past us and blurring together.

 

I remove my head from it's resting position on my hand and tear my eyes from the window, focusing them on him. "Yeah?"

 

He turns to me and smiles, his teeth flashing and all. "Merry Christmas."

 

I smile back. "Merry Christmas, Zayn."

 

He takes one hand off the steering wheel and holds out his arm, and doing the best that I can with a seatbelt on and the gearshift in the way I move over and lean on his shoulder, feeling his arm come down around me. And he continues to drive with the lights all around us and "Zombie" playing on the small car radio.