Escapade » z.m

22. I Talk To My Friend's Mother

He dreamed again.

Only this time, it wasn't just his mom, or the ghost of his dad talking to him in low whispers. His mom wasn't touching him, or caressing his cheek.

They were there, standing. But, they were abstract.

It was weird, if nothing else.

The only things he was sure that actually existed, were the woods. And the sky above him.
It had been ages since he allowed himself to gaze at the endless blue. He longed to, but didn't.

Somehow, George was there, too. It was weird, because he was riding Gemma's scooter.

Everything was so strange, and yet, it made complete sense to him.

The fast raps on the door woke Zayn from his sleep. He groaned and picked up the phone from the night table.

It wasn't his phone, but he needed to check the time.

It was only 6 a.m, he blinked, narrowing his eyes at the door from where the knocks weren't stopping.

"Shut up..." He groaned again, and pushed away his duvet. He rolled over and rubbed his eyes, not feeling like getting up yet.

His dream was shredding away as his surroundings differed from that of his dream, and it wasn't long before he forgot everything.

He looked over at Lucas, who was completely enshrouded in the blanket, and let out an exasperated sigh, that resembled terribly like a whimper.

Yawning, he finally sat up, stretching his limbs. The floor was eerily cold today, his feet immediately wanted the comfort of his duvet.

Another knock came, louder than the previous ones, and he walked to the door and unlocked it before anyone could knock it off it's hinges completely.

George stood in the doorway, smiling at Zayn when the door stood ajar.

"Good morning, lad." He chirped. "I'm here to wake you up."

Zayn rubbed his palm over his face and breathed deeply, "Really? I thought I'm still in bed."

"You aren't audible, dear."

"I said," Zayn leaned onto the door frame. "I said nothing." He cleared his throat, his voice was groggy. George seemed like he had had an energy drink first thing is the morning.

Whereas, Zayn felt drained, even after a good amount of sleep.

He wanted to look more presentable, and less lost, for a change. It seemed like every time George saw him, he was either tired, or sleeping, or simply wanted to slump wherever he could.

"Well, I'll go and wake the other blokes." said George. "Don't go back to sleep, and wake up the other lad snoring there.." He nudged, looking past his shoulder.

Zayn looked over his shoulder too, and chuckled lightly. "I'll wake him up." He said, gripping the doorknob.

"Okay, then." said George and turned away.

Zayn closed the door behind him, leaning against it for some time. He closed his eyes, listening to the faint singing of the morning birds.

A lot had changed in the past week.
So many things.

He hadn't acknowledged any one of them. And it was on purpose. It was too much, for anyone, not just him.

It was good to let things be, and not let it sink in as yet. He had met new people, it was time he caught up to new things rather than wasting time acknowledging what he left behind.