EAT » [ziam]

nineteen

[Fire meet gasoline, burn with me tonight]

~**~

Three weeks had passed and Zayn was as voiceless as ever. Whenever Liam would wave or smile at him in the hallways, Zayn would just avoid him. He was trying to stay true to what he promised himself; he’d keep to himself, isolated from everyone. However, it was becoming harder and harder to avoid Liam, because he still had feelings for the boy, and the disappointment that flooded Liam’s face whenever Zayn would run away would make Zayn’s heart cringe. He wanted to trust Liam again, but he was afraid of heartbreak once again; he didn’t want a repeat of what happened the last time he got too attached to someone.

As for Luke and his friends, Zayn too was avoiding them. The betrayal was far too much for Zayn to even consider the thought of being friends with them again. If they got away with it once, they were bound to do it again if Zayn still associated with them.

Zayn’s next class of the day was Physical Education, one of the things he dreaded the most. He was uncomfortable dressing down in front of other boys, and their teacher, Mr. Sykes, was a running enthusiast who made the whole class run six laps around the track every day. Zayn was insecure about how his body looked to others while exercising, comparing himself to his peers. Like how some girls had massive gaps between their thighs, while his would brush against each other every so often.

He walks into the boys’ locker room, startled at how loud the area was. All of the boys inside were dressing down for class, some even straight up nude, proud of their defined bodies that took years to craft. Zayn blushes a red, embarrassed when a boy catches him staring at his bare body. The boy only smirks, flattered that someone was checking him out. His name was Alec Cook, a tall blonde footie player. Alec identified as straight, and anyone could see that by the way he’d snog his girlfriend Liza after each of his games, but he was one of this boys that found teasing gay guys amusing.

Zayn walks to his locker in the corner of the room, sits down on a bench and enters the combination of his lock. It opens and he reaches for the clothes inside. He then examines the area around him, waiting for everyone to leave. Zayn didn’t care if he was late for class as long as he could dress down alone. A few boys remain in the locker room, tying their shoes and applying some deodorant in case of body odor.

Finally, they all leave and Zayn dresses down. Throwing off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants to only put on a plain black tee and a pair of elastic shorts. He wore black because it made everything appear smaller, made him appear smaller. He decides not to change his sneakers, calling it good and heads out of the locker room.

He can hear Mr. Sykes loud booming voice from the gym down the hall, calling attendance. Zayn treads to the gym and takes a seat on the wooden floor in the back, a few stares hitting him on the way there.

“Malik?” he asks, a clipboard and pen in hand.

“Here,” mumbles Zayn.

“Malik, are you there?! Speak up!”

“Here,” he says in a louder and clearer voice.

“Well it’s about damn time. No need to sound like a wimp,” he sneers, calling the next student under the attendance list.

A few of his classmates chuckle quietly, one of them calling Zayn a ‘fag’. Zayn sighs and buries his face in his knees, used to the daily insults and teasing. At least it was better than at home where his father would tease Zayn for his weight. He could stand being made fun of for his sexuality, as he couldn’t change that, but when he was insulted for his own weight, it gave Zayn a sensibility of guilt, as it’s something he can change and have control over.