Collision (Zayn Malik FanFic)

Part One

Zayn's Pov

I was sat outside on the step at my parent's house in Bradford. Everything was royally fucked. My break up with Gigi happened months ago and she's in a happy relationship. To say I felt like a loser was the biggest understatement. I flicked the cigarette and walked back inside, shivering.

My dad was standing in the lounge with one hand on his hip. And a bag of cocaine held up for everyone to see. My sisters looked terrified and so did my mother. Fuck.

"Zayn. I am sick of this. I'm sick of it. How much more can I endure with you???" he bellowed

"Dad it's not mine. Legit" I lied

"Bullshit. I can't deal with this anymore and neither can your mother. You're tanking your life and spiraling out of control." He wasn't wrong. I was a mess. I struggled with anxiety and I couldn't perform. I regretted leaving the band and I recieved so much online hate when I broke up with Perrie which murdered my self esteem. Gigi left me and had moved on. The boys were doing well without me. I was alone. It was shite

I broke down sobbing in my hands when my dad walked over to me. "son. You started all of this at a too young age. Let's go to Pakistan for abit. Gather your bearings." he suggested.

"no dad. Everyone already treats me like a pariah over there. I'm not the world's best Muslim and they're not liberal at all" I argued.

"fine. Then rehab it is. I will speak to your assistant" my father concluded angrily.
I didn't have a drug or drinking problem. I just needed an escape sometimes. Why couldnt anyone understand that??

"I'm leaving. I'm going back to New York tonight" I challenged my father. He didn't like being challenged

"go. Go back to New York and then I am done with you son. You've put your mother and i through enough. You overdosed twice in the last three years. I don't care about the implications that had with the media or your career zayn! We've already lost you. So there's no point. Just go " my father's eyes filled with tears.

" Zayn. We are trying. Meet us half way lad. Please " my mum spoke to me and her voice broke my heart. I loved my parents. Damn it why was I being so fucked up.

That night I went to bed without eating. My older sister knocked on my door twice before opening it. She had a little tray with samoosas and some tea.

"go to Pakistan for abit zainy. It'll do you good." she said before walking out.

***

The next morning I woke up to my parents arguing. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes I walked downstairs.
"what's going on?" I asked my little sister Safaa.
"Dad told Kaseem chachu about your... Issues... And mum is losing it" she laughed

Kaseem was my uncle. He lived in Pakistan but moved to South Africa in his twenties and had set up a very successful business there. I've never been there, but he often visited me on his business trips to America and UK.

"Relax mum. Kaseem chachu is like a second father to me" I said as my mother yelled. I didn't mind him knowing about what was going on.

"How would you feel about staying with him for abit, Zayn?" my father asked

"Dad I'm a grown fucking man. Why do I need to be living with someone????" I fumed.
"Because all this shit has gone to your head and we need to bring you down to Earth. So you're going to stay with Kaseem! You will assist him where needed. And you will find a new sense of clarity and purpose" he yelled

Typical bloody Pakistani fashion. Sending your kids away to hell to go get clarity. I wanted to argue but honestly. What was the point? I'm over caring anyway. I spend my days locked away getting high or drinking. Sleeping with random girls whose names I don't even remember. Living alone in my mansion drove me crazy. The simplicity of life was gone. I hate the fame. I hate the media. I hate everything.

" How will I live there dad? Media issues? Paps... " I worried about that alot. Every move I made ended up in The Sun..

"your team and I will sort that out. You sort yourself out" said dad.

*****
Three weeks later, I touched down at King Shaka International Airport. It was a long flight and I was tired. When I stepped out of the airport, there were no paparazzi and no fans jumping all over me. Everyone seemed to be in a rush, sorting themselves out going through their day. One of my uncle's staff had picked me up. His name was Jabulani and his accent was really funny but he seemed like a great guy. He had no idea who I was. I was just Zayn, Kaseems nephew. I liked that.

The drive to La Lucia was 20 minutes. My uncles house was beautiful, Situated in a scenic neighborhood. The weather here was beautiful. Jabulani parked the car and I thanked him and walked to the house. There was no doorbell so I knocked, and the door was opened by my older cousin, Jahiem.

"zayn it's so bloody good to see you" he gushed, enveloping me in a hug.
Soon I was bombarded by my aunt and cousins, squeezing me and hugging me, pinching my cheeks and just generally showering me with love. Gosh. Family. Nothing beats the feeling. They didn't care that I was a mega musician who drank abit too much. All they cared about was me.

"I see you haven't gotten over your tattoo crap" my cousin Saliha said, hitting me over the head. I pulled on her hijaab and she swatted my hand before jumping into my arms.

"Missed you yaar" she said.

" you must be exhausted. Go wash up and we will have some lunch" my chachi, who was my uncle kaseem's wife.

My luggage was already in my bedroom. I went to the ensuite and took a shower before joining my family. Walking down the stairs, I collided with someone I didn't recognize

"shit, sorry" the husky voice said. I looked down at her. She was tiny, barely 5 feet, with fair skin and these super brown eyes that matched her brown hair.
She was beautiful in the most unconventional way. Individually, her features were too much, her nose was slighty crooked, her eyes were too brown, he lips too big, her face a bit too chubby. But when you put them all together, it seemed like changing anything just wouldn't make sense. In the street, I wouldn't look at her twice. But there was something about her face that drew me in. Kinda like art. The weirdest pieces make you feel something. And I was intrigued by her face. My gaze went down to her body. Her breasts were too big for her tiny frame, and she had a chubby little tummy underneath her black faded pink floyd shirt. Her hips were a soft curve and her thighs were big her short legs. And yet, I found her desirable.  The entertainment industry standards would have deemed her fat. But here she was,  in front of me and all I could do was find her absolutely fucking desirable. I found myself wondering if she was a cousin that I had forgotten about.

"oh Zayn, I see you've met Jahiem's wife", Saliha laughed

Wife? Oh shit!