Escapade » z.m

49. I Hurt My Foot Real Bad And Thrice

Lucas woke up to the sound of books falling, followed by a string of curses spewing from Zayn's mouth.

He pushed the blanket down his face and blinked in darkness. There was still some time for the dawn to break, the room was pitched and damp from the chill. The drawn curtain of the window fluttered in the wind, although Lucas wasn’t sure why.

He propped himself on his elbows and looked around. The table lamp was switched on, books and papers were scattered on the desk. He found Zayn sitting on the edge of his bed, clutching his foot with a grimace on his face.

"What’s wrong?" Lucas asked, his voice groggy. He looked at the window again, the cold air sending chills on his exposed skin. He suddenly realised it was open. He blinked hard to adjust to the dim light in the dorm. "What’s with this?"

Zayn turned around to look at him. He crossed his legs, one hand still clutching his foot. "Go back to sleep, Luke." He waved his hand dismissively. "Its really early."

Lucas coughed, and sat up straight, slumping against the headboard. "What are you doing up, are you alright?" Zayn was massaging his foot now, or what it seemed he was doing in the apparent light. Lucas pulled the blanket to cover his chest and arms, glancing at the window again. "Why’s the window open?"

Zayn stayed quiet. He stretched his leg and circled his foot in the air, when it seemed alright he got up and limped across Lucas’ bed to draw the curtain open. It revealed an unhinged window, hanging precariously by one hinge Zayn definitely seemed to have struggled with.

"Alright, alright, I get it, close the curtain, I’m dying." Lucas said, covering himself more with the blanket. He heard a strangled laugh from Zayn as he limped back to bed. "What happened?"

"There must have been a blizzard."

"Overnight?" Lucas asked looking over at Zayn, and shuddered.

Zayn shrugged. "Seems so. It’s all white outside."

"Is that what woke you up?"

"No, I woke up on my own," Zayn said and went towards the desk. "Found it almost falling off." He said. He placed a pencil between the pages and closed the book, sinking down in the chair. He looked over to Lucas and scratched his cheek.

"I don’t think it was that aggressive, otherwise we would have woken up. I think George would have come up, yeah? Must have been the old age of this window to be honest, everything is so old here." He laughed. "That’s why George keeps shouting about the door. It’s going to come off too."

Lucas laughed loudly, and pulled the blanket above himself again. He was shivering from the cold, his teeth almost clattering.

"Should I get you something?" Zayn asked with concern. He started to get up, "Wait, I’ll get you another—"

"Zayn, they wouldn’t be dried yet." Lucas whined, like it was someone else’s fault. "I washed them last night."

Zayn looked squarely at Lucas, "You washed them?" He asked, already bracing himself to yell. He saw Lucas nod and groaned out loud. "Are you a gone case, Luke? I have told you so many times not to pile your laundry that way! You washed all of them together?"

"Yeah!"

"What ‘Yeah!’," Zayn glared at him, getting up to get to the closet. "Nothing to be proud of. Now, did you wash all of your clothes or just the woollen ones?"

"Just the woollen ones."

"Alright." Zayn said forcefully and entered the closet door. "You take mine today. That’s a good thing though, you learned a lesson, manage your laundry better next time." He came out limping, throwing a grey jumper at Lucas’ face.