rough draft || z.m

11.0

ROSIE.

“Oh my goodness…” I marveled at the absolutely gigantic canvas propped up against Zayn’s wall. 

“What do y’think? Too much?” There was plenty of humor in his tone and I found myself laughing. 

“People are going to think you’re crazy, Zayn.”

“D’you think m’crazy?” 

“No. I think that’s the most flattering thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Yeah?” His golden eyes were hopeful and endearing.

“Very serious, yes. Quite the romantic, you are.” He shrugged and stepped forward, pulling me back against his chest as his arms wound around my waist.

“I try.” I sighed contentedly as his lips brushed against my jaw. That was my spot and no one had ever caused chills to run down my spine the way Zayn just had. “So…” He pulled his face away slightly but his arms stayed hooked around my stomach, and then he yawned and it was absolutely freaking cute.

“Am I boring, Mr. Malik?”

“M’yeah.” His laugh was nice—refreshing. “No, no, m’only joking, love. Just really tired. Didn’t get much sleep.” As they say, yawns are contagious and I was quickly following his actions. 

“Bikram yoga makes me sleepy.” 

“Oh yeah, Harry always naps after he does it.” I stifled a laugh at the thought of the tall, slightly awkward and lanky boy in the plough pose.

“Maybe we should nap then? Rest a bit before you cook, what I’m hoping will be a fantastic meal?”

“Sounds quite nice, yeah.” He led me over to the bed in the corner of the loft and fell down on the large mattress. “C’mon, s’cozy, I swear.” I joined him and he put the really soft and fuzzy blanket over the two of us. “Comfy?”

“Very.” I smiled and laid on my side so we were face to face.

“Good.” We laid there for a bit, just looking at each other and as awkward as it might have seemed to be, it wasn’t. Not at all, actually. 

“Why won’t you tell the media the truth about Perrie?” This question had been festering inside my head since the night in the hotel, the visit he’d made to my room after the interview. “I’m sorry…I don’t know why I asked that…I just—why are you protecting her?” He remained quiet, studying the ceiling for a good twenty seconds.

“I know how harsh the media can be…I also know how harsh the fans can be. As angry as I am and as hurt as I am…I could never find it in me to cause her that kind of pain. M’not gonna justify it and be all, like, ‘oh she made a mistake, we all make mistakes’ no. M’not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive her for it, to be honest. But I refuse to stoop down to that. It’s like throwing her into a pit of wolves and m’not that kinda person, y’know? Don’t ever want to be. “

“You’d never take her back?” I couldn’t help how fragile and meek my voice sounded and he must’ve noticed, because he scooted closer and cupped my face with one of his hands.

“She’s not the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Can’t even begin to imagine what that would’ve been like…gives me chills, really, to think, like, I almost married her.” I watched his face contort uneasily. “S’just weird.”

“Well, everything happens for a reason, I suppose.”

“I’d like to think so, yeah.” He sighed. “I feel like…meeting you…s’kinda like a sign that, dunno, like, things are lookin’ up and since I’ve known you, Rosie, it’s been good. V’been happy, do y’know what I mean?”