Turning Page (Zarry AU)

Chapter 1 - A Diary

If there is one thing Zayn hates it’s hurrying. He’s already pissed at himself for allowing his eyes to slip shut one more minute - which never actually is one minute - and then he forgets his wallet. There are bad days and then there are bad days.

Fast forward thirty minutes and he’s sprinting to catch his train back to London, because it’s Sunday and he’s got a class tomorrow and still needs to unpack his bag and- shit, the train is already there, looking like it’s about to leave. He pushes his legs forward like he’s trying to win the Olympics and jumps on board, almost knocking into a lady with a stroller – who even allows those in these cramped spaces? He tries to mutter an apology but all he can manage is a wheezing breath and a weak wave of his hand, feeling somewhat guilty when the woman scowls at him as he wanders off to find a seat. The journey is already long enough and he doesn’t want to spend it standing.

It’s strangely quiet and Zayn finds a nice enough seat by the window, no weird stains and no going backwards so he can actually look outside without feeling like someone’s stuffed his stomach in a washing machine. He plugs in his earphones to listen to some music because it’s easier. That way he wouldn’t have to feel bad about being so awkward when it comes to interacting with other human beings. Some people say it’s cute, but Zayn does not want to be the cute kid for the rest of his life. And he’s not even a kid anymore.   

He rests his feet on his duffel bag and allows his mind to wander as he looks at the passing scenery outside. It isn’t anything special and he’s already seen it so often that he closes his eyes, just for one moment-

‘’Oi, wake up!’’ Zayn wakes with a start, eyes flitting around to see people standing and lining up to exit the train. He looks to the person the voice belongs to, finding bright blue eyes that seem kind enough. Zayn takes a moment longer to notice the – probably dyed – blond hair poking out from underneath a snapback. That’s when he blushes and realises he should probably thank the guy.

‘’I, uh – Thanks for waking me up,’’ he stammers while he pushes himself to his feet and picks up his bag, cursing when his phone and earplugs crash on the floor – they had slipped out of his ears and landed up on his lap which he completely forgot about. He can hear a chuckle but he’s too disoriented to really think anything of it.

‘’’S alright, mate. Rough night?’’ the guy asks conversationally while Zayn follows him towards the end of the carriage.

‘’Not really. I’m just always falling asleep,’’ Zayn admits as they follow the stream of people onto the platform. He runs his hand through his hair and supresses a yawn, his jaw tensing from the effort. Zayn watches as the guy cracks a smile and shakes his head, turning his body away from him.

‘’Well, try not to fall asleep on public transport, yea? See ya ‘round,’’ he says, throwing his hand up in the air while he walks off and disappears into the crowd. Zayn stares after him for a second, still trying to wake up properly and thinking of his next steps. He feels groggy and his limbs are like dead weights. There’s a moment in which he just stands there looking stupid, people bumping into him, before he shakes his head and starts walking. He has to catch the tube back to his flat.

So there isn’t anything special about him, really. He’s just Zayn: uni student, brother, son, best friend and occasionally artist. If he feels like it. He nudges his way through the bustling crowds, earning a few glares here and there, but he doesn’t feel bad about it. Has to keep up his reputation as a troublesome youth. That’s what he looks like from the outside, at least. So what if he happens to like leather jackets, suggestive prints and looks like he’s afraid of colour? Appearance doesn’t say anything about a person, and he wishes other people would just understand that. It can work in his favour though, because when he takes a seat in the somewhat empty tube, nobody sits next to him.