One Direction Preferences

Zayn - He breaks something of yours

I’ll be back in a second, just need to check something outside.” Zayn tells me seconds before we’re ready to start our movie night.

I nod and walk to the living room to set up our blankets and things.

A few minutes later, Zayn’s not yet back.
I walk in the direction of the back door where Zayn stepped out, and that’s when I smell it.

Smoke.

Not something burning, but cigarette smoke.

Tears of frustration immediately start stinging my eyes and I reluctantly pry open the door to find Zayn leaning against the wall, a cigarette in between his lips.

“I thought you stopped…” I say, my voice cracking at every other word.

I can tell I caught him by surprise but he does nothing to change what he was doing, only shaking his head at me.

“Why didn’t you stop?” I whisper, standing next to him as he still blows puffs of smoke out his lungs.

“I tried, okay? But everything is so stressful and I couldn’t handle it anymore.” He says and a tear rolls down my cheek.

“You could’ve came and talked to me… Maybe I could’ve helped.” I tell him but he shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t understand.” He mumbles, finally killing the cigarette he was smoking, only to reach for another one.

“No. Please stop, Zayn. Talk to me.” I tell him, reaching to grab the cigarette but his hand snaps up and grabs my wrist.

“Don’t you dare. I didn’t tell you what is stressing me out, because it’s you. You stress me out. Your always so clingy and trying to get into my business and I’m stressed because if I even set a foot wrong, you’re mad at me. Happy now?” Zayn says, not realizing the tears streaming down my face.

He lets go of my wrist, sort of throwing it down, and I immediately clutch my wrist to my chest.

Knowing very little about medical things, I can still tell my right hand is broken.

“What now?” Zayn asks, finally noticing my tears.

“I think you broke my wrist, but don’t worry, I’ll call someone else to take me to the hospital so I don’t stress you out.” I say, watching his face drop.

“Are you serious?” he asks in disbelief and I nod.

“My wrist doesn’t work the way you forced it to, Zayn.” I tell him and he immediately kills his second cigarette.

“Let’s go to the hospital then.” he says, placing a hand on the small of my back to guide me into the house.

“I’d rather go with someone else.” I tell him, reluctant to be in his company.

“Don’t be stupid. Let’s just get your wrist checked out and then you can be mad all you want when we’re done, okay?” he says and I’m in too much pain to bother fighting now.

“Fine. Just hurry. It fucking hurts.” I tell him through gritted teeth and he immediately reaches for his jacket, handing me mine.

“Zayn? I can’t exactly put on a jacket right now, can i?” I ask him, irritated by everything.

“Right. Sorry. I’ll just put it over your shoulder then.” he says and I nod, allowing him to place the jacket over my shoulders.

Minutes later we arrive at the hospital and Zayn won’t stop asking me how I am.

“Stop, Zayn. I’m not dying.” I finally snap and his face drops again.

“Sorry. I’m really sorry about your wrist though I didn’t mean to.” He tells me, genuine remorse apparent in his eyes.