𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 ( 𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 )

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

Zayn is sitting on the floor, near the window drawing yet another picture of the world outside. If he just sat on the window ledge he knows he could maybe have a better view but he can't risk being seen. Trevor was very particular about that. Zayn could not let anyone know he was in that house, he remembered the last time one of the neighbours had seen him at one of the windows and brought it up in conversation with Trevor later, Zayn couldn't move for weeks because of the beating that night. It wasn't always that bad, he was hit everyday but some days when he didn't do anything to flare Trevor's anger too badly it would just be a shove into a cabinet or a slap across the face. He dreaded the bad days however. The days when something at work might have angered Trevor and he was looking to blow off some steam or when Zayn had maybe done something to make him angry. Most days Zayn just hoped to fly under the radar. Escape wasn't an option either, he had no where to go. His family had died in a freak accident in their home when he was out on a date with Trevor. The entire house had burned down. Trevor had asked him to move in right away, he had been so thankful at the time.

He had met Trevor when he was still in high school and at 17 the very fact that a then 20 year old would be interested in him excited him. His parents never liked Trevor, they were really uncomfortable with their age gap but Zayn fell in love with him really fast and the first three years of their relationship were amazing. Trevor was always so kind and loving always mindful of his wishes and never pushing Zayn into anything he wasn't comfortable with.

That all changed however a month after Zayn moved in. It started with trying to control little things Zayn did like the amount of time he spent outside and at the time being so thankful to Trevor for letting him into his home he obliged with his wishes however over time it just got worse, it escalated to Trevor basically locking him in the house when he went to work and the only time he was allowed out was when he was with him. The physical abuse started almost at the same time, the first time it happened Zayn wasn't actually sure what had happened. He had been basically ordered to not leave the house and have dinner ready by the time Trevor got back from work, Zayn did the best he could. He had never been the best cook but a couple of YouTube videos later he had managed a lasagne and it would have all worked out perfectly if he hadn't messed up with the proportion of the salt. He had put too much in and it seemed to have pushed Trevor off the rails he had thrown the glass container at the wall right by Zayn's head where it shattered. It left cuts on the right side of his face but Zayn was glad that after that Trevor never asked him to cook again but that meant that he spoke about how Zayn was basically a useless house guest even more and guilt tripped Zayn enough to the point that he almost thought he deserved how he was being treated for not being able to help out around the house. He did think that if he would have been allowed to finish university he would have had a job and would be bringing in money to the house. But he had been almost forbidden to attend classes and with no attendance he was eventually taken out of the programme that he had a full scholarship for.

Zayn preferred not to think about how his life got to the point it was at, he knew despite Trevor's mind games that this wasn't a positive situation and he had so many bruises all over his body both old and new that somedays when he went to bed he wished he wouldn't wake up the next day but Trevor was going to be back in a few hours and Zayn was not going to think about him when he wasn't there.

Although not being allowed any interactions with the outside world Zayn was allowed a phone but he was to never text or call or email anyone, Trevor paid his phone bills and he could very easily tell. But that did mean that despite having no real contact with the outside world he knew what was going on outside. He watched the world go by from inside this prison he was trapped in like he was watching a movie about a far away land, a land that he wasn't a part of, a land better that the one he inhabited. He loved this land.
He also kept up with all the new music, he didn't have a particular genre he preferred. He just loved how songs and their lyrics provided a form of escape for him. He had a favourite artist though. Harry Styles. There was something about his raspy voice singing those heavily 80s inspired songs with an almost rock edge to it that got him everytime. Harry knew his way around his craft, he was amazing at what he did. Not to mention he looked dreamy. It felt ridiculous to Zayn, the idea that he possibly had a celebrity crush but that was probably what this was and it made him happy. Harry's voice, his songs, their lyrics and his general demeanor calmed Zayn and made him happy. Well whatever happiness was at this point. He didn't really remember what that felt like.

Harry, a cup of coffee without Trevor's overwhelming presence, his freedom to have his own friends and someone to talk to, his painting degree were all a part of this other life he might have had if he hadn't met his boyfriend when he was 17. He remembered the boy he used to be, never the loudest but boisterous around the group of people he trusted. He remembered being so innocent and full of life once, excited for the possibilities growing up held for him. He couldn't wait, to get out and see what the world outside the safe laps of his parents' home was like. He had places he had wanted to see and notebooks full of scribbled out dreams. Those notebooks along with the life he had and the life he had dreamed of seemed to burn down with his house and the rest of his family that night.

He felt a tear drop down his cheek onto the page of his sketchbook which brought him out of his reverie, he looked down to see that his thoughts had effected what he was putting down on paper, that although in all technicality what he had drawn was the street outside or whatever he could see of it, it was darker. The way he had used his pencil made the tone of the picture seem darker than what Zayn had intended. The street seemed to be shrouded in an irrevocable darkness that seemed relentless and showed no signs of lifting, there was a sorrow to the work and Zayn hated it. He tore out the page, balling it and throwing it into the bin as he made his way into the kitchen looking into the fridge to see if he could maybe find anything to eat. He hadn't eaten since he'd gotten out of bed and it was way past noon now. He usually pretended to sleep in even though he usually woke up before Trevor, by sleeping in he escaped waking up to a punch to the gut.

He settled for an apple, he would be eating when Trever got home anyway and he didn't want to be too full cause if he didn't eat the beating was going to be even worse. He takes his apple and settles into the couch near the same window he had just been sketching in front of, he sat here as much as he could. He didn't have the freedom to be out there on his own but his mind could wander.

Fifteen minutes later he heard the door to the apartment being unlocked, he quickly made his way to the kitchen to throw away the pit of the apple. It was time to face whatever was coming to him today, Trevor was home.