The Memory Jar [Zayn Malik]

Chapter 17: Discovering

            I can’t help but let my jaw drop in surprise and my eyes widen. This is what I’ve been dreaming about for these last couple months, for everything to come back and be the way it was before. This is it, I can finally be myself again, not just a broken puzzle of a person.

            As I spare a glance over at Zayn, I see he also looks surprised… yet scared at the same time, terrified even. When he notices me looking he instantly puts on the emotionless mask again, but I saw it there, I know it. 

            I don’t know what he’s so afraid of, maybe that things will get even more awkward between us if I remember completely. That’s believable, but something in my gut says it’s something else, something unexplainable. 

            He’s been a lot better lately, Zayn, in terms of his sanity level. He hasn’t been snapping at anyone as much or biting his nails as often (though the band-aids on his fingers help that). He’s just been Zayn, happy and angry and funny and moody all at once.

            At least when I’m not there. Whenever I walk into a room now the mood instantly changes. Like if Zayn’s smiling, it vanishes so quickly I almost think it wasn’t there at all. I’ve affected everyone for the worse now; just my presence alone changes everything.

            “It’s really excellent news, isn’t it?” Emma breaks me out of my thoughts, still doing her best to grin widely. 

            I can only clear my throat for a moment as Zayn sinks further back into the couch, almost as if he wants it to just swallow him whole. 

            “Fantastic news.”

            ~

            A bolt of pain shoots through my head as my eyes fly open. 

            “Holy-“ I groan, sitting up and pressing a hand to my temple. It feels as if someone took a hammer and swung at my skull, and sitting up so quickly sure didn’t help it. 

            I’m not sure if I should move, but then I remember Zayn saying that there’re different pills in the bathroom for pain. He always did go there when he was in one of his moods, and even more frequently lately, seeing as his attitude has become all but a moody tornado when I’m around. 

            Slowly, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as the movement causes another little burst of pain. 

            Just breathe through the pain, I mentally coach myself. The sooner you get to those pills, the sooner you’ll feel better. 

            Taking deep breaths and focusing on where I’m headed, I rise from the bed and pad slowly down the hall to the bathroom. I try to close the door while making as little noise as possible, so as not to wake any of the boys, before opening the medicine cabinet.

            I have to admit, I’m slightly surprised how many bottles there are. I never realized the boys have so many medical needs, especially to stay energized and maintain their physical image all the time.

            Slowly, I pick up bottle after bottle, squinting at the labels. But the longer I seem to try to read the bottles, the worse my headache gets, and the more I feel like I’m going to all but pass out from the pain. 

            Finally, much to my relief, I pick up a bottle and turn the label to see ‘Ibuprofen’ printed on it in bold letters. 

            It’s only for mild to moderate pain, but it’ll have to do for now, I don’t have time to stand here and pick out something better.