'Step On Up' - Ariana Grande (Blackout Version)
Unedited
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Later on, as he helped his fifteen year old sister Zaina set the table for dinner, he tried to ignore a certain pair of emerald eyes flashing through his mind. He wanted to please her, he didn't know why - he had just met her. But why did he feel as if his heart recognised her , subconsciously. Around her his restlessness disappeared. He was confused how you can meet someone, practically ignore each other for the next few hours you were together and get such vibes from them.
He was so baffled and lost in thought that he didn't notice his brother enter and ended up spilling the jug of water he was carrying onto him. He looked up to see who was the victim. Zakaria. Great.
Zayn always clashed with this particular brother - he didn't know what caused this tension between them. He simply put it down him being 2 years older as one tends to clash with those similar in age. Okay and he put it down to the sudden increase in testosterone. He remember his brother got aggressive during his teens, and then Zayn followed not long after, turning them from close siblings to avoiding each other. Ever since Zakaria had moved in with his wife, Javairia, it was easier. But now that they had their little 2 month old son, Nuh, his visits frequented and Zayn wanted to spend time with his new nephew - he wouldn't sabotage a relationship because of another failed one.
"You little cunt. I bet you've been waiting to do that since last week," Zakaria, referring to when he snitched on Zayn when he caught the latter sneaking in at 2 am. Zayn didn't even want to know what he was doing there at that time.
"Is that how your mind works? Being petty? Finding revenge. Great example for your son. No I simply didn't see you, you twat. You could've announced your arrival lol by greeting us aloud." replied Zayn, too exhausted to argue.
"I don't have time for your shît," Zakaria huffed
"Bìtch I don't care. Move along. Better if you don't even drag ur sorry ass here. Pussio." Zayn shot back.
"Zayn Bhai, Zakaria Bhai," Zaina nodded, addressing each of them as she walked out the kitchen to the dining room, "Please stop. Please. You guys just carry on till it gets physical. Everyone's tired of your squabbling. You guys were legit like , I dunno, besties and now you can't even be in the same room without conflict. Zakaria Bhai, Ammi was calling you in the living room and Zayn Bhai, Aboo was calling you out in the garden." she spoke with a tight look to her face.
(Brother), (Mum), (Dad)
Zayn knew it scared the shit outta her when people fought in front of her, so he wasn't even going to fight his brother. Both brothers departed to either parents, making sure to leave through separate doors.
Their younger brother Zayan ,who was fourteen, walked into the dining room, tutting after watching the whole ordeal. Before they'd just shove each other but now they threw insults back and forth till one of them exploded and then, oh Lord, one would surely break some bones trying to diffuse the fight. It upset him, he could no longer approach either, they were so angry all the time.
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Outside with his father in the darkening sky, Zayn crossed his garden to sit with his father on the sofa-swing. His father looked younger for someone who was only 47. His thick salt and pepper hair stood up straight. His tan skin held few wrinkles; his thick and coarse 2 inches long. His posture was always something he focused on - he carried all 6"3 of him proudly and nagged his children if they were to slouch in the slightest. However, as of lately his steel coloured eyes looked washed of their colour, the same eyes Zayn had. Zayn knew his father was stressed; he was like a clone of his father; from their mannerisms to their personality and appearance. He cleared his throat and stood infront of his father who's eyes were closed.
"Aboo, aap nai mujhe bolaiya thaa?" (Dad, you called for me?)
"Yes beta, take a seat. I needed to talk to you."
"Yes, Aboo?"
"Look Zayn, I never interfered with your relationships with your siblings, I often leave that to your mother, as you guys tend to confide in her more, naturally. But this petty intolerance you and Zakaria have, needs to stop. Bas. Enough is enough. I don't know what cause this - do you two even know what cause this? Hmm? After dinner come in my office; and tell your brother as well. Abhi to challo, khana tandha hojae ga"
(Enough) (Let's go right now, the food will get cold).
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"I don't know. Aboo I really don't. Over time we spoke less and less and then we had to force ourselves to tolerate each other and now, obviously, that's become quite mushkil." spoke Zakaria. (Difficult).
They had eaten dinner, Zayn even cleared the table and washed the dishes to try and prevent the talk, but one swat from his mother sent him going to fetch his brother to go to their fathers office.
"Zayn I said to speak up. Do not just sit there. Ta poheegee?" (Do you understand?)
"Za poheegum," (I understand). Zayn took a deep breath and spoke,
"He just got angry. Unapproachable. And I, well, I didn't approach him as I didn't want him to take his anger out on me. And then I, you know, changed. I got intimidated by that. Didn't like it. Eventually got sick of avoiding it and forcing myself to endure it, which brings us here. I don't know, really. I'm not saying it's all his fault, but like, this is my point of view,"
He was being honest. He really didn't know what the fvck lead them to be like this. He could barely get his own shit together so his frail relationships weren't his priority right now. There. He admitted it. His family wasn't a priority for him at the moment. Yes, he loved them, would give anything to ensure their comfort and safety, but that was it. He didn't spend time with them, but he wasn't embarrassed of them, like most teenage boys. No he just wasn't so experienced in this department. What are you supposed to do? Chat to them? He wasn't one for unnecessary chatter. His family knew that. He'd just sit for a bit before he made himself scarce.
Zayn deep down wanted to spend time with them, to laugh with them, to feel the warmth and comfort of his family's affection. But he seemed to be given into his toxic masculinity. Tough love, from a distance. Play the role of a protector, that's it. He knew it was wrong because he wasn't raised like that. His family were close-knit, so all this distance was taking a toll on everyone. The only time they say each other was at dinner - even that was becoming less frequent. And when their other older siblings visited with their children, about every week.
"It's not like you don't disrespect me. It hurts my ego a lot more, being older, even if it a mere two years. You need to relax. Don't think we haven't notice your lack of enthusiasm for everything. You legit force yourself to carry out your routine. I gave you space, just like everyone in this family, so you can find yourself, pick yourself up. But naaaaa, big man don't see that, he sees us as a burden. And there's only so much we're gonna tolerate your bakwaas. And I'm tired. Soon everyone else will follow suit." burst out Zakaria. (None sense)
"I don't know what you're talking about," Maybe that wasn't the best answer he could've given but he didn't care as he wasn't ready to have this conversation now. He wanted his mum to be there and his brother gone.
"Yes you do. You know exactly. For some one who's a complete 'no nonsense' type of person, you sure are going against yourself. This conversation was inevitable - how much longer did you think you could hold it off, huh?"
"Listen here you-" Zayn started, enraged that his brother made him feel so transparent, before his father interrupted.
"Acha, bas. Is maslai ka haal sirf ye hai. Tum donno ab zyada wakht guzaro gai ek donno ke saat. The garage needs fixing so from now on, whenever you are able to come over Zakaria, you two will work together to fix that. Tum donno bhai ho - kya aisai hona chaye hai apna bhen bhai ke saat, apnay koi rishtidaar ke saat? I'm tired of this, khatam karo isko. And Zayn, if you have not fixed up by Eid-ul-Adha, which is in roughly 3 weeks, tum phir dekhna tera kya haal karun ga." their father spoke, with a bit of finality in his voice, his exhaustion seeping through. Both had a lot of respect for their father so they inclined their heads and left the room.
(Okay, enough. The solution for this problem in only this. You two are now going to spend more time with each other ), (You two are brothers - is this how one should be with the sisters and brothers, with our relatives?), (Finish this finally), (The second Eid celebrated by Muslims, in the last month of the lunar calendar), (Then you'll see what I'll do to you).
Once outside, Zayn stopped outside in the hallway, his heart heavy. He couldn't help but sigh, closing his eyes as he fought back tears. He wouldn't cry infront his brother, no.
"I'm trying. I really -" his voice cracked, "I really am, kasmeh," whispered Zayn, after noticing Zakaria had stopped as well with his back to him. His brother turned and walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, knowing Zayn wouldn't open his eyes as tears would spill. (I swear).
"I know. We all are. But there's a limit, and you're nearing it. Strive for it," Zakaria consoled him, squeezing his shoulder and then walking off towards the sounds of his sons cries and his wife's cooing.
Zayn felt guilty at that. His brother and sister-in-law had planned children later on, but were still happy when they found out they were expecting. His brother worried for his wife, as she was only 18 and suffered a difficult pregnancy and then a C-section at 7 months. Nuh's health was frail at first, but he steadily grew healthier as the weeks passed.
Zayn took a deep breath, wiped his tears away and set off to pray Isha namaz. (Isha prayer: the last of the five prayers, prayed in the first third of the night, after the sky is fully dark).
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Tossing and turning on his bed, Zayn tried to find the right position so he could sleep. Zayan's snores kept him awake though; even after Zayn got up and pinched his nose - it normally worked but it seemed like Zayan had a runny nose so Zayn didn't bother waking him up, instead placed another blanket on him as even he could feel the chill.
He ended up picking up his phone, checking out some absolutely ridiculous tweets, pictures from Pinterest and Tumblr. He was avoiding Instagram - he'd been getting hella weird DM's even though he never posted anything, not even on his story. He gave in however, scrolling through his feed and tapping through the numerous stories - how on Earth did they find the time to put so many up? His Snapchat was hella dry though - he wasn't on the best of terms with his friends so he avoided watching their stories.
That left him with Tiktok; the best for the last. He was so addicted to this app he almost loathed it. It was toxic too, with all the feuds, the expectations and of course, the comments. He still went on it because he had nothing better to do.
After scrolling through for some time one video that came of his for you page caught his eye. It was a girl from his college - she was probably Arab or North African - she introduced her diverse friend group navies of the International Day, a few other girls, but he didn't care about them because one of them was Syra. He saw her friend has tagged a bunch of people in the caption, no doubt the other girls, so he clicked on each till her found Syra's @. Her bio told him this was her private account, so he went and followed her main one, which she had only posted a couple aesthetic videos about her fits. He thought it was too early to request for her private - heck, he didn't even know if she accepted guys, and with his account you could tell who he was, he just had no content.
In the second video which was under the first one he saw, the girls are seen teasing Syra about something who's telling them to shut up. She grabs her stuff and runs, looking back to laugh at them before she's off camera. Her friends suddenly gasped and picked up the phone, facing it towards Syra, who had run into a guy's arms, causing him to fall with her on top of him. That was him. God damn, he was staring at her as if he found some sort of treasure, like he couldn't comprehend it. Well fuck. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the school and his friends saw this. He was so screwed.
He watched the whole scene unfold from an outsider's perspective, wanting to kill himself after seeing the dumbfounded and infatuated look on his face. The tension was obvious between the two. Her friends squealed - he was surprised he hadn't heard them at the time.
"This gurl goes and runs into some guy's arms. A motherfucking gorgeous one at that. This is so cliche yet we shippppp. This bitch gon be interrogated after this day ends, so stay tuned for that!" spoke another girl with a short black bob. She had one grey-blue eye and one chocolate brown.
His ego shot up upon hearing that. He thought himself average looking - not ugly but not devastatingly handsome or anything. He was aware he could pass for good looking but his personality put people off, and also the fact that he looked rather intimidating and unapproachable. It wasn't like that though, that was his normal resting face. Kind of like the 'resting bitch face' aka rbf thing that was going around Tiktok.
He was bout to check if her friends had posted anything else about him and Syra - the way girls went into so much detail and read into legit everything left him vexed, confused and amazed all at the same time - before he heard footsteps approaching, so he quickly shut his phone and pretended to be asleep. The door opened a moment later.
"Zayn, beta, I know you are awake. Go to sleep now - it's 2 in the morning and you need to wake up for Fajr and college in a few hours. Meray betai, tum kya apni halat karai ho?" whispered Ammi. (Dear), (Fajr is one of the the five daily prayers just before dawn), (My son, what are you doing to your state?)
Zayn had no reply for that. Ammi simply sighed before closing the door. Not long after, he'd drifted into a fitful slumber.
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So I've found a good way to find English to Urdu translations, but I'm struggling to find a good website for Pashto. I only found a couple of phrases which I used: 'Ta poheegee' and 'Za poheegum' which means 'Do you understand' & 'I understand' according to one kinda dodgy website, however I don't know if the are correct or how accurate they are, so I thought I just might add it here, so if you do speak Pashto you can correct me if I'm wrong.
2690 words.