'Cold water'- Major Lazer (ft Justin Bieber, MØ)
Unedited
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Zayn looked left and right; checking for any incoming person or car. It was a side street and a relatively busy one at that. Once he was satisfied that there were nothing, he slipped his rucksack off and slipped between two walls. This way he could reach the abandoned underground station through the back entrance; the front one had been used for the new overground station built above.
The walls finally ended; he went round to the back to a dark blue rusty door and pounded on it in three knocks in a quick succession then four evenly spaced out ones, a special code so they knew who was outside. The door was opened by the Mexican revert - Rafe. He'd resorted to coming here some times as he lived on his own over here and was short on money.
"Salam, bro. Took ya long enough. Several other fellas have announced they want to compete with him cuz he pissed them off that much." he told Zayn. Today his hair was styled in cornrows; his hairstyle alternated from a man bun to different styles of braids.
"Walaikumasalam. You gave me such short notice anyways'" Zayn replied.
He dumped his bag in the corner and slipped his shirt and shoes off. A thick crowd had gathered around the raised platform in the centre, which had one guy on it. He was tall with many tattoos snaking across his arms and torso, his blond hair slicked back from his face. He was moving about and shouting into the rowdy crowd while they tossed in pound notes inside the ring, his side tings going around and collecting them for him. If Zayn won the fight, he'd get all that money and the money the people bet on him, if Zayn lost then the blond chap would take everything.
He walked ahead, squeezing through the crowd until he reached the platform. He swung up over it and landed softly on his feet. The crowd looked at him in surprise- they hadn't expected a such young man. The referee came up and started speaking,
"Today we have Zayn and Vinnie. If you bet for Zayn, place it in the blue box, and red for Vinnie. All profit will be given to the winner. There's no rules at the moment. You may begin."
Both quickly wrapped their hands and wore fingerless gloves. Zayn wavered, feeling that gaze yet again. What if they exposed him? Told the police?
"Nervous?" taunted Vinnie.
"Never, fuckface," Zayn retorted.
Vinnie had been known be to be involved in prostitution. Forced prostitution. But Zayn had no evidence of his acts, so no going to the police yet. What he did do was basically cause a scene at the brothel, something, just like any distractions so maybe the police could come - but looked like he had them in his pocket. A few girls managed to escape every time he did this, so he never stopped - but he had to be creative, not doing the same thing once. It wasn't the best way to help, but currently his only way, and then Rafe followed them up for a bit to ensure they didn't get taken again. So Zayn would definitely enjoy reconstructing blondy's face over here. Zayn was positive some of the girls who were collecting his money earlier were from there - he could tell by the badly hidden bruises.
Vinnie was confident he would win; that gave Zayn the advantage of surprising him. He circled Zayn, jumping about - Zayn was thankful Vinnie had tired himself out a little already as Zayn's knees were still a bit injured from his last fight. Vinnie had the advantage of weight and being older, but Zayn was much taller and more nimble, plus being younger gave him more stamina. He couldn't wait to give this motherfucker a taste of his own medicine.
Vinnie surged forward, throwing vicious punches which Zayn easily blocked. He tried grabbing Zayn's hair, but one kick to his side got him off. Zayn let him do what he want for now; like a cat letting a mouse toy with it before it attacked.
Soon his breaths were shallower, his stamina decreasing. How old was this guy to be getting tired that quick? Zayn guessed late twenties - he probably smoked a lot or something. His moves were now floppy, his steps heavy. But Zayn had just begun.
Zayn suddenly striked back, avoiding his face for now while dealing damage to his body. The stupid fvcker stayed upright because of his ego, even knowing if he fell to the ground after a bit the fight would stop and he wouldn't have as many injuries. Zayn didn't care - it gave him more time to wreck him up. Blow after blow, he was now using the support of the railings to keep him upright; his left arm unable to move after Zayn kicked it hard from his shoulder. Now for his face. Zayn went for his nose and chin, the 'knock-out' parts of the face. He was no longer supporting himself; his supporters in the crowd pushing him up.
Zayn heard a loud whistle - Rafe telling him to calm his shit. He didn't wanna cause too many serious injuries - he and his men would then go after Zayn and he couldn't risk them finding and hurting his family or friends instead.
He stood in the middle, breathing almost back to normal again. His hair tousled, his neck slightly sweaty from the stuffy air. Normally he'd be drenched in his sweat, but he hadn't needed to exert himself in this fight.
His skin prickled with that sensation again. He knew who it was. He turned and looked right at the corner she had hidden herself, behind the stacks of crates. He had, however weirdly, smelt her when he exited the alleyway earlier as she'd been hiding in the gap of the wall when he ran out, he'd been less than a foot away from her. And also from the way his body reacted when he felt that burning gaze.
He met those eyes of hers, staring and unblinking. She defiantly stared back, not scared or judgmental the way he thought she'd be. She met his stare head on. He was angry - no, livid - that she had come, but he just stood there watching her, remembering he'd fought this for her. He didn't even care that his secret was revealed, he was going to tell her, but she didn't realise how dangerous it was for her to be here and it made it worse that she wasn't even aware of that.
Because he remembered she was one of the girls that had escaped. He remember watching Vinnie's men keep her in a basement, and he had went and unlocked it, only briefly meeting her eyes as she had run out.
He knew exactly who she was.
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Zayn snapped back to reality; someone would see her there and he needed her safe and sound before that. He ran and got dressed, grabbing his belongings to turn and run to her to already find her behind him.
He stared for a moment, at a loss for words. She didn't realise how dangerous of a crowd this was; the things they indulged in; he was outta here the moment his fight ended. She looked back, worry creasing her face until he saw she was looking at his face - one of him men tried to have a go but was held back, not before he had dealt Zayn a punch in the face with a heavily ringed hand. It stung like a bitch.
"Let me treat it, Zayn," she whispered. Fvck, the way she said his name was going to be his undoing.
"Later, right now we gotta go." he replied urgently.
" No it'll get infected. Now that we're here there's no harm in staying a little longer. Sit." she ordered.
He sat, debating on whether to speak. Syra took off her bag and brought out a first aid kit, pulling on gloves. She brought a few things and came up to Zayn.
"This will sting a bit," she whispered. Zayn nodded, unable to talk because of her close proximity.
She gently dabbed around the cut with some alcohol, leaving it stinging. She carefully wiped the cut, before using thin white medical tape to cover it till it scabbed. She cut little little strips so she could cross the over each other. Satisfied with her work, she moved his hair back in place over it, eliciting a soft sigh from him. He'd shut his eyes during the whole thing, not wanting to look at her. He inhaled deeply, that motherfucking lavender scent the drove him crazy filling his nostrils. She stepped back and put everything away and Zayn cleared his mind, remembering where they were.
"You know who he is," he stated, watching her delicate hands put her things back.
"I - yes. How'd you know?" She looked up from packing her stuff away, startled.
He remained silent, hoping she'd take the hint.
Guess not.
"Wait were you involved -" she started. Zayn cut her off,
"Definitely not. God, why'd you assume that? No I was aware of what he did, but mans got so much backup I can't just waltz into the police station and tell them with no proof. I'd also be baiting myself out-" he gestured around them, "-bruh. I'm the one who causes those little inconveniences so the girls can escape - not all get the chance, but it's the best shot I got atm -" he was interrupted by Syra.
"And you were the guy who busted me out the basement. I kinda knew I'd seen your eyes before. And I - I'm so sorry assumed you had a part to play - I just went on defensive mode. It was stupid, why else would you be up against him. Ngl I was nervous it'd turn out in his favour - he looked so much older and you looked - uhm, errr.. you know what, never mind. I'll stop rambling,"
"No, no, continue please. I wanna hear what you gon say," he replied, grinning. He really did want to know what she thought he looked like.
"Uhm, it's irrelevant. Don't worry," she laughed nervously, wringing her hands.
"Naaa, love, you gotta finish what you gon say," he teased her laughing.
"Nooo. And you can't make me," she shot back defiantly.
I would actually but it's haram, he thought. Out loud he replied,
"Hmmm, I can think of a few ways, but I'm giving you a chance to give in," he continued their banter. He stared right into those darn eyes, lost in the fiery emerald gaze.
"Oh really. Whatchu gon do, Zayn?" she crossed her arms, staring at him with her eyebrows raised. God, her being sassy was so damn attractive. He didn't answer straight away.
He stood up, walked up to her till they were only a few feet apart. He crossed his arms behind his back and looked down at her, smirking, cocking an eyebrow. She craned her head up to look up at him, and the sight almost unravelled him. God really blessed me by partnering us together, popped up in his mind.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, speaking lowly, not once breaking eye contact.
The playful atmosphere dissipated; the tension that had been there from their first encounter rose. It felt as if they were treading in a dangerous territory, although they weren't even touching or up in each other's personal space.
"I think I'd like to," she whispered, looking up at him with her brows slightly furrowed as she looked back up at him intently.
Fml am I dreaming this shit? If I am I'd sleep forever. Shit I sound like such a god damn simp.
"Are you sure? What if you don't like what you find?" his stare intensifying.
He was sure his eyes were burning with emotion, with passion. Syra's face was unreadable; she was observing him. He could feel the air crackling between them. He finally understood why love was described using depictions of fire and burning; he could feel the thrum in his veins; he could cut the tension between them with a knife.
"I think I'll be the judge of that-" she begun to answer him after a few moments of silence before someone just had to choose the perfect timing to interrupt.
"Zayn, bro, sorry to interfere with your love life but both of you gotta move," said a voice.
Both turned to see Rafe leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. His face seemed to say, I ain't judging right now but you won't appreciate my restraint soon.
"Right. Let's go Syra," he stepped back and motioned for her to walk with him.
They were on the opposite side to the exit, so they had to go through the crowd. Rafe handed Zayn his pile of cash encased in an envelope, Zayn quickly stuffed it into his rucksack. Zayn looked up to see Syra had stopped walking and was eyeing the crowd. He was about to ask her till he looked to see a big rowdy crowd of mostly grown men - you could tell by their appearance and mannerisms that they were most likely involved in dodgy shit. He sighed, knowing what he was going to have to do.
"Syra." She turned to look at him.
"That's the only accessible exit so the only way is to go through the crowd. So you're going to have to trust me and..." he trailed off, explaining it with his eyes.
Syra nodded, understanding that he was saying he'd have to touch her. Even he was dreading walking through. (In Islam, unrelated men and women cannot physically touch each other or be alone in each other's presence - they're supposed to remain strictly professional).
Zayn slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his left side. They set off, walking towards the crowd. Zayn used his right side to shoulder through the crowd, checking back to make sure no one was groping Syra or her belongings. Syra clutched at his arm with one hand and her bag strap with the other. He had to admit, he enjoyed this way too much, and he felt bad about it as Syra was feeling uncomfortable.
The pair reached the exit, but he didn't let go of her, nor did she object. He yanked the door open and marched outside, only letting her go once the door shut.
They turned to each other, breathing hard. Because of simply walking through the crowd or because they were in the vicinity of each other - something neither wanted to dwell on, not that it was of much use. They looked away, trying to regulate their breathing.
"Zayn we really got to talk," Syra broke the silence.
She awaited his reply, peering at at him, still panting. Zayn wanted to grab her and crush his lips down on hers so badly. Ya Allah give me sabr (patience). He looked at the floor and replied to her,
"You free on Thursday evening? I've got community service tomorrow and another fight on Wednesday. And Friday I've got guests."
"Sure,"
"I'll take you to the main road, kay?"
She nodded and they set off, this time ensuring they kept their distance. Both were too exhausted to speak as they ignored the growing tension between. It felt they crossed into a new territory today - she found out something he'd tried so hard to hide. He wasn't even angry though - rather his pride shot up at the fact that she went out her way to follow him.
Thursday they'd chat to each other without the fear of other people. And maybe they could find a solution for this thing between them.
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Late that night, while Zayn hit ready for bed, a thought came back to him. He'd been thinking of how love was described using fire and burning.
Love.
He hadn't even confessed his feelings to her, even if they were so obvious and he wasn't putting much effort to hide them either, yet he's thinking about how he loves her? Did he, though? Did he love her? He didn't even know if he did, he'd never even looked in a girls direction before.
He groaned into his pillow; he couldn't sleep even though he was exhausted; his thoughts were swallowed up with her.
His Syra.
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Guyssss I was legit smiling my head off while writing this. I legit cannot wait till I write more about their relationship. Fml they're so cute I can't.
2780 words.