“Mum…please come downstairs, it’s Christmas Eve.” Zayn asked, as he sat next to his Mother’s bed. His Mother gave a groan from the bed. She’d had another turn, she was getting bad mood swings and her temper was a ticking time bomb.
When Zayn had told Liam and Niall about his relationship with Harry, they’d been accepting about it, and through the last few months, they’d been just as accepting. They supported their relationship, and Zayn even managed to get them all in the same room for an hour or so. Niall and Liam had enjoyed Harry’s company, once they had gotten over the fact that their English teacher was beating them on Fifa, but Zayn hadn’t been happier. His friends and his boyfriend were getting along, but more importantly, his sisters absolutely adored Harry, which meant that the four of them were constantly hanging out at Harry’s house together. They couldn’t go out, or do anything in the public’s eye in case they ever got caught. It was hard trying to remember the fact that Harry was still his teacher. But still, Zayn refused to complain, he was happy, and he wanted to keep it that way, even if his family life was starting to loop back into it’s old ways.
Zayn tugged at the small tubs of pills that were in his Mother’s hands.
“Mum, please!” Zayn begged, trying to stop his Mother from taking anymore. Recently, this had become yet another regular occurrence. Hiding pills, getting rid of pills, and most importantly, forcing them out of his Mother’s hands when she was desperately on edge for them was just another day for him now. But, today was Christmas Eve. The girls were downstairs singing along to a Christmas film on TV while they wrote out letters for Santa, he wanted their Mother to stop being like this and come downstairs, it must have been bad for the baby that she was carrying, but she seemed to have forgotten all about it in her need for pills.
“Zayn Jawaad Malik.” She snapped, batting his hands away from hers and sitting upwards in bed, her eyes glowing with anger. Zayn looked up at his Mother and had to admit he was slightly frightened. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot, her face fairly pale. She looked so much older than she really was.
“It’s Christmas, Mum. Please come downstairs!” Zayn begged her once again, but she looked down at him angrily.
“I’m not well, Zayn, I need rest!” She hissed down at him, and he sat up more and looked at her in outrage.
“You’ve been resting since October! You only think you need rest, but you don’t! Think of the baby, when was the last time you did anything positive for the baby?” Zayn snapped. He couldn’t believe this, he was trying to look after his Mother, like he had done for years and this is the payment he got back. Prising pills from her hands on Christmas Eve. His Mother looked down at him angrily, and the next thing that he knew was the intense stinging sensation that was now located on his cheek. He hissed in pain as he raised his hand to his cheek in pain. He looked up at his Mother in shock. His Mother had never, ever, raised a hand to him, even in the worst of her mood swings. His mother’s dark eyes looked down at him with worry and sadness bottled up inside of them and it appeared that she had probably shocked herself from her own sudden actions. It seemed that they were both trying to process what she had just done, and both struggling with it. Zayn gave a sniff and edged backwards from the bed. He no longer felt wanted or comfortable in his Mother’s presence.
“Zayn…when I say I’m not well, I’m not well.” His Mother told him, her voice coming out shaken, yet harsh. Her hands were shaking, making the small tubs of pills in her hands rattle as well. The rattling of the pills seemed to echo around the bedroom, and the sound was now added into the small space in the back of his mind where the sickening crack of when she had been punched by her Father now dominated.
“You…you slapped me. You know how much Dad hits and beats me and yet you just do it too…on fucking Christmas Eve?” Zayn let out in shock and anger, not really understanding why there were tears flowing over his eyes. His mother stayed quiet and simply stared at him with a painful expression.
“He can’t help his behaviour, Zayn, he can’t help it.” His Mother spoke with a straight face, almost like there was someone forcing a gun into the back of her head, forcing her to speak those words. Zayn wiped away some of his tears and let out a strangled laugh.
“You’re sticking up for him? After what he’s done to you, to me, to the girls, and you’re sticking up for him?” Zayn snapped, his fists shaking from the anger that was now starting to fill his body. He felt like a shaken up coca cola bottle. He just needed one more little thing, and that would be it, he’d explode. He started to take long breaths to control it, but as he looked up at his Mother, he couldn’t.
“He threw me onto a coffee table in front of his own, seven year old daughter, and you’re still sticking up for him? He broke your fucking nose when you told him you were pregnant! He’s living with some other woman on the other side of town, and you’re still trying to play happy families?” Zayn started to break down and cry, yelling out everything to his Mother. Even in her condition, his Mother swivelled out of her bed and leaned over and hit Zayn around the back of his head once again, her other hand holding her huge tummy.
“Be quiet, and get out! Get out, right now, I don’t want to see your face, Christmas or no bloody Christmas! Talking to me like that in my condition, get out!” She hissed at him, pushing and ushering him towards the door.
“I don’t want to be here! I hate this place, and I fucking hate you, I hope you really get sick, so you know how easy you really have it, Mum!” Zayn spat, before he got to his feet and stormed from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
He rushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, before slowly falling down it. His lanky body curled up, bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. He rested his head against the door and squeezed his eyes shut, the rattling seeming to get louder inside of his head, almost to the extreme that all he wanted to do was bash his head against the side of the bathtub to make it stop. At this moment in time, that seemed so tempting. His chocolate eyes opened and slowly brought his gaze to it.
Would it really make it all go away?
He looked on at it, before something else caught his eyes. He looked up to the medicine cabinet that was on one of the bathroom walls. The small door to it was open a jar, and through that he could see the small, brown tub. His bottom lip was trembling as his shaken hands reached up for the edge of the sink. He pulled himself up to his feet. His body felt so numb, but for some reason, there was a strange thought in his head that made him want to reach out to the little brown tub. And so, he did. He slowly opened the cabinet and grabbed hold of the tub, rattling it slightly to hear the sound of the small pills inside it shake around inside of it. He leant against the sink, and slowly opened the top of the tub before looking down at the small, blue pills. He didn’t know what they were, or what they did, but he wanted to know what made them so damn addicting for his Mother.
Without any second thought, he poured three of them out of the tub and into his hand before downing them in one go. He gave a slight cough as he swallowed the pills down, and felt as they stung the inside of his throat. His hands shook even more when he realised what he had just done.
“Oh God…” He whispered to himself, falling onto his knees with a loud thump, his hands still shaking slightly. His eyes grew watery again when his Mother’s words started to swim around his conscience once more, but he blocked them out. He threw the tub to one side and watched as the small blue pills spread out along the bathroom floor before he forced himself up and out of the bathroom. The minute he opened the door, he was met by Waliyha’s tiny face looking up at him with wide, brown eyes.
“Is Mummy not coming downstairs?” She asked quietly, and Zayn looked down at her for a moment.
“No. Mummy’s not. We’re going to Harry’s house for Christmas, go and pack a bag for you and your sister, there’s a good girl.” Zayn told her, and watched as Waliyha nodded. She would be happy to go to Harry’s, but Zayn could see how upset she was by her Mother not wanting to see her children on Christmas.
Waliyha went off into her bedroom and Zayn watched her, before closing the bathroom door shut behind him and walking to his own bedroom. He grabbed a duffle bag from under his bed, and put it onto his bed, before shoving in some pyjamas and clothes, and most importantly his hair products, before he reached under his bed, listening carefully to the sound of what his sister’s were doing, before he brought out a couple of plastic bags that were filled with the only presents that he could afford for his sisters. They only had five or sic presents each, and they weren’t exactly iPods or iMacs for that matter, but what else could he afford? Nothing, that’s what. He was a waste of a brother.
He shoved them into the bottom of the duffle bag, before he pulled on a jacket and slipped one of his pairs of trainers on. He was in jogging bottoms, but had a plain white shirt on, with a plaid shirt on top of that as well as one of his varsity jackets. He sent a text to Harry before slipping his phone into his pocket and pulling the duffle bag over his shoulder, before getting his sister’s ready to leave.
“Harry!” Safaa yelled happily once Harry had opened the front door. Harry cheered and quickly swooped Safaa up happily.
“Ah, if it’s not my three favourite people in the world staying for Christmas! Come in before it starts snowing…” Harry laughed, moving to one side and letting them all through. Safaa wriggled down from Harry’s grip and both girls ran off in search of Dusty, yelling the cats’ name out for all of the neighbourhood to hear. Harry watched them go with a wide smile before he looked back at Zayn and the smile faded.
“What happened? I thought you were spending Christmas with your Mum?” Harry asked, his voice now remotely lower. Zayn closed his eyes and shook his head, her words flowing back to him.
“Don’t, just, just don’t. I don’t want to talk about her or it or anything.” Zayn whispered desperately, before he gave another sniff. It was so hard to pretend to be happy big brother Zayn when inside he was screaming and crying. Harry looked at him in concern and brought Zayn’s body towards him.
“Shush…c’mere. You’re with me now, Z, it’s okay. You go have a lay down, I’ll keep an eye on the girls, okay?” Harry told him, and Zayn nodded his head and placed a weak kiss onto Harry’s lips. Harry looked over his face with a slight frown.
“Z…you look different, like more…I don’t know.” Harry asked quietly in concern and Zayn gave a shrug.
“I took a few pills. I wanted to see why my Mum is so addicted to them, I don’t get why.” Zayn mumbled, as Harry’s face started to grow blurrier, and his head grew more dizzy.
“Zayn, oh God, Zayn!” Harry hissed, and Zayn didn’t realise that he had fallen until he was lying in Harry’s strong arms. Harry steadied him once more with panic and concern in his eyes.
“I’m okay!” Zayn quickly spoke up, shaking his head in an attempt to wake himself up. He felt like he was drunk. Harry scoffed and shook his head, still holding Zayn up.
“Girls, Dusty’s in the kitchen!” Harry yelled up the stairs, before he watched as the two girls quickly ran down the stairs excitedly and into the kitchen. Once the girls were there, Harry swept Zayn’s body into his arms and carried him up the stairs in a bridal fashion, before laying Zayn’s body onto their bed.
“Just sleep all of this off, I’ll be downstairs when you wake up.” Harry whispered, and Zayn’s eyes closed immediately, and he felt how Harry was pulling his layers of coats off as well as his shoes. But his head had hit the pillow, and his body shut down quicker then he could wish Harry goodnight.
A/N:To anyone who thought that this fic ended, it hasn't, I'm afraid! You haven't seen anything yet... ;)