“Zayn…Zayn Malik!” The English Literature teacher’s sharp call came like a sudden loud noise to Zayn’s mind, and Zayn quickly shot up in his chair and looked up at the middle aged female like a deer in the headlights.
The female teacher looked over her sixth form student with a slight frown, her grey eyes looking down at him from behind her small spectacles. It always startled him when the teachers would suddenly snap at him. It happened fairly often, although he didn’t understand why. His hand closed around the black pen in his hand that he had been doodling a couple of birds with, as if to protect it, as the teacher stared down at him.
“Would you pay attention, please? If you won’t contribute to my lessons then you may as well listen.” She spoke up once more, before readjusting the glasses on her nose.
He gave a small nod, hoping that she hadn’t noticed his notepad that was wide open on the desk. When she looked back to the year twelve A Level group, he thought that she must have not have seen it. He did sit a few tables away from the front. She started to talk once again about something or other, and for a few moments Zayn watched her as she walked up and down a little, a habit that he had picked up in his English Teacher’s behaviour. His brown eyes seemed to pick up more than what the others picked up.
He glanced around the class, firstly glancing at the two boys closest to him. He was unsure of their names, but he knew the ginger one spoke with a slow, gravelly voice that never failed to capture his ear's attention. It made Zayn smile to hear it. Sometimes when he was upset during an English class, he’d hope that the boy would raise his hand to answer a question for the teacher, so that Zayn could hear the way his words would come out in a slow, accidental poetry.
So far, his favourites words for the boy to say were ‘y’alright?’, ‘Shakespeare’ and then the odd ‘erms’ and ‘ums’ that he would speak mid sentence when put under pressure from the teacher. Zayn always noticed how his ginger hair fell in sloped ruffles, like a dog's ears.
The brunette boy next to him, only about an inch taller than the ginger, always had one habit, which would interest Zayn amazingly. Whenever the lesson went silent, there would be a slight tapping coming from the boys’ desk, and it was the brunette’s fingers tapping away on the desk in some perfect rhythm. Then it would change into another beat, and leave Zayn amused for ages after hearing the brunette drum his hand against the desk.
He had tried a few times to repeat the boys’ actions, but it never worked out well. The boy seemed to be able to do it almost subconsciously, which would sometimes earn him an elbow nudge from the ginger boy next to him. That would make Zayn have to resist the urge to chuckle.
The two boys that sat in front of him really were funny at times, but Zayn had no interest in making any kind of friendship with them. His mind wasn't clicked into the routine of stepping forward to talk to people; to engage. He had drawn them once, on a bad day, so that he would be reminded of the funny banter they would have, and it would cheer him up. That was as far as he had ever gone to growing close to the two boys.
Zayn didn’t understand other people. There were many reasons because of this, little things that he had picked up as he grew up around them, but the main reason was because none of the others ever seemed to like him. Zayn didn’t understand why he should talk to people that don’t talk to him. He didn’t really understand why he should talk at all, and that’s why he didn’t.
When he talked, he was just never understood, unless it was his Grandma. She was the only one who understood him, and that’s why she was his world. He thought about the cups of tea they would share and the cake she would make for them both as they talked after school, and he grew excited, his brown eyes glancing at the clock. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet, he still had a while to go until he could see his Grandma, or as he called her, his Nana.
The school bell suddenly rung out, signalling the end of lesson two, and the start of lesson three. Zayn smiled a little, knowing that he had art next. For his A Levels, he had taken English Literature and an Art BTEC. He loved drawing, and the teachers always said that he did really well in his work, even though for some reason they didn’t talk to him much. But who ever did?
Zayn stood up, his brown eyes secretly watching as the ginger boy started to sing really loudly into the brunette’s ear, before the small brunette growled and chased him out of the classroom. Zayn's brown eyes observed thae way that the two boys had carelessly lefted their chairs untucked in, the plastic seats pointing in opposite directions of the table.
He pulled his backpack over his shoulders, his nose scrunching when it settled uncomfortably on his shoulders. He adjusted it once more, before pulling his notepad into his arms. His notepad was only an A4 size, but it was stuffed with all sorts of drawings. There were the serious ones, like when Zayn sat outside in summer and found feathers or spring buds to draw out into the pristinely kept pages. They were also accompanied by the little silly ones, drawings of stick people on different planets, or in crazy outfits, anything to make himself happy, he drew. But then there were the scraps of paper with thick black scribbles on. They represented his bad days, and he didn’t like those ones.
Zayn made his way out of the classroom once he was satisfied he hadn’t left anything behind, and walked out into the bustling corridors of the Boys’ High School and Sixth Form that he went to in his hometown of Bradford. He’d lived here all his life, but he’d always wanted to be somewhere else. He’d see photos of all of these amazing places around the world. Sun kissed beaches that seemed to go on forever, huge mountains that were so high the tops couldn’t be seen, and then there were the huge cities, like New York, with so many cars and people it made Zayn’s eyes widen at the thought. One day, he was going to be free, and he was going to going to go all over the world, where he wouldn’t be told to stop drawing in the middle of lesson.
“Watch it!” A sudden shout came from his side. His shoulders flinched a little and he quickly looked up from his school shoes, even though it was too late. He collided with one of the more popular guys, one of the much taller, stronger popular guys. His head came into contact with the boys’ shoulder and Zayn soon found himself tripping over his own feet. He quickly regained his balance even though his glasses went flying from his face and landed on the floor by his feet. Zayn clutched his notepad with one hand to his chest, to protect his drawings as best he could, while he reached down with his free hand for his glasses.
“Christ, we need to put a bell on this kid.” The boy he had collided with suddenly spoke up; his voice deep and gruff as he grabbed the back of Zayn’s collar and yanked the boy onto his feet. Zayn gave a slight yelp, before he clung onto his notepad with both hands. He’d been in these situations before, and he doubted that this would ever be the last of them. His brown eyes looked up weakly at the three boys who were now circled around him, like vultures. He was an average height, but nothing on the tall Year Thirteen’s.
“Jesus, Grimmy, would you put the boy down?” Another voice spoke up, before Zayn’s chocolate brown eyes met a pair of emerald green ones. Zayn smiled a little but it faded quickly, once he realised that he had smiled.
“You’re in Year Thirteen. Time to grow up.” Harry Styles spoke confidently, as he ducked down to pick up Zayn’s black glasses before standing back up to his full height of 6ft. This could contend with the Year Thirteen’s.
‘Grimmy’, the boy holding onto Zayn’s school blazer collar immediately let him down and rolled his eyes. Zayn landed with another slight squeak, his nose scrunching up a little, but he soon realised the older boys were walking away from him. Harry remained, and stood opposite him holding out his glasses. Zayn slowly reached out and took them from Harry’s hand, his chocolate eyes observing every small detail on Harry’s face. The sparkling green eyes, almost being covered by a mass of chocolate brown curls, a couple of dimples that made a small smile pop up on Zayn’s face, which caused the lop-sided smile on Harry’s. Zayn liked Harry Styles, he was nice, and his eyes reminded him of the colour of one of his favourite crayons.
“All better.” Harry spoke with a small smile as Zayn took the glasses from his big hand and placed them over his face. Zayn smiled once again. Harry’s voice was deep, but had a hint of softness to it as well; Zayn liked it.
Harry then took that as his chance to walk away, and Zayn’s smile faded as he watched Harry walk off, ruffling up his hair once more as his long legs carried him to his next lesson. The sleeves of his blazer were rolled up to his elbows, and Zayn looked down at his own and pulled them with, giving a slight chuckle to himself, before he rushed off to his art lesson, his cheeks flushing pink.
Zayn urged his feet forward when he finally saw that Harry Styles was stood on his own in the lunch queue, a tray in one hand, the other showing himself the time on the bright blue watch that was strapped around his wrist. Zayn smiled at the watch, and made a mental note to draw one. It looked so cool…everything about Harry Styles was cool, but he just didn’t know how cool he was. He travelled across the lunch hall, trying to pretend that the younger years weren’t staring at him like they always did, before he reached Harry. He swallowed hard, as Harry’s face turned around to face him.
Harry frowned a little due to the sudden presence of Zayn Malik, but smiled all the same. The two boys stood in silence for a minute, and Harry frowned a little once more. He’d been through primary school and high school with Zayn, and even though they had never been close, they’d always kind of ‘known each other’. Harry didn’t tend to tell people that though, unless it came up in conversation. Harry had always been a little wary of Zayn, he just seemed different, but he just never knew why. Another moment passed, and Harry was about to open his mouth to ask if Zayn was okay when he got the shock of his life.
“Can I draw you?”
The words fell from Zayn’s lips, his voice fairly deep, but cheerful all the same, a slight croak to it. Harry’s eyes went wide in shock. The empty plastic dinner tray fell from his hands, making the others in the queue behind him look at him in annoyance before they pushed past him. Zayn looked down at the tray and quickly ducked down to pick it up before he stood up again, holding the tray out to Harry with a wide smile, like how Harry had picked up his glasses moments earlier.
“Did you…huh?” Harry spoke up, a hell of a confused frown stuck on his face. Harry’s mind was swimming with sudden thoughts about Zayn. Zayn Malik couldn’t speak…he’s never spoken in his life, and yet he just spoke to me? He just couldn’t process it. He’d been through primary and secondary school with him, yet in their first year of sixth form he finally spoke, and to Harry no less.
Zayn’s face fell, as he suddenly felt like he had done something wrong. He bit onto his bottom lip. This was why he didn’t talk, because people gave him terrible looks, or worse. He didn’t understand why people were like this. He wanted to run away and wish that he had never spoken to Harry. He started to push the tray into Harry’s hands urgently, trying not to squeak as he did so. Harry must have noticed Zayn’s sudden change of mood, because he shook himself and looked at Zayn apologetically.
“Sorry, don’t, don’t worry, it’s just, I thought you were mute.” Harry spoke softly, trying to calm the boy down whilst not attracting much attention to them. Thankfully, Zayn was on the same page. He stayed quiet and shrugged a little. His big brown eyes were sad now, and Harry felt bad for how he had reacted.
“Ermm…what was it you wanted to do? Draw me?” Harry asked. He found it so hard to not sound so creeped out by Zayn’s request. He barely knew the guy, yet he had just asked to draw him. Harry tried to keep how uncomfortable he was about this on the inside, constantly forcing a small smile on his face. Zayn’s smile lightened up a little, but he shook his head this time. Harry frowned a little, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a little.
“Yes you do…you just asked me!” Harry teased, as he realised once again that Zayn had spoken. Zayn’s face really lightened up now, and his big brown eyes sparkled a little bit. Harry couldn’t help but observe how childlike the boy was…maybe that’s what made him so different?
“Well, if you want to draw me, you can. I guess that’s okay.” Harry heard himself speak, feeling sorry for the boy.
He was starting to piece together how Zayn was a person, his behaviours that he had shown over the years, and Harry felt stupid for not realising how something must have been different for Zayn then for everyone else. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, so even though he felt extremely weird about being drawn by a guy who had only spoken to him for the first time in years a moment ago, he decided that maybe it would make the other boy happy.
Zayn’s face lit up and he passed Harry the lunch tray with an excited smile. Harry smiled himself, finding the other boys’ antics quite cute. Zayn tilted his head to the side, and Harry took it as some sort of gesture that the boy was going to leave now. Harry nodded to him and sent him another small smile, raising his hand to wave to the boy a little, before he watched Zayn Malik walk off with a slight spring in his step.
Harry’s green eyes watched until he was fully out of sight, before he turned around and jumped back into the lunch line, knowing that his friends will quiz him about what the hell had just happened the minute he reached back to their lunch table. He gave a slight sigh, before continuing where he had left off.
When the school bell rang out later that day to signal that lunch was over and it was time for registration and lesson four, Harry told his friends that he would see them soon enough, before making his way to his locker. His last two lessons of the day were double business studies, so he figured that he would get his textbooks from his locker before registration, so he could go straight to lesson from form without having to pick up his books on the way through. The teacher was always moaning about how he was always late to lessons enough as it was.
When he reached his locker, he dipped his hands into his blazer pockets and rooted around until he found his locker key. He brought the small silver key, attached to his spare house key and various key rings, out and opened his locker, wondering what his business class would be learning about today. He opened the door and a folded over piece of drawing paper flew out. Harry had attempted to catch it, but failed due to his lack of any hand to eye coordination, and so resulted in picking it up from the floor.
As he stood back up and looked over it in his hands, his green eyes recognised that it didn’t look like any of his notes, and it also looked like it had been slipped under the locker door very carefully. He frowned a little before he slowly opened it, only to be met with one of the best drawings he had ever seen in his life. His green eyes took in every pencil sketching, every highlight and shadow, every line and curve. It was of himself, and it was so realistic it made Harry gorm out for a moment as he looked at it. There was bold bubble writing at the top, and he read how it said, ‘I drew you.’ with a load of comic book like clouds and explosions around it.
Harry frowned once more when he realised who it must have been from, and he slowly looked up in realisation. Different or not, the boy was an amazing artist. From the corner of Harry’s eyes, he saw a figure stood on the other side of the lockers, watching him in anticipation. He slowly looked up to see the boy in question looking over at him with a small smile. Harry smiled widely at him and showed the drawing of to him a little. He was about to go over to him and tell him how amazing it was, but Zayn Malik gave a slight shrug and smile, before he turned around slowly and walked towards his next lesson. Harry watched him go, in absolute fascination of him.
A/N: Not going to lie, but I am so nervous to put this up. I know nothing I write will ever meet the standards of Irresistible, but, I will write this nevertheless. I hope you all enjoy it, thank you all. :)<3
Cover on the side by @TheStarsKissTheNight, how lovely of her!:D<3