Disclaimer: This was written over 10 years ago, and the author no longer agrees with many of the concepts found in this story. Some of the content will be cringey and/or problematic. Please remember this is entirely fictional and does not represent the author's beliefs.
Twitter: dazzleizzy
Copyright © 2012-2023
~~
Abby's POV
He pushes the little key into the lock of the old wooden door, and it creaks as he unlocks it.
After a bit of a struggle, he manages to push open the door. It creaks again as it moved - the sound of its disuse making itself prominent.
"Come in." He orders, and walks into the dark of the small ranch house. "There's a light here somewhere..." he trails off, moving out of my sight.
Struggling to see him in the dark, I hesitate to go inside.
"Abigail, I said to come in. You're going to get cold." His voice comes from ahead, but I can't see him.
I shift the weight of the grocery bags in my hands - he hadn't let me carry my own suitcases, insisting for me to just follow him inside. When I argued back, wanting to help out in some way, he finally agreed to let me bring in the things we'd purchased at Wal-Mart.
"Ahh, here it is." He says, and then the room is filled with a faded yellow light. He frowns when realizes I'm still standing just outside the door, and he motions for me to come in.
As I take a step inside, the floorboard creaks underneath my foot. Master Zayn sets the two suitcases down onto the ground, and then steps around me to shut the door.
I'm curiously taking in my surroundings - we were in a small entryway hallway, and the walls were wallpapered with vintage flower patterns, tearing at the edges. The floor was made of cherry hardwood, scratches scattering the wood.
"Give me those, follow me." He grabs the groceries from my hands before I could protest, and then turns around and walks away from me, not waiting to check if I was following. I sigh, and then pad my way behind him.
The miniature hallway lead to a open but modest living room, with a set of chestnut leather couches surrounding a middle coffee table. There was an old flat screen TV set, which looked untouched for at least a decade or so. The house was eerily quiet, except for the floorboards that moaned as we stepped on them.
"The kitchen is here." He says, and turns to the left. The kitchen is modest, but nice. It seemed well kept, even though I could tell it hadn't been used in years. There's a small microwave oven on top of the vinyl counter tops near stove, and I dare to take a cautious step inside.
Zayn steps to one of the empty counters, and sets the groceries down. "I think this should still be working." He speaks, his voice low as he approached the refrigerator.
Opening the door, a gust of cold air rushes out, and he nods to himself. "It still does."
"Let's put the stuff away, and then I can give you a tour of this place."
I agree by nodding my head silently,and step over to the counter where he'd set all the groceries we'd purchased. There wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the both of us well fed for the weekend. I grabbed the half gallon of almond milk and placed it inside the refrigerator, along with the steak cuts.
I looked over my shoulder to find Master Zayn placing the cereal box and chips bags into one of the shelves in the empty pantry.
"Here put that in the freezer, so it'll get cold faster." He commands softly, handing me the two liter bottle of Coca-Cola.
I take it from his hands and do as he says, and then walk up to counter again to bunch up all of the plastic bags together into one bag.
Two strong arms enclose around my waist from behind, pressing my stomach against the edge of the vinyl counter.
"Babe," he breathes into my ear, freezing me into place. I can feel my heart racing, and my breathing hitches.
The muscles in my stomach clench his hand moves up from my waist and skims over my abdomen. I am literally frozen in his hold, trapped in his captivating arms.
His lips press to my neck, not quite a kiss, and I let out a shaky laugh. He smirks against my shoulder when he notices the goosebumps raise on my skin, and his hands squeeze my hips.
He chuckles when I squirm under his touch, and I duck my head, embarrassed. He pulls away much too quickly, and I feel kind of empty and exposed without his warm embrace.
"Come. I want to show you the rooms." He says, and then tugs my hand, pulling me behind him. I follow him without resisting, my state too dazed by his intoxicating touch. I was intoxicated, off of his touch and his touch only, and his hand that closed around mine shot electricity though my body.
He leads us to a small hallway past the living room, where there are four doors. One of them is open; looking inside, I can see that it is a bathroom. He leads me to the door across the bathroom, and pulls the knob open.
Inside is a small, twin-sized bed, and there are a few toys thrown across the room. I'm curious at why there was a mess on the floor - because the entire house seemed abandoned. The bed is made, however, and the curtains are drawn.
Before I could ask any questions, he pulls me out of the bedroom and flicks off the light. The next door he brings me to is much larger than the other three, and he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes before he pushes the door open. I can tell there is something he's hiding, something that he's not telling me about this small ranch house, and it's worrying me. There's a look of nostalgia upon his features, but I didn't bring it up, only because I knew it would upset him.
"This...this is the master bedroom." His voice comes out hoarse, weak. There's a sudden mood swing, something in his brown eyes that I can't decipher.
He switches the light on, and I take in my surroundings. The walls of the room were covered in the same vintage wallpaper like the rest of the house, and there was a small queen sized bed in the middle of the room. Next to the bed on each side were nightstands, each with a small lamp on them.
There were picture frames of a middle-aged couple, and I frowned. "Does someone live here?" I asked him, confused. I'd gotten the impression that no one did actually live here because the whole house looked untouched, but these picture frames are making me rethink that.
"No." He says in a grave voice.
"Then who are those?" I approach the nightstand where one of the photos were, and just as I was about to grab hold of the picture frame, his hand stops me.
"Let's go see the other room." If I wasn't mistaken, his voice almost seemed laced with panic, making me scrunch up my eyebrows in confusion. If it weren't for that, I would've stood my ground and waited for him to answer, but instead, I let him take my hand and lead me out of the room.
The room right next to the master bedroom was closed, and the door was much smaller than the master bedroom's. Once again, he takes a deep breath before pushing the door open and stepping aside for me to see.
The room was painted a soft blue color, matching the untouched sheets on the twin-sized bed. I step inside the room, and look up to the ceiling fan. There was something about this room - I couldn't quite put a finger on it, though. Something - different. Not in a creepy way, but enough to stand out to me from the rest.
A heavily used rug was placed on the floor in the middle of the room, and I stepped over it to the side of the bed.
That's when my eyes fell upon the small picture frame on the wooden nightstand. There were two young boys, full, innocent grins on both of their faces. The obviously younger one's face had what looked like tomato sauce splattered across it, and the older one's finger was poking the smaller child's cheek. Brothers, they must be brothers.
I carefully picked up the frame, forgetting everything else around me, and sat down on the made bed. Something about this photo was strong and heavy - there was more meaning to it than just a first glance.
I glance up at Master Zayn. He's across the room, his back leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, watching me carefully. Looking back down at photo frame, there was a nagging feeling in the back of my head that I was missing something completely.
"Oh my god." I gasp, my voice low. With a burst of intuition, I came to a sudden realization. "This is you!" I pointed to the older brother in the picture. "It's you, isn't it?"
He pushes himself off the wall, and brings his arms behind his back. He doesn't nod or answer my question, but I can tell that my assumption is correct.
"But that means, you have a younger brother? Who?" Before I finish asking, I already figured out the answer to my own question. "Caleb." I breathe, and he finally nods.
"Surprised?" His voice is soft, as if reminiscing over old memories. He smiles, but I can tell that it's forced.
I set the photo frame down, and nod. "That means...this is your room?"
He nods and sighs, and then rubs the nape of his neck. My head is bursting with questions, but I don't know where to start. I decided to go with the one that seemed most important to him - the couple in the master bedroom. "That means...those are your parents? The couple in the other room?"
"I am sure you have a lot of questions," he starts, and I smile. He knows me too well. "But I ordered pizza that should be arriving in a bit, and then I'll explain everything to you over dinner. Is that okay?" He asks, unsure. I could feel the raw emotion rolling off him in waves.
It's so unlike him, this man that stood before me. He was emotional, unable to meet my eyes. He was asking if what he'd ordered for dinner was okay; he was offering to answer my questions. This man was almost unrecognizable to me, and I longed to comfort him.
Standing up, I walk over to him, closing the distance in between us. I bring my hands up to his neck, and then cup his face, meeting my eyes with his. Slowly, I press my lips to his.
He immediately responds, bringing his arms up and sitting his hands at my hips. The kiss is slow, and I can tell there's a lot on his mind by the way he's distracted.
Pulling away, I give him a reassuring smile. "That'd be perfect."
--
"Fucking took you long enough." I hear Master Zayn spit as he opened the front door to pay for the delivered pizza.
I grimace at the hostility he showed the pizza man, but I wasn't going to say anything. I knew he wasn't feeling okay with the weight of his parent's house being on his shoulders, so I continues to quietly set up a few paper plates and plastic cups onto the coffee table in the living room. When I'm done putting the napkins on the table as well, I make my way back to the kitchen to grab the Coca-Cola bottle from the freezer.
"Abby?" He calls when he doesn't find me.
"Coming." I answer, and close the door of the freezer.
When I step into the living room, Master Zayn wraps one arm around me and pulls me in for a peck before setting down the box of pizza from his other hand onto the coffee table. I set the bottle of coke down as well, and unscrew the cap. I pour the liquid into the plastic cups I'd set out earlier, and i notice that Zayn's opening the pizza box and setting out two slices of pizza onto both paper plates.
When everything is set, I hop onto the couch and Zayn sits down beside me, handing me a plate. I pass him over a cup, and he thanks me. When I take my first bite from the slice, he glances over to me nervously before clearing his throat. "So, what do you want to know?" He asks, and I pause my chewing.
"I can ask anything...?" I ask him cautiously. I don't want to mention anything that'll upset him or get him annoyed and close me off from more answers.
"Whatever you like, I won't answer if I don't want to."
"Okay," I nod. "So this is your house?"
"Parent's," He corrects me. "But I guess it's mine, now."
"What about Caleb?"
"He's my younger brother. He didn't want to take responsibility for the house after my parents, so I did."
I take another bite out of the pizza, and he takes a sip from his cup. "Your parents...where are they? How come they're not here, if this is their house?"
He tenses, and I immediately regret asking him this question - I should've waited until I got other answers from him.
But little did I know, he wanted someone to confide in more than anything else. "I don't know." He answers honestly.
"What do you mean?" I choose my words carefully.
"As in, I really don't know where they are." He says quietly.
"They abandoned the two of you?" I ask, concerned.
"No." He said defensively. "Of course not, they loved the two of us."
I'm still very confused, and he seems to notice, so he takes it upon himself to explain.
"My parents...they were kind of like you, in a way. They were kidnapped into slavery. Sold."
I suck in a surprised breath. "What? Really? What happened to the two of you? How did it happen?"
He chuckles darkly, and sets down his plate onto the coffee table. "One question at a time, babe." He exhales, and then continues. "They came in middle of the night. I don't remember much, though. I was fifteen at the time, and Caleb twelve."
"I was asleep in my room, and I remember waking up to a lot of noise. There was shouting, yelling, and I could hear my mother crying." Zayn looks away, not meeting my eyes. His voice is full of raw emotion, and so I let him continue. "She was begging them -those men - to let us be, to leave us alone. I snuck out of my room, I remember, and I peeked into the living room, making sure they couldn't see me."
He takes a long pause, as if struggling to continue speaking. "My father - he was on the ground, already unconscious, one of the men tying his hands behind his back. My mom was on her knees, begging them to stop, offering them what little money we had...and then the other man backhanded her, knocking her out as well."
Master Zayn's voice is thick with sorrow, and his eyes were red. His hand was clenched into a fist, turning the knuckles white. "And then they were gone."
"I'm sorr-" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"And I didn't do anything. I couldn't say anything, I couldn't help them. If I had, then maybe they woul-"
"No, Sir. Don't blame yourself. It isn't. Your faul-"
"But it is, Abby. It is my fault. I should've done something, tried harder. Anyways, don't you want to know what happened afterwards?" He asks, and I nod.
"The next morning, I woke up on the floor of the hallway - for a second I thought all of it was a dream. But when the entire house was empty except for my sleeping brother...I knew the truth."
"When he woke up, I lied to him. I lied to him everyday, because every day he'd ask me about them. I hated lying to him, I fucking hated it."
"Eventually we ran out of food. And I had to figure out something to be able to feed ourselves, to feed my brother. So I went out, and made sure my brother didn't leave home. Most of the time I would leave at night, when he fell asleep, so that he wouldn't worry. I managed to take a bit of our possessions and trade them off for food in the black market. I made sure he wouldn't go hungry - not while I could do something about it. So I did the best thing a fifteen year old could do." He pauses, looking at me. "Abigail, you stopped eating. Please eat." He pushes the plate of pizza towards me.
I'm surprised at his use of "please", but when was I not tonight? This night was full of surprises and uncovered secrets, so I obediently start eating my food again and my mind wanders to the poor child who'd lost his innocence at the age of fifteen. "Go on, Sir."
He sighs, but then nods. "Even though I could've passed for an eighteen year old then, I still made sure I was careful. But then sure enough, someone noticed that there was something off about me."
"He was a middle-aged man, maybe even the same age as my father would have been. He came to the black market every day, and ran the entire thing, so naturally he noticed everyone that came and went, and he realized that I was always there, trading off anything I could find, for simple amounts of food. I was pretty desperate, I guess, and I was taken advantage of many times and not given the value of what I'd traded back in food and necessities."
"Who was this man?"
--
Zayn's POV
"Hey, you!" A voice called out from behind me, and I tensed. I just had purchased a couple of vegetables and a loaf of bread from Karen, the sweet old woman who'd always give me a bit of extra food than what I paid for.
I ignored the voice, pretending I hadn't heard. I didn't want any unwanted attention, I needed to remain with the crowd and just act like everyone else. I turn to make my way out of the abandoned building they used as a black market, because I need to get home to Caleb; it was already almost dawn.
A hand grabs my shoulder, turning me around, and I tensed again. I tried to act nonchalant about his hold on me, but inside, I was terrified.
"I thought you might want some meat, real meat." He says, and then places a tray of raw beef in my hand. I glance at it cautiously, skeptical.
"Don't worry, kid. I haven't poisoned it or nuthin." He grunts, and smiles. "Now go, enjoy it."
I can't believe my ears, and the next thing I knew, I wrapped my arms around the man in a quick hug. Thanking him, I rushed off to the trail that lead me to our secluded home, back to Caleb, grinning from ear to ear with the delicacy I'd managed to acquire.
When I woke up Caleb that morning with a huge breakfast I'd prepared, along with beef steaks, he was so elated, he cried. I knew from that day on that I'd always want to bring him real meat, not just vegetables and chips and whatever shit I could find.
Soon, what became a once in a life time miracle, happened every day. I'd go to the market, and the man would see me, greet me, ask how I was doing, and slip me some food. Before I realized what was happening, I became dependent on him - he became sort of like my second father, I guess.
"How about you come over for a while, Zayn?" He asked me one day, just as I arrived to the black market. "To my house."
I was tempted, but I didn't know whether or not I could trust him. "I don't think so, Sir..." I refused politely. Besides, I had to get back to Caleb.
"Call me, Max, my name's Max Sykes." He said, and then smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to offer you some desert or something, you seem like a good kid in need of a treat."
I bit my lip, hesitating. "Okay. But I have to leave before dawn."
He pat my back, and then led me to his car.
After a quick drive, he turned into the driveway of a large mansion, bigger than anything I had ever set my eyes on. I followed him inside, skeptical, but he just reassured me with a smile.
Those two hours were the most luxurious two hours I'd spent in my life. He had his servants bring me food, deserts, and I enjoyed my time there. But those two hours were short, and dawn was nearing, and I had to go back and return to Caleb.
Caleb. I thought guiltily. He would've wanted some desert. Before giving myself a second to consider it, I asked Max if I could take some home with me, and he agreed immediately.
He ended up dropping me off back at the black market, because I still didn't trust him enough to take me back to our house, and so I took the half an hour walk back to the house with a bag load of sweets in my hand.
When I opened the door, Caleb rushes from the living room to me, his eyes full of worry. "I thought you'd disappeared! Where'd you go?"
I didn't reply, instead, I handed him the bag of sweets, and then headed back to my room to catch up on the hours I hadn't slept.
His jaw dropped when he found what was inside, and he forgave me right away. I knew he would have.
It became a routine for us, Max and I, the man would take me back to his mansion, feed me, and I would go back home with food for Caleb. At first I thought it was suspicious, but then I realized that the man was one of those rare kind souls who genuinely cared about those around him, and so I didn't have a problem with it anymore.
"Zayn, son, I think you should just move in. Live here. I already consider myself your father, you know. I already have a son your age, and I think you two would get along really well." I never knew he had a son, probably because I've only ever been here in the night hours, up until right before the sun rises, and he was always asleep.
"I don't know, Max. I don't want you to feel obligated to-"
He snorts. "Zayn, I already feed you and bring you back here to enjoy yourself. You living here won't make a difference to me at all. I think you would like it here."
I hesitated again. If it was just me, alone, I would have agreed in a heartbeat. The only thing holding me back, the only thing keeping me from agreeing with Max was Caleb. And Max didn't know about Caleb, because I never had told him. I'm sure he knew there was someone I had with me, but he wasn't nosy, and I appreciated that about him.
"You can bring whoever it is that you want here, with you. It's not a big deal." He says, and I narrow my eyes in suspicion.
"I don't have anyone with me. I am alone." I lie. I can't have him finding out about Caleb, I don't want anyone to know. I don't want Caleb to be a victim of any mistake I choose to make.
"Alright, Zayn. Then you just think about it. Keep that in the back of yo' head. You're always welcome to take my offer up."
I nod, and cross my arms. "It's almost dawn, can you take me back, now?"
He grunts, and then stands up off the couch. "Alright, son."
After about a year of him constantly trying to convince me, I surprised myself and him by agreeing. "You're right, Max. But let me think about it, yeah?"
I went home that day, and approached Caleb. "Caleb, I...I have something that I need to do during the days. I have to get a job, you know? So that I can bring food home. I can't keep selling our stuff."
He doesn't say anything, waiting for me to continue.
"Are you okay with it?"
He sighs. "We don't really have a choice, do we?"
I shake my head, frowning. "I swear I'll come back with food every single night."
Little did I know, that promise was easier said than done.
--
Abby's POV
Ever since I asked him that question, he had explained to me everything, his eyes distant, as if he was flash-backing. I didn't interrupt him, but I was dying to ask him a question ever since he'd mentioned the name of the man who'd helped him.
"You said his name was Max, Max Sykes?" I ask, the name ringing a bell.
"Yeah," Zayn nods, and then pulls me into his lap. I relax in his arms, and I feel his lips at my hair.
"Does that mean...Sykes...Nathan Sykes is-"
"Yes. He's the son."
"Holy shit," I curse, "how did a guy that good have a son that awful?"
He smiles, and he takes my hands in his. "Jealousy." He stated simply. "Jealousy is an evil thing, it can corrupt you, horribly even. I think Nathan saw me as his father's replacement son. He felt that I had taken his place under his father's wing, and become Max's better son. He was horribly jealous."
"What happened to Caleb, then?"
"I came back to the house every night, sometimes every other night when I couldn't come more often. I felt guilty about it, but it was the only way I could protect him and make sure he had food on the table."
"What happened after that?" I ask him, and the play with his thumb.
"Max...Max was a very rich man, you know. A few days after my eighteenth birthday, this man - my second father, died. He was poisoned." He answers gravely.
"What? Poisoned?? Who did it?" I question, startled.
"Investigators didn't care enough to find out. But I think we all knew who it was."
"Nathan?"
Zayn nods. "He had gathered enough hatred for me and his father, and I think that he believed the only way to kick me out was to get rid of his father. So he did."
"That's horrible," I say softly, squeezing his hand.
"Yeah, it was. But here's the thing. Max had changed his will after he met me and took me under his care."
"Wait, he left money for you?" I asked, surprised. "Really?"
"A shitload of money. And my mansion, and a letter, as well."
"A letter? What'd he say?"
He smiles again, a small, reminiscent smile. "He wrote to me. He said that he'd left a good amount of money for me to be able to take care of myself. And he said, and I quote 'I also left an amount specifically for the use of that person you've been hiding from me over the time I had known you. I wish I would've known who it was, and you would've trusted me enough to inform me, but I understand that you have good intentions. Please give that money to that person in your care, and the rest of it is yours. I am glad to have been a father for you, and know that you have always been more than just a son to me. You're my blood, and I wish you well."
It's amazing how he'd memorized these lines - and thinking about it, he must have read them over and over again. A grown-up too fast teenager, a letter in his hands, from the second father he'd lost in the span of three years.
A silence fell upon us, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. I mourned for the younger version of this man whose arms where around me, the one who could've been happy, normal, and not as angry and controlling as he is now. The one who could've grown up with two parents, a brother, and a decent and quiet rural life.
But that was all stripped away from him when he lost his first set of parents, and then his second father figure was murdered shortly afterwards.
"Do you think they could still be alive?" I ask suddenly, breaking out of my thoughts.
"Who?" He replies, confused.
"Your parents?"
"No." His voice is solemn and worn out. "Slave deaths aren't important, but I've heard that they didn't last very long in slavery."
"Oh," I swallow, remorseful that I'd asked him this. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm so very sorry. It's horrible what's been done to you."
I turn around so that I'm straddling him, and rest my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his torso. "But you've gone through the same." He says in a small voice.
"Not exactly, but almost." I close my eyes. "But I did have an adult to take care of me, at least. My uncle managed for Sebastian and I. We didn't have to struggle to find our food - my uncle did."
Continuing, I sigh. "But you - you were like fifteen, and you had to take care of your twelve year old brother, and yourself. That's an unimaginable wait on your shoulders."
"You really can't get through life without suffering, can you?" He asks rhetorically. "Life fucks us all."
I couldn't help but agree.
--
I stored the remainder of the pizza in the fridge, and then we turn off the lights in the kitchen and made our way back to the small living room with the brown leather couches.
"Where do you want to sleep, Abby?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Wherever is fine with me."
Zayn hesitates before speaking again. He's been doing that all night - hesitating. It's so unlike him, but I can't get enough of it. "We can squeeze onto my bed?"
I knew he couldn't bear the thought of sleeping in his deceased parent's bed, and the only other options we had were his bed, Caleb's, or the couch. "Your bed it is."
Zayn hands me new sheets from one of the linen closets, and I remove the bedding from his mattress because it was dusty from not being used and replace it with the folded ones. Once I tuck in all the sides, Zayn walks into the room with out two bags - my duffle bag, and his traveling suitcase.
I don't think twice before I slip out of my jeans and pull off my green sweater, and bend over to open the duffle bag full of my clothes. When I look up, Zayn's staring at me, his eyes widened, his jaw slightly open.
"What?" I ask, suddenly embarrassed, and bring up a shirt to cover my bra and panties clad self.
His eyes darken with lust, his demeanor brooding and enticing. I quickly pull an oversized t-shirt over my head, keeping my eyes averted from his gaze.
When he sits down on the bed, I turn around so that my back is to him, and slip out of my bra from under my t-shirt and shove it into my bag.
"Turn off the lights, babe."
I do as he says, and flick off the lights. Out of habit, I close the door of the bedroom, and make my way back to the bed. It's a small bed, only twin sized, and the only way that the two of us could fit onto it was if I was in Master Zayn's embrace, and that's exactly what happened. His arms enveloped me, bringing my back against his chest, and he buried his face into my neck. I could feel his warm breath hit my skin each time he exhaled, and it took me a while to be able to calm down my racing thoughts from all this information I was told tonight.
But much too soon, unconsciousness embraced me, and I was fast asleep, dreaming of the young teenaged boy who had his innocence stripped from him much too soon.
--
Perrie's POV
I flipped onto my other side, and closed my eyes again. I'd been doing this for the past hour, switching sides, positions, and fluffing pillows, but sleep wouldn't come.
I let out a frustrated sigh, and let myself drown in my thoughts. So much shit had happened, and I didn't know what to make of it all. I know it wasn't Harry's fault for what had happened last night after the party - we were both too drunk to know any better.
But what really scared me is that I didn't regret it half as much as I should have, making me regret it even more. Did than even make sense? It probably didn't, but my thoughts weren't making any sense either.
I was just terrified to talk to him, to see his reaction. I wanted him to think nothing of it, but at the same time, I wanted it to be more that just a compulsive deed committed between two highly intoxicated people.
So I hid myself in my room all day, and not left it. After he made breakfast for me, which I thought was very sweet of him, I spent the rest of the day becoming a prune, soaking hot Jacuzzi water to dull my aching body and numb my thoughts.
I groan in anger again, and then flip onto my right side. There was no point in even trying to sleep, it wan't going to happen. So why try?
Right before I could make the decision to get out of bed and head to the gym, my ears perked up at the sound of a soft knock on my door.
Just as I sat up, my eyes zero in on the figure that's intruding in my room, a dark silhouette of curls peeking in in the dark. "Perrie?"
I don't answer, instead, I freeze. I don't know what to say, or do.
"I just came in here to make sure you were able to sleep."
My heart melts at his words - although I've been avoiding him all day, at the end of the night, he's making sure I'm not having trouble falling asleep. "Thank you." I whisper low, so low that I'm not even sure he heard.
"Just lay your head back, and close your eyes." He says soothingly, fully stepping into my room and closing the door shut behind him slowly. "Don't mind me, I'll just stand here until you fall asleep." He moves to the corner of my room, and leans against the wall. I'm surprised, but warmed at his small gesture of thoughtfulness, but altogether grateful.
After giving him a hesitant glance, I do as he says. I lay my head back down onto my pillow, and close my eyes. His presence is calming, and I don't know what it is about him that relaxes me, and calms me.
I'm startled when he sneezes, and he apologizes immediately. I just nod, and close my eyes again, trying to focus on falling unconscious at will.
Soon, with just the knowledge of his presence in my room, my body unwound and my thoughts subsided, and within minutes I succumbed to a deep and much needed sleep.
~~