eleven- family
song for this chapter: “blackbird” by The Beatles
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Iris sighed, sinking down into the couch, holding the photo in her hands. Zayn watched her, concern filling him as he saw how fragile she looked, like she would //cry// or something. He sat down next to her.
“I miss him so much.” She whispered, stroking the picture. “So very much.”
Zayn had no idea what to say: he wanted to know where her father was, why she was out here all by herself, what happened. But he knew it was a stupid question to ask, it wasn’t his right to know.
So instead he wrapped his arm around her, and she curled up into him, making his heart jump a little. Her eyes were still focused on the photo, and from here Zayn could see it.
He smiled when he saw the baby, Iris already having a lock of bright blonde hair on her head, her green eyes wide as she stared at the camera. He was shocked to see that her mother looked exactly like Iris, probably the only difference being that she had large blue eyes instead of green. Iris’ father had dark hair and green eyes, stubble covering his chin and cheeks. He was smiling widely, and Zayn thought he had never seen someone look so happy.
“My mother, Aria, died an hour after the photo was taken. She had internal bleeding, and the doctor’s could do nothing to save her. My father was furious: he couldn’t believe that with all of society’s technology they were unable to do anything for her. Mere hours after I was born he took me from my crib and fled.”
She wasn’t crying, but she was shaking. Zayn didn’t move, waiting for her to continue.
“My father and mother had built this house a year before I was born. Their plan was after I was six months old, they would move here secretly, and never leave. They both believed that the simple life was a superior way of living, and both had been raised on farms. They wished me to have the same upbringing.”
She swallowed, and started stroking the picture. “My father was inconsolable for a long time, even when I was older. For a long time I figured that my mother’s death was my fault, especially in the cold way my father took care of me.”
“I loved him dearly. I cherished the time he spent with me, teaching me how to write, read, cook, clean and draw. When he was teaching me things, he managed to smile and laugh. But I knew that looking at me hurt him, because I look so much like my mother.”
“You really do.” Zayn whispered in agreement, and he could see her smiling.
“My father also taught me things such as geography, history, basic science, maths, the workings of music, and his favourite topic, the language of English. He taught me every aspect of grammar that he could remember, and made me answer multiple questions on books that he assigned me to read. I loved it almost as much as he did.”
“I would often ask for stories of my mother, and most of the time he accepted, telling me lovely tales of how they met, and how they fell in love. He was a good story teller, and he often read stories to me before I went to sleep.”
“When I was thirteen he taught me how to run the farm, and often made me take care of the farm by myself. ‘One day you’ll be alone, Iris, and you will need to know how to take care of yourself.’ Every time he said this, I was always inclined to ask, ‘But you will be here for a while?’ And he’d nod and hug me, whispering yes into my ear.”
Iris stopped shivering, but Zayn could feel how tense she was in his arms. She sighed. “Three years ago, when I was sixteen, my father had an accident. He had cut his thigh with an ax. There was blood everywhere, and I bandaged him up as best as I could, but he was still bleeding heavily.”
She fell silent. “You don’t have to tell me.” He said softly, tightening his hold on her slightly.
“He had kept one car. He hadn’t used it since I was born, but he demanded that I help him get to the car. I never had disobeyed his orders, and helped him into the driver’s seat.”
“He said to me, ‘Iris, I need to go to the hospital. I’ll be back as soon as I can, alright? Don’t worry, everything will be well. I love you.’ I whispered my own ‘I love you too’ as he drove away, and to this day I have not seen my father again.”
“I wasn’t much of a crier, but two months after he left, I realised he wasn’t going to come back. I assumed the worst, and started to cry, on the porch out front. From that day, I have not cried, and will not cry.”
Zayn felt tears well up in his own eyes, though didn’t let them fall. He understood her coldness now. She thought that Zayn would leave her, like her father did.
“I pray that he comes back every day.” Iris mumbled. “And yet every day my prayers go unanswered.”
“He’ll come back one day, don’t worry.” Zayn said, gently running a hand through her hair, wondering if this was breaking every rule of their friendship (not that he minded).
“Maybe.” She said quietly, looking away from him. “But then you came, and I could never look at anything the same again. You... you helped me, Zayn. I remembered what it was like to be happy again.”
A single tear slid down Zayn’s cheek, and he hurriedly wiped it away, before Iris could see. He stopped caressing her hair, and looked at the ceiling, feeling so confused.
He wasn’t supposed to be this close to her. Any day a car could come by and he’d be gone, he’d never see her again.
Zayn suddenly felt guilty: he’d like to think that he would be able to keep the promises that he made her, but they were all empty, no matter how much he wished they weren’t. How could he say those things to her?
Iris suddenly stood up, and gave him a smile. “You kind of remind me of my father.”
A lump formed in Zayn’s throat. “Really?”
She nodded, the smile still present. “You both have that weird sense of humour.”
He managed a small smile. “What was his name?”
Iris looked down at her feet. “Liam Larson.”
A chill went through him, and it all clicked into place: why she had looked so sad when she had asked about Liam, why she left him to last. He gulped and looked away too.
“Can I see your car?”
Zayn looked back towards her, and saw that she was looking at him curiously. “Are you being serious?”
She frowned. “Of course I am.”
Of course she is, Zayn thought, and despite himself began to smile. “Well, let’s go.”
•
“Zayn, what are we?”
“What do you mean?”
“I... I’ve never done this before. Are we more than acquaintances?”
“Well, if you want to be.”
“So we are... friends?”
“I’d like to be.”
“Me too.”
Zayn smiled, even though his thoughts were still on how he should stop getting so emotionally attached to Iris, but it was moments like these where he didn’t want to think about what could happen, but just focus on now.
“Do you walk down to your car every day?” She asked, not seeming fazed by the exercise.
“Yeah, it’s a pain in the ass.” Zayn muttered.
“Why?”
Zayn smirked at her. “Cause I’m a lazy idiot who generally has done nothing physical in my life.”
She smiled, shaking her head slightly. “And it all becomes clear.”
He chuckled, and a comfortable silence ensued. The hill had become a little steeper, meaning Zayn had trouble keeping his balance, whilst Iris seemed totally at home.
Zayn’s wrecked car could now be seen, glimmering in the the late morning sun. That morning he had not gone to see if any cars passed by, instead helping Iris clean the house, which led to her stumbling upon the photo.
“Do you think it will ever work again?” Iris asked, making Zayn chuckle.
“Well, after seventeen days in the sun, I'm thinking that it won’t.” He said, making her smile.
“I really wish that I could help you, but my father never believed that I would need to know the workings of a car. He barely let me near his own.” Iris said.
“Don’t worry about it, the car was on the verge of it’s death anyway.” Zayn said, reaching the car and giving it a hearty slap. “Kind of always hated it anyway.”
“How could you hate an inanimate object?” Iris asked, frowning, inspecting the car thoroughly.
“It has let me down many times, I wish I could throw it into a fire. I remember one time when I was trying to get to my family’s place, and my car conked out halfway there. I tried calling my mum, but my phone was flat and I found out later that mum had called the police, thinking that I had been abducted.” Zayn said, giving the flat tyre a little kick.
“Your hatred is understandable now.” Iris said, though she was looking at the car with wonder and longing.
“Do you like it?” Zayn asked, leaning against the car, watching her.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I’ve always had an affinity for things that come from the outside world.”
“Maybe that’s why you like me so much, eh?” Zayn said, winking at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever you wish to believe.”
Zayn laughed, and sighed, breathing in the warm air. Though the sky was nearly fully covered by clouds, the sun managed to let it’s heat warm the ground and air. He couldn’t wait for autumn to begin, to have the fresh, crisp wind caressing his dark skin.
He now realised that summer would only remind him of Iris, of the time that they spent together. What a painful reminder it would be.
“I’ve never had a friend before.”
Zayn turned to his gaze to her, and his breathing hitched a little. She looked so... at peace with everything around her, and the way the corners of her lips twitched upwards as she admired things made Zayn //feel// like if she could be happy, than so could he.
“You are my first friend, Zayn. I asked my dad if he would bring me a friend, so I could play with them when I was bored.” Iris’ face fell into a mask of sadness. “He scolded me, telling me that I didn’t need a friend, that I was fine.”
“It hurt, being there with my father but feeling so alone.” She whispered, her hand rising to her chest, fingers seeming to dig harshly into her skin, making Zayn wince.
Zayn took a step towards her, smiling gently. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”
Iris looked away shyly. “It’s nice not to be.”
A rough wind started blowing, making leaves rustle and old tree branches moan. Zayn looked around him, feeling a sense of wildness at being in the centre of this forest, away from where people had commercialised them and trimmed them to their liking.
No, this was a pure forest, every impurity left in, every weed able to grow without fear of being cut. Every wild animal in this part did not fear being hunted, and lived lives where food was abundant.
He couldn’t leave here permanently; he just wouldn’t be able to do it. Zayn would have to come back, would have to introduce the boys to Iris, at least. Liam would love it out here, and would definitely love Iris.
The thought of Liam loving Iris made his chest burn painfully. He imagined them meeting, he imagined them whispering to each other, he imagined them holding hands, hugging, kissing-
“Zayn, are you alright?”
Iris’ voice brought him out of the harrowing visions he was experiencing, and he managed a weak smile, waving it off. “I’m fine.”
Iris frowned, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you sure?”
Zayn nodded eagerly, trying to clear his rather clouded and troubled thoughts. Why was he even envisioning such weird things anyway? That would never happen, and even if it did, it wouldn’t matter to Zayn.
He swallowed and wondered how long he could pretend that it wouldn’t matter a lot more to Zayn than he would like to admit.
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woo hey I'm back :)
how are you guys? everything good? I start my second last year of high school in two days eep help me D:
I thought I'd dedicate this chapter to the lovely @lihtan for updating for me over the past couple of weeks, thanks so much xx
Sara xx
p.s. 'Cavalier' by James Vincent Mcmorrow is perf just saying >.<