A/N: So, hopefully this chapter is longer, I've been typing it since Thursday, and the damn "n" key just started cooperating today, so if you see a word that should have a "n" but doesn't, please tell me. Anyways, I enjoyed reading all of your answers to the question I left on the last chapter, YOU PEOPLE ARE AWESOME!!! :D Also with Harry's dream, it doesn't mean anything, I just wanted to have a little fun with it so I made something totally random out from the top of my head.
Zayn's P.O.V
"Morning sunshine? How'd you sleep?" Liam says, failing miserably to conceal the amusement in his voice.
I grunt in response and literally collapse down onto the couch, the soft leather feeling heavenly against my back, which still hurts like a bitch after I passed out on the kitchen table last night. And might I add that said table was made out of granite? Yeah, it wasn't exactly a fucking picnic.
"Well it looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the table this morning."
I pick up a discarded throw pillow and place it over my face, "How did I even end up on the fucking table? I wasn't even drunk."
"All I know is that when I got up this morning, you were drooling on the area where we eat our food."
"I don't drool!" I say defensively, throwing the pillow at Liam, who catches it with ease considering my pathetic early-morning throeing skills.
"Yes you do, and I have the photo evidence to prove it."
My eyes widen and I sit bolt upright on the couch, wincing a little as the movement jars my back, "You took a fucking picture?!!"
Liam simply smiles and tosses the pillow back to me, "Hey, I'm not going to pass up a chance for blackmail."
Liam walks down the hallway towards his room and I groan inwardly, relaxing back onto the couch. Well that's just a fan-fucking-tastic way to begin my morning.
"Oh and Zayn?"
"What Liam?"
"Your turn to make breakfast."
I stop the groan of protest form escaping my lips and instead use that energy to haul myself up off the couch and into the kitchen. Of course the one day that I feel like I've been run over by a fucking bulldozer is the day that I'm forced to actually do work.
Rubbing my hand over my aching spine and hobbling towards the fridge like an old man, I pull open the door to survey the contents. Let's see, I could attempt to make eggs, but who am I kidding? I would probably burn the place down first. Pancakes? No...
I slam the door shut in frustration and plod over to the breakfast bar. Snagging an orange from a bowl of fruit that Nickolette probably put there, I plop myself down onto one of the bar stools and place my head in my arms and let my thoughts wander.
I wonder if anyone's noticed we're missing yet. It's pretty likely that everyone in our team knows, but did they bother to tell our families? Our fans? There hasn't been any hysterical directioners on the telly lately so I'm guessing not the latter. But what about our families? Are they even safe from Adam and his cronies?
I jerk my head up abruptly, hitting it on the cabinet as the gurgling of my stomach jerks me out of my less-than-pleasant thoughts.
"Fucking hell!" I mumble, clapping a hand over the back of my throbbing skull. Jeez, at this rate I'm going to be crippled by Friday.
Deciding that eating the orange will be safer, I send the cabinet a dirty glare and scoot the chair backwards. Sticking a finger into the top of the orange, I try to peel the skin off, but with no luck. Da fuck?
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Runaways -A One Direction Fan Fic-
FanfictionPeople go missing everyday, whether from kidnapping, homicide or they just simply ran. The world is cruel, they'll care until the interest has fled and return to their normal lives, gradually letting unsettling events slip to the locked corner in th...
