heartbeat // zayn malik AU

chapter two

"I know the memories are rushing into mind.

I wanna kiss your scars tonight, baby."

- The Fray [Heartbeat]

On most days, especially Saturdays, the word "morning" meant no earlier than 11:30 A.M., especially when associated with the act of waking up. 

Yet here I was, sitting up in bed, at the literal crack of dawn; the sky outside my floor-length glass door was still a melancholy indigo hue, only the very East edged with the faint amber outline of sunlight.

"It's too early to be up," I mumbled tiredly to myself, even as I swung my legs out of the bed, shivering as the cold air hit my bare skin, and my feet touched down on the plush carpet of my room. "It's too early to go around checking up on angels," I added as I padded across and opened the balcony door.

Honestly, despite the realness of my memory of touching Zayn's wings, the way everything about him was distinctly imprinted into my mind, I was still expecting it to be a dream. Maybe it was that odd part of every human, the steady, rock-solid part that doesn't like things to change. That expects miracles, but doesn't want to embrace them. That detests change of any sort.

Anyway, when I saw Zayn sprawled out on the floor of my balcony, fast asleep, the slightest layer of stubble scattered across his impeccably-cut jaw, I screamed bloody murder.

Jumping straight to his feet with impossible speed and grace, Zayn stood facing me, his eyes wide with shock--when he saw it was only me, his stance relaxed a little bit, though he still looked a little on edge. "Valarie?" he said.

"Zayn," I said in a defeated tone. "You still exist."

Rather bemusedly, he gave me a nod. "Why, yes I do. Thanks for noticing?"

I drew my bare foot along the ground, examining the lining of dust that came away clinging to my skin. Someone should probably clean this balcony--but considering that someone would probably end up being me, I decided against voicing my concerns to my mother later. "And by any chance, are you still an angel?"

"Yep."

"Are you sure? You're not some kind of runaway model who climbed up my balcony with a ladder and taped feathers to his back? I wasn't hallucinating?"

A slow grin slid across his face, and he shook his head. "Nope, nope, and nope."

I sighed, leaning against the castiron railing behind me and feeling the chilly dawn breeze creeping up my legs and seeping through the thin fabric of my nightshirt. "I was afraid of that." Privately, I reprimanded myself for forgetting to put on a pair of pants over my tiny shorts, once again. How much leg was I planning on showing this dude?

"So am I in trouble again? For, you know, existing." Zayn's eyes were thankfully on my face, not on my body.

I let a frown crease my brow. "Depends. Are you still going to insist that you're my guardian, and I your Charge, and try to protect me?"

He flinched slightly. "Yes. I have no choice."

"Then yes, you're in trouble," I said, pursing my lips.

With a sigh, he said, "Most Charges aren't as difficult as you're being, you know. I wish Astral had assigned me to a younger kid..." This last part was said mostly to himself.

"Who's Astral?"

He scowled at me. "No one," he snapped.

"Oh, imaginary friend, is she?" I shot back. I was being mean, but I didn't care. First he had the nerve to be a freaking angel. Next, he had the guts to be hot as a Greek god, making it nearly impossible for me to completely hate him, because of damn hormones and all that. And now he was keeping secrets from me, when he had snuck into my bedroom in the middle of the night and scared the living daylights out of me.