four fingers, one thumb ➳ z.m. short story

100% - without you, i'm half a heart

[occured when, finally, he was there, and she was there, and their lips were allowed to meet]

she heard the front door open about ten minutes after she had gotten off the phone with zayn, and she froze. she'd been in a good mood, obviously, after zayn had just asked her to be his girlfriend, after he had told her that he was in love with her, which was very different from just loving her.

except now--now she was scared. only three people had a key to her flat; her mother, her brother, and zayn. and her mother was out of town visiting her brother, and zayn was in australia. so, basically, she was about to die.

she held her breath, glancing around her for anything she could potentially use as a weapon. there was her phone, but she wasn't about to break that. and she was on a couch, so there were pillows.

if she managed to tackle the intruder to the ground, she could potentially asphyxiate them with the pillow. maybe.

she wasn't really into murder, though. didn't figure it'd look good on her résumé: worked at staples, dunkin' donuts, and also killed a man.

just as she started to sink to the floor to try to make herself seem invisible, she heard a faint, "em?" from the hallway.

and she knew that voice. fuck, of course she knew that voice.

and, if she was correct, that voice was not in australia, where it claimed to be.

she heard footsteps but she was still frozen from the fact zayn was here to move, and pretty soon he stood before her, and you could see the fond on his face, and, wow, emily definitely didn't remember him being this attractive before he left.

"any particular reason that you're on the floor, babe?" he asked her, and two seconds later he was kneeling on the ground too. "surprise?"

"i almost killed you, you asshole," she groaned, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, dropping the pillow from her hand. she really wanted to kiss him but didn't know if she was allowed to, now, when they were like this. when they weren't just long-distance phone calls and hangover text messages. zayn seemed to be thinking the same thing because he didn't touch her, didn't even hug her, just sat there while she continued to speak. "really. i was going to strangle you."

"m'sorry."

"you're not." emily tried her best to remember to breathe because really, it was a bit unfair in her opinion that he looked equally as calm as he did tempting. "and you told me you were in australia."

"lied," he shrugged. "we have a a few weeks break before that leg of the tour." he picked at the carpet, toeing off his shoes and stretching out his legs before turning back to her. "visited my mum and the family yesterday, but she literally ran me out of the house because she could tell i wanted to see you."

and emily tried to keep the fluttering of her heart at bay but it's not her fault that he was so charming.

and he was hers.

christ; she must've been a saint in her past life to deserve this.

"alright, so, wait," she paused. "give me a timeline to follow. i think i'm a bit lost."

he snorted. "naturally."

"hey."

he gave her a small smile. "okay, let's start off with the night i drunk-dialed you, yeah? that was my last day with the boys, so naturally, we got plastered."