early in the morning • zayn malik

→ too far away ←

→ too far away ←

 

Alone. No, lonely was a more accurate description of how Zayn was feeling at the moment. He couldn’t believe that after all that he had been through he felt no comfort in being alone anymore.

He knew why, he knew why he needed human interaction more than anything. Zayn craved Bryony more than he realised, and every moment that he wasn’t with her he wanted to be, and now when she had just left his house, he felt it.

Harry had called a couple of hours before, saying that he’d be coming over to stay. Zayn was glad that he was, especially since he hadn’t seen Harry in a while, and he sounded oddly dead-pan on the phone.

Zayn sat down in the chair by the window, looking at the wondrous grey clouds spreading across the expanse of the tumultuous blue-grey sea. He could see the lupins blooming happily, and a small smile flickered on his lips as he thought of Bryony.

He was not yet in love with her, that he knew. He knew what love was, and it had felt like the first five months of being with Perrie. The way that she’d look at him, like she knew everything about him, comforted him to no end. They were perfect for each other.

They were perfect for each other, other, other.

 

The phone began to ring, and Zayn looked at it for a moment, not blinking, not even registering the sound. He stood up, walking slowly over to the phone. He didn’t think that it would be Bryony, she wouldn’t be home yet.

“Hello?” Zayn said, his voice raspy, holding the phone to his ear with shaking hands.

“Zayn, how are you?” A high voice said, one that sounded familiar and yet not familiar at the same time. It was a cold, dead voice, one that made goose-bumps rise up on his arms and violent tremor run through him.

“W-who is this?” Zayn stuttered, holding onto the counter top so tightly his knuckles turned white. “How did you get my number?”

“Can’t even recognise your old band mate, huh?” The voice said, probably intended to sound light, instead only sounding incredibly bitter.

“Louis.” Zayn breathed, feeling even weaker than before, having to stumble over to a chair so that he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“So, how are you Zayn? Everything going well?” Louis said, a slight crackle on the line, punctuating his harsh words.

Zayn let out a shaky breath, his free hand tugging at his hair, relief and fear pulsating through him. “I’m... alright. Is... How’s Eleanor?”

“She’s very well. I’m now a father.” Louis said, his voice not sounding as curt as before.

Tears sprung up in Zayn’s eyes. “Congratulations.” He said, voice cracking. “I’m so happy for you.” He whispered, knowing that he really meant it.

“It’s a girl.” Louis said softly. “We called her Felicite.”