m: zayn malik

9

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It was a beautiful song, he’d admit that much. But it made him sad sometimes—and mostly for the reason that you were so sad each time you listened to it. You would never openly say when you were listening to it, but he caught the name of it every now and again. He listened to it on his own, on his way to work just so that you would feel he wasn’t spying on you.

Course if he asked you would gladly show him.

But as he mentioned, he knew music (duh) and he knew that some songs were just meant for one person sometimes.

Anyhow, there was a far off, wistful look you had when you listened to it. He knew it was the song because no matter what you were doing: work, cooking, cleaning, laundry, your eyes would sort of glaze over. You would clench your jaw and stare far off into space and move at glacial pace. Like you were trying to prolong the moment in time.

And as soon as the song was over you would look around to see if Harry was there and if he was you would smile and ask him if he wouldn’t mind making you a cup of tea.

The two of you had been together for a little over a year and a half and you asked him if he wanted to move in. You offered his own room just so he could have some space and not be intrusive.

To that he rolled his eyes and happily placed his clothing in the drawers beside yours.

That was your nature—you never wanted to burden; Harry didn’t think that it was possible, but you claimed it was. Instead he would tease you or roll his eyes (sometimes both) and just ignore your burdening feeling. Harry knew you felt like a burden for always pestering about him being a burden—and that one was hard to explain.

However, this was different.

Because never in the year and half and then some, had you ever called Harry at work. Never. Even after the time you sliced your hand on a sharp edge of one of the old radiators in your classroom and had to get stitches—Harry just got a text saying I had an accident at school…on an unrelated note can you grab some large bandages on your way home? Xx

So he figured that this was dire that you were finally calling him.

“Hello, love?” He said into the phone gently. He didn’t want to spook you. For like he said, this was probably dire and he figured it was best to be calming regardless of what he thought you would say or how his heart tried beating through the phone to comfort you itself.

There was no answer, though. So he said hello a few more times and smirked with relief each time he said hello realizing that it was of course a pocket dial. He listened for a moment hearing the hum of your car and the sound of music.

But not just any music.

It was the song. The song that you listened to only when you were down. Harry was back to alarmed because he didn’t want you to have that wistful look while you drove—that seemed like it could be dangerous.

He stepped out of the office to stand in the hall in privacy as he listened. He heard sniffles and his heart nearly snapped in half for you because he felt like you were breaking and if he could sense that over the phone he could only imagine how much pain you were in.

Toward the middle of the song, the music was building and this is usually when your jaw clenches tighter. But now your tears must have been flowing and your sniffles were louder. Harry listened intently, praying you made it home safely so you would at least be in your comfy apartment to cry your heart out.

He knew something was off for a few days now because the song seemed to be playing a lot—but he couldn’t figure out why. Nothing seemed wrong. He thought everything was okay with your relationship with him. Your family was okay as far as he knew. Work was a little overwhelming, but again it seemed fine. You were always sunshiney and bright, it really hurt him to hear you so upset.

As Harry listened for any signs that you were about to crash your car or you were about to be blinded by tears you screamed at the top of your lungs. Harry had to jerk the phone away from his ears and several people passing him could hear the noise coming out of his phone (at least, according to the curious glances they made toward him). Nothing of this nature had ever come past your lips. You were a teacher, nothing but kind, gentle words ever came out of your mouth. To hear this gut-wrenching, horror movie-worthy, soul-reaching, body-aching scream rip out of you worried him to no end.

But he was so stunned all he could do was hang up the phone as soon as he heard the sound end and your deep breaths filled with small sniffles.

He stared at his phone in silence for a few moments wondering what on earth that was about. He could hardly focus on getting back into the room. He was truly in awe. Gratefully, his body seemed to be working faster than his mind as he reentered the room, and said, “There’s an emergency, I have to leave right away.”

And that he did.

*

Your car was in the lot in perfect condition. Easing his heart slightly, Harry climbed the steps to your floor and entered the apartment. Immediately, the stereo with that hauntingly beautiful song playing from it, clicked off.

You peered around the corner and smiled sweetly. “You’re home early,” you remarked. Turning back to the counter, you were dicing tomatoes and onions and Harry noted the fajita seasoning smell in the air. He opened the fridge to get the head of lettuce to help but you shooed his hands away from the knives. “M’turn,” you muttered as he answered your previous remark at the same time.

“Mm,” he said kissing your forehead. The only way he could have possibly known you were different without that phone call is your voice was slightly scratchy. “Missed you,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes sweetly. “I doubt you would leave early for me,” you joked.

Harry tilted his head at you and pursed his lips. “Darling, I would do anything for you,” he said simply and meaningfully. It took you aback a little as you diced the onion on the cutting board. It was a bit heavy for a tiny joke.

But Harry wasn’t sure if he should have joked with you all those times about being a burden. He worried it was perhaps, what made you so upset earlier today.

“Oh…well, erm…thank you,” you said awkwardly and blushed a bit. Harry watched you a few moments staring at you curiously. He picked up the remote right by you and he turned up the volume and watched as your eyes flicked back and forth from the remote to the onions nervously.

“Where did you hear this song?” He wondered.

You shrugged. “A TV show.”

“It’s beautiful.” You nodded cautiously in response. “A bit…mellow,” he said softly.

You continued to nod. “It’s from a very solemn scene,” you explained.

He was starting to put pieces together. “Baby, did you know you called me today?” He asked.

Your eyebrows pinched together and you shook your head. “I don’t call you at—”

“I think it was a pocket dial; on your way home this afternoon,” he said simply.

You stopped chopping and you looked straight at the cutting board. “Oh.”

He waited listening to the music. He felt bad, like he was making you nervous—it’s not that he was putting you on the spot or on trial—he just wanted to make sure you were okay. “You can scream pretty good,” he decided a joke would help this situation.

He was wrong.

You felt like you were suffocating and you searched your mind to explain what that could have been but you came up short. You were caught. The tears were burning your eyes immediately and you put your hands together, clasped at your waist and you squeezed a little tight on your own hands just to breathe normally.

Coming around the counter he placed a hand on the back of your arm and pushed a bit of hair behind your ear. “Would you mind telling me why you’re so upset lately, love?” He whispered so sweetly.

It broke you again. You felt like someone had just melted all your atoms into nothing and you turned to Harry as he pulled you tight to his body against his chest, and cupped the back of your head soothingly petting your soft hair down your back. He kissed the top of your head and listened again as you sobbed to this hauntingly beautiful song.

*

After several minutes, some water, and a few moments of quiet, Harry wiped your cheeks while you hiccupped on your breath. “How do you know I’m upset?” You asked.

He shrugged. “Because I love you,” he said simply. You smiled brokenly and blushed just a little. You shook your head.

“That’s…”

“Because you play this song every time you’re down and then you go back to normal. So I just know,” he said easily. “When I heard it through your phone, I was worried you were gonna crash—I wasn’t spying. You always get this dazed look—I was worried about your safety.”

Even when he was upset he was sweeter than sugar.

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and swallowed like it was the first time you had done so in a while. Harry waited patiently.

“I’m not happy right now,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong. But I’m angry and scared and I feel very alone and that’s not true, I have you any moment I want…I’m just…a mess.”

“No love,” he shook his head frowning at you. “No…you’re sad, that’s all.” He cooed and rocked you gently in his arms as he hugged you. He had a lot he wanted to say but he knows how hard it was for you to tell him those words just now.

So for right now, all he had to do was hold you tightly and rock you until the two of you could conquer this new problem together. At one point Harry scooped you into his arms and draped you over his lap, kissing your forehead once more and kissing the side of your head.

“I told you anything, love. I love you so much,” he promised. “We’ll talk in just a bit…but we’re just gonna cuddle right now.”

You felt a few more loving tears roll down your cheeks. “Harry Styles, I love you more than I could ever describe,” you shook your head.

He smirked sweetly at the notion and kissed the tip of your nose. “That’s all I’ll ever need, baby.”

Work 2.0

O primeiro capítulo tá meio paradão, mas eu GARANTO a vocês que a coisa só melhora hahaha. Espero que gostem! Caso alguém não tenha lido Work, aqui, está o último capítulo e vocês vão achando o link para a parte anterior. Não esqueçam de me falar o que acharam! 


- Quer morango? – Gritei da cozinha.

- Por que você está gritando? – Dei um pulo ao ouvir a voz de Zayn próxima de mim, e o mesmo começou a rir.

- Desculpa. Você quer? – Mostrei para ele o morango suculento que estava na minha mão.

Zayn arqueou uma das sobrancelhas, olhou para o morango, depois para mim mais uma vez e então mordeu o morango que estava em minha mão. Nunca consegui imaginar Zayn fazendo uma coisa tão sensual na minha frente; senti minhas bochechas corarem. Eram raras as vezes que Zayn me mostrava as outras faces dele. E já estávamos juntos a mais de um ano.

- Está uma delícia! – Ele sorriu ladino.

- É, está mesmo. – Engoli em seco.

- O que vamos fazer nesse final de semana? – Zayn senta-se na bancada que ficava ao lado da pia.

- O que você quer fazer? – Termino de limpar os morangos.

- Ficar com você, claro! – Ele diz rindo.

- E além disso? – Vou para geladeira guardar os morangos e o resto das compras.

- O que você quiser. – Rolo os olhos, rindo, sem que ele veja. Que grude!

- Está bem, decidimos isso depois. Eu vou tomar um banho agora, por que o dia foi longo. Você me espera aqui? – Me inclinei sobre Zayn e o beijei.

- E onde mais eu iria? – Ele resmungou ainda de olhos fechados. – Vamos pedir uma pizza para hoje?

- Claro! Você pede? – Zayn murmurou um “aham” e voltou a me beijar. – Se você não me soltar eu vou ficar fedendo.

- Vai lá, fedorentinha. – Zayn riu e batei em minha bunda de leve.

Caminho até o quarto pegando meu conjunto de pijama rosadinho, uma calcinha limpa e vou para o banheiro. A água quente relaxa meu corpo e me faz esquecer do dia corrido que tive. Enquanto me seco, escuto a voz de Zayn na sala e a porta sendo fechada. Fiquei tanto tempo assim no banheiro?

Saio do banheiro sem chinelo e esbarro em Zayn.

- O que você tem contra chinelos? De pé descalço de novo? – Zayn faz cara de bravo e eu seguro a risada que quer vir à tona. – Vamos, a pizza chegou.

- Eu só vou pegar meus chinelos. – Zayn revira os olhos, mas concorda com a cabeça.

Zayn montou um restaurante na minha cozinha. A televisão estava conectando no Netflix, duas caixas de pizza em cima da minha mesinha de centro, junto de pratos, talheres e copos; uma garrafa de Coca-Cola encerrava a composição.

- Estamos esperando visita? – Perguntei, apontando para as duas caixas de pizza. Uma de chocolate e outra todinha de calabresa.

- Não, mas as pizzas nem são tão grandes! – Zayn analisou as pizzas dentro das caixas. – Olha, bem.

- Você está tentando me convencer ou convencer a si mesmo? – Arqueio a sobrancelha para ele.

- Tanto faz, vamos comer!

Como já era de e esperar, sobrou pizza; assistimos dois filmes até eu começar a sentir sono. Zayn já dormia ao meu lado no sofá.

- Zayn. – O acariciei no rosto. – Vamos deitar lá no quarto. Vem!

Relutante, o fiz levantar e resmungando mais do que o normal, seguimos para o quarto e o fiz deitar. Ao dar meio volta para apagar as luzes da casa, Zayn me segurou.

- Eu já volto. Só vou apagar as luzes. – Ele abriu um olho. – É sério! Já volto.

Me desvencilhando do seu braço, fui até a sala recolhendo a sujeira e colocando tudo na pia da cozinha; apaguei todas as luzes e a televisão e voltei para o quarto. Ao deitar na cama, Zayn me abraçou e em segundos eu já estava dormindo.

O dia seguinte amanheceu claro. O sol era visível mesmo por trás da persiana; sentia o braço de Zayn pesando na minha cintura e sua respiração calma na minha nuca. A mão do mesmo começou a acariciar a minha barriga suavemente; beijos na nuca foram depositados com carinho.

- Bom dia, Zayn! – Disse sorrindo e me virando para ele.

- Oi! – Zayn disse e mordeu o lábio inferior.

- Por que está me olhando dessa forma? – Perguntei rindo.

- É que eu não me canso de ver como você fica linda quando acorda. – Zayn acaricia meu rosto.

- Ah! – Ri nervosa e me inclinei para beijar seus lábios.

Quando fui me afastar de Zayn, o mesmo me abraçou e colocou mais intensidade em no beijo. Com impulso, ele nos vira na cama me deixando sob ele, entre seus braços fortes. Os beijos desceram para meu pescoço e seu corpo passou a se movimentar sobre mim. Eu já podia senti-lo em mim.

Nos despimos para, enfim, ser tomada por Zayn.

Meus gemidos se misturavam com os dele que eram roucos e longos. Suas mãos me moldavam e me acariciavam, seus beijos me entorpeciam. Estava perdida nos braços de Zayn. Como sempre me perdia. Me sentia amada como sempre. Zayn era sempre o melhor.

- Ah, (S/A)! – Zayn gemeu após me soltar. – Nossa!

Zayn abraçou minha cintura.

- Eu queria fazer um café da manhã para você, mas estou acabado! – Zayn disse e riu.

- Eu vou lá e faço para nós! – Eu sorri e suspirei em seguida.

- Não! Você vai ficar aqui comigo! – Zayn me puxou para cima dele. – Eu te amo!

- Eu te amo. – Sorri e acariciei seu rosto. Beijando seus lábios em seguida.

- Acho que devíamos fazer o café juntos. – Zayn diz depois de nos separar e me colocar deitada ao lado dele.

- Acho que sim.

- Ainda tem os morangos de ontem? – Ele morde minha bochecha.

- Tem…

- Que ótimo!