Work Text:
Sometimes Zayn wonders if anyone else has ever felt this lost, or alone before. If anyone else locks themselves in the confinement of their bedroom and watches as the curtains push and pull from the cool breeze outside the open window, and the papers thrown across the desk flutter in the wind.
Zayn lies in bed, the duvet thrown away. He has his phone in his hands, texting Liam pictures he’d drawn over the last day. Pictures sketched magnificently into his visual journal, drawn in graphite.
Figures scattered perfectly across the page, feathered wings stretched from either side of every human that he’s drawn.
They are portraits of angels, beautiful in their own rights.
Liam replies with a smiley face to his texts, telling Zayn that he has enhanced, that his pencil work is improving, and how he can almost feel the way Zayn puts himself into his art.
That night, Zayn goes to sleep with a smile on his face, and his arms stretched around his body, fingers running across the span of his own back, feeling for differences.
---
The pictures are scarred into his mind, a constant source of comfort throughout the day.
It’s the afternoon, and Zayn is in math. He ignores the teacher as he explains equations on the board and he doodles small prints into the margin of his notepad. He can feel the presence of someone behind him and knows, without looking, that it’s Liam who admires his work from afar. His fingers loosen around the pen and drop it to his desk. He turns his head softly, looking across his shoulder at the other boy and smiles warmly.
Liam smiles back with a curve of his lips and then drops his glance back to his work and focuses on the algebra set before him. Zayn though, caught in his trance, ignores the math, and instead focuses on the curve and line of the wing he’s sketching on his page. Beautiful. Spectacular.
---
When darkness finally approaches, Zayn is hunched over his window frame with his eyes searching the city view he has from his third storey bedroom. Zayn knows he should shut the window to stop the cool air soon but he doesn’t want to, and rather lets the cool breeze whip his hair around his face. The buzz and commotion of the city in the distance makes him smile and he almost finds himself completely lost in the feeling. Then there is a faint knocking at the door.
“Hey.” Zayn turns and it’s Liam.
Zayn stands and moves towards the doorway. “Li, why are you here?” His eyes look down the span of Liam’s body, catching on the thick text book he is holding.
Liam blushes and his eyes are warm. A sort of devotion rushes through Zayn from the look Liam is giving him and Liam places the book labelled algebra carefully against the duvet. “It’s our homework; I marked the pages in yellow post-it-notes for you.” Liam explains and his fingers fumble with one another from nerves. “I... You weren’t focusing in class today; I thought you might want it.”
Zayn smiles fondly, picking up the book and flicking through to a page marked for him. His lips pull upwards at the hints and reminders Liam has left scattered across the page. (“Make sure you remember to flip the equation here, Z” and “Don’t forget to go back a page, and do those problems before you even attempt these, you smart arse”).
Zayn puts the book back down carefully. “Thank you.”
Liam’s face flushes pink, and Zayn can’t help but think why. Liam nods in understanding, before turning around ready to leave. “You’re welcome, Zayn.” And then he is gone.
Zayn doesn’t do his homework that night. He leaves it discarded on his rug and he sits by the window to watch the buildings in the distance.
Later, he falls asleep there and dreams of what it would be like to be so, so high above ground, like the skyscrapers that litter the city.
---
Zayn isn’t in first period the next day and arrives late to his second lesson. His hair is blown by wind, and clothes a mess around his frame. He sinks down quickly into his desk when he sneaks into the classroom and hopes nobody noticed his late entrance. But Liam sees him and gives him a look that says something like are you okay? So Zayn nods quickly and opens his text book and tries to ignore
Liam’s concerned glances for the rest of the lesson.
His friend doesn’t need to know where he was. Not yet. Not until he’s ready.
---
The reason he was late to class ends up being the reason he is late home the next night.
There is a hotel in the center of the city that’s bigger than all the others. Zayn knows the owner through his mum and one night at family dinner, Mark (the owner) told him to drop by whenever he pleased. He was given complete leeway.
The hotel is big but he knows his way and takes for the staircase beside the lifts. It is minutes of hopping and leaping around corners and holding onto banisters but soon he is standing beside the rooftop door, where he wants to be. He grins cheekily to himself and pulls the door open and steps into the cool afternoon breeze.
Before him there’s miles and miles of city, a concrete jungle. He stretches his arms out and lets the fresh wind hit against his body and then strips of his shirt and shoes, leaving them discarded by an air vent.
Zayn makes his way towards the edge of the building and takes care not to slip as he moves to stand on the platform. The air is cool against his face and hits against his chest but he doesn’t mind because it’s what he wants.
He lets his fingers move and trace across his tan skin until he presses them lightly against his shoulder blades and searches for new marks or growths.
Zayn thinks he feels something, a small bump maybe. He thinks silently to himself and watches the city before him move with late afternoon traffic.
They’re just invisible, hidden from the public.
They’re here, but they’re hidden.
When an hour passes, Zayn thinks he is not quite ready. Not yet.
His chest shivers from the cool air so he steps down from the ledge and goes home.
He leaves his phone discarded in the bottom of his bag and ignores it when it alerts him to two new messages. They can’t be important, he thinks, and, I’ll call back tomorrow.
But Liam waits for his reply and sits outside the theatre with a box of popcorn in hand. They are important.
Where are you? Then, I thought we were going to a movie tonight, I suppose not. See you at school Monday Zayn - L xx
---
Zayn sees the unread text messages on Sunday night, after coming home from his art class. He feels awful, and can’t believe he managed to forget him and Liam’s plans. He quickly texts back a small apology, hoping to rectify his mistake. Sorry Liam, make up for it soon? Z x
Zayn goes to his backpack, fetching his notebook and curls up on his bed under the sheets where the electric blanket is already on. His note book is brimming with new designs, but they are different from the others – they are pictures of him with wings, feathered and beautiful. Like an angel.
---
Zayn arrives to his third period Geography class considerably late on Monday. He falls silently in a chair beside Liam and pulls his text book from his back, turning to the front of the room. Liam raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “Where were you?”
Zayn blinks twice, and looks at Liam still sleepy. “Slept in, had a late night.”
“Yeah? Doing what?” Liam hisses back, clearly still annoyed about being ditched the Friday before.
Zayn tries to hide the guilt that shows, but fails and pouts his bottom lip in regret. “I had art class, I’m sorry. I got home late, and didn’t check my phone until then. I’m so sorry, Liam.”
Liam says, “Yeah, sure,” and turns back to the board, scribbling messy notes into his notepad.
Zayn frowns, turns, and tries hard to forget the absolutely devastating look that was Liam’s face as he learned he’d been forgotten. Because Zayn is sorry, he is. He’s just not sure whether he is sorry enough to apologize to Liam again, and hang out, or if he’d prefer to go home and check in his mirror for feathers that may have grown across his back over night.
---
That night, Zayn comes home and heads straight to his bedroom. He strips of his clothes quickly, dumping them on the ground and makes sure the curtain is drawn shut. In his mirror, he sees nothing, but as he runs his palms along his skin he swears it’s softer than usual, prickly maybe.
Feathers? He thinks, but there is nothing to show in the mirror.
---
On Friday, two weeks later, Liam picks up his backpack and walks to Zayn’s house in the pouring rain. He’s cold and shaking when Zayn opens the door (“Let me in, you idiot,” he calls and his voice trembles “it’s freezing out here!”). Zayn looks at him wide eyes, before he steps aside, and lets Liam inside.
They end up in the living room, fire roaring. Zayn is home alone, and goes to the kitchen while Liam dries in front of the fire. He gets them both a cup of tea, and balances them on a tray with biscuits when he brings them back into the lounge.
They drink in silence, and soon it becomes unbearable. Zayn turns, eyes curious. “Why are you here Li?”
Liam says, “You haven’t been in class recently,” and then, “and I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” Zayn says blankly, “Haven’t gone anywhere.”
Liam groans. “Exactly, I haven’t seen you in over a week.”
“Busy,” Zayn mumbles, and holds onto his mug tighter. “Had things to do—”
Liam interrupts. “What? Draw more angels?”
“No, I,” Zayn defends, but he knows it’s useless, “Look, I’m sorry, Li. I was busy.”
Liam looks over at him after a moment of silent consideration. “So how are you, really? You’re okay, yeah?”
Zayn looks up at him quickly before turning his eyes back to his mug. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Things are just hectic.”
“Let me help you then.” Liam all but whispers, his eyes sincere, “Please let me help you.”
“You can’t,” he says, point-blankly, “No one can.”
“I can try.” But Liam cuts himself off before he can finish, knowing too well Zayn is lost. Then he says, “Please Zayn, let me in.”
“Not tonight,” Zayn whispers. “I have... I have plans tonight.”
Liam gapes and looks out the window where the rain is still pouring heavily. “Where on earth could you be going tonight?”
Zayn smiles and thinks. He doesn’t have plans, not really, but he figures he could just go to the hotel and see if tonight turns out to be the night it happens. Maybe the feathers will show tonight, and he’ll have the wings he knows should be there. He doesn’t care about the rain. “Liam, it’s nothing. I’m just busy okay?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Liam mumbles, and Zayn knows he is hurt without Liam having to say so. “I guess I’ll see you Monday then, maybe.”
“Maybe,” Zayn confirms and misses the small look of disappointment that shows on Liam’s face as he talks. “I think you should go now Liam,” he pauses, “just for tonight.”
Liam frowns, his eyes dim. “Okay, sure, whatever.”
And then he is gone, and Zayn is already up, getting ready to go back to the rooftop.
---
He isn’t sure how he first got the idea to go to the hotel, but he knows the trips are worth it.
He doesn’t jump from the edge, not yet, because the wings haven’t shown. But maybe that’s why they’re not here? Maybe his wings haven’t shown because he is yet to jump, and they just need encouragement?
Still, he doesn’t jump. He’d die, right? Having no wings to save him?
Wings of an angel, that is.
But really, maybe all they do need is a bit of encouragement.
---
Zayn comes to class with bruises covering his body a week after Liam’s confrontation, and believe it or not he’s early.
He slips into a desk to the side of the room, beside the window, and looks out at the yard. Soon, the bell rings and students pile into the room. Liam is all but last, which is unusual, and he comes to his usual seat beside Zayn and pays him no notice.
Zayn says, “So, you’re not speaking to me anymore?” and faces the front. His fingers play with his pencil, and without thought he begins to scribble a pair of wings into the top of his desk. It’s a picture he’s memorized, stroke for stroke, and he knows that they are his wings he is drawing. They’re the wings that he’ll grow, eventually.
“No, I’m talking to you,” Liam mutters, his eyes focused solely ahead of him and watching as the teacher walks into the classroom. “I’m just not happy with you.”
Zayn huffs in frustration. “What did I do?” he asks, despite already knowing.
Liam turns in his chair, an unfamiliar look of discomfort frowning upon his face. “Y’know, I thought you’d actually be a mate here,” he says and looks at Zayn for any sign of recognition, but Zayn shows none. “When I moved here I had no friends, you knew that. But for some godforsaken reason you stayed my friend through everything, and actually paid attention to me.”
He pauses and tries to keep himself from backing out mid rant. “And now all I’m trying to do is understand Zayn. So please, let me just be a friend and understand what the hell is going through your head. Because I’m lost and can’t figure you out anymore. Please, just let me help.”
Zayn is quieter than usual. His eyes focus forwards and he tries to pay attention to where the teacher is dotting random literature across the blackboard, but instead all he can feel is Liam’s eyes trailing across the bruises that litter his arms and the black eye that shows beneath the beanie that’s been pulled low on his forehead.
Liam sighs. “Please Zayn, talk to me. Why are you so… hurt?” Zayn flinches when Liam reaches a finger forward to brush across a purple bruise big on his wrist so Liam pulls away quickly. “Please Zayn, just tell me.”
“I thought they needed encouragement… So at the top of the slide… I thought maybe they’d come if I was just airborne for a second. So I tried… but it wasn’t long enough. Not quite.” Zayn smiles slightly and reaches a hand forward to brush gently over the blemish Liam had tried to comfort. “Soon Liam, it’ll all be okay.”
Liam bunches his eyebrows in confusion. “What needed encouragement Zayn… Did you… jump off the slide—” The teacher hushes the two boys loudly from the front of the room, so Liam turns his voice to a whisper. “Zayn please, what are you talking about?”
A smile crosses Zayn’s lips and he looks back to his page where he’s finished the sketch of wings. They’re beautiful, he thinks, and can’t help but be impatient and want them now. “Soon Liam,” he whispers, folding the page over before it gets destroyed and slips it into his pocket.
“Soon what?”
But Zayn doesn’t reply, instead already having begun an equally beautiful sketch of a building, high, high above all the others.
---
When the school day finishes, Zayn wastes no time and leaves his gym class in a hurry. He changes out of his gym clothes in a rush, and hurries from the building before the buses have even begun pulling out of the turning circle.
He’s not weary of the people around him, not really. But Liam... He can feel his presence behind him unlike anything else. Zayn turns, his eyes dark. “What are you doing?” he asks, voice hard. “I thought I just... Liam I need time. Give it some time.”
Liam stands behind Zayn shocked and holds his backpack over his shoulder. “Zayn, I want to help,” he pleads, and his voice is scared. “I need you to let me help you...”
“You can’t though, don’t you get that?” Zayn all but shouts. He runs his hands through his hair and tugs on the ends in distress. “I need to do this alone Liam and there is nothing you can do to help me!” He turns to walk away, unable to look Liam in the eye.
But then, “let me come then.”
Liam’s voice is quiet amongst the chaos around them. Zayn turns, his eyes wide. “Come...?” he questions, although he already knows the answer. “You want to come with me?”
“Yes,” Liam says simply. “Please Zayn. Let me see where you’ve been going.”
“But you-- I can’t,” Zayn begins, before Liam steps forward and raises a finger to Zayn’s lips, hushing him.
“You can.” Liam’s eyes are bright, reassuring. “You can do this Zayn, please, just let me come with you.”
For a moment, all Zayn can hear is white noise. The sounds of students around them goes unheard, and all Zayn can focus on is the sound of harsh winds in the distance, and the feel of Liam’s finger as it presses against his lips, soft.
“Okay,” he says quietly, and Liam pulls his finger away. He thinks, yes, that’s what they need to grow. They need a show. The wings will definitely appear if Liam’s there to watch, and then, today’s the day. Definitely. Liam will see I’m more than just a friend... I can be an angel too.
“You can do this,” Liam says, and lets his hand rest agaisnt Zayn’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay Zayn. Just show me where you’re going.”
Zayn smiles, and takes Liam’s spare hand in his own as he turns to walk away, squeezing gently.
What Liam doesn’t realize though is that really... Zayn is about to show him much more than he bargained for.
---
“So, this is where you’ve been going all those days?” Liam asks. He raises his hand to brush hair from his eyes as the wind attacks. “Why here?”
“Because,” Zayn says, completely in his element. “It’s beautiful.”
Zayn hurries over to the edge of the building and drops his backpack. He steps up onto a cracked step and cranes his head high so he can see above the wall, where he has stood time and time before. Below him, he sees the city in large, skyscrapers towering above the shops that make up the mall. He can’t help but smile really, at what is going on around him. The sky is grey with clouds, the leaves on trees shaking violently with the howls of the wind.
It’s only when he feels Liam’s hand press firmly against his back, he flinches away from the wall.
“Why here though, why not the lookout?” Liam asks. He watches as Zayn steps back to his backpack, stripping of his shirt. Zayn drops the shirt carelessly by his backpack and takes his shoes off also.
“Because,” Zayn mutters as he struggles with the lace of one of his shoes, “this is destiny.”
Liam looks confused, his eyebrows bunching. “Destiny for what?” he asks, but Zayn is no longer paying attention, and moves towards the wall with the creaking step. “Zayn, please, destiny for what?”
Zayn turns around as he takes the final step up onto the platform. His eyes are beaming, his hair windswept. “This is the place it’ll happen,” he murmurs, the wind taking away his voice. “This is where it’s all going to change Liam. Just wait. It’ll all be over soon.”
Liam begins to worry, his feet carrying him closer to where Zayn stands above him. “You’re not going to jump, are you?” Liam’s voice wavers at the thought, his entire body stiffens with dread.
Zayn is quiet, and he stretches his arms open to let the cool air hit against him.
“I have to,” he says, his eyes closed. “It’s the only way. You’ll see in a moment, promise.”
“See what Zayn?” Liam says in a panic, stepping closer to where Zayn is. “Zayn, c’mon, you can show me without jumping.”
Zayn shakes his head softly. “No, I can’t,” he whispers, “Just wait here for me, okay? It’ll be okay in a minute, I’ll transform. Everything will be okay.”
“Transform into what?” Liam says in a panic as Zayn takes one step closer to the edge.
Zayn smiles brightly. “An angel.” And then he’s taking the final step forward, his smile still there. “I’ll be back in a minute. Promise.”
And two minutes later, when Liam is still standing alone by the edge of the building, unable to see the ground beneath him, he realizes Zayn would never keep that promise.
Because what Zayn never knew, wings or not, he was always an angel to Liam.
-fin