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Forever Young
Eighth
January 12, 2013
”Happy birthday, Zayn! – Keiko”
January 12, 2013
”Thanx – Zayn”
- - - - -
“In other news, remember when this picture of a very somber Caitlyn Walters leaving One Direction’s Los Angeles hotel surfaced the other night? Well, it seems the mystery behind the starlet’s woes has been solved. Her fling with the boy band’s Zayn Malik has reportedly come to an end after only lasting a few short weeks. Both Walters’ and Malik’s camps have yet to comment on this break-up,” explained the Hollywood gossip reporter.
- - - - -
January 29, 2013
“Can we talk?” – Zayn”
- - - - -
I paced back and forth in my living room. I fiddled with the frayed hems on my shorts. I braided my hair, and then let it fall only to braid it again. I picked at my chipped nails. I did whatever I could to not let myself sit idle.
For some reason unknown to my conscious self, I decided to torture myself and let Zayn Malik into my life for the third time. You know what they say; third time’s a charm. Right?
Ugh, why am I so pathetic?
Before I could dwell on that thought, the doorbell rang. As if being controlled by some invisible force, my legs pulled me out of my chair and straight towards the front door. I paused before pulling the handle open and told myself I had two options: I could really go and try to commit to making something work between Zayn and me work or I could open the door, say no thanks, and send him off on his merry way.
Let’s just say that when I opened the door, one of these choices was eliminated.
“Hello again,” he half-smiled.
“Hi there,” I replied, moving aside so that he could enter.
Without saying another word, I led him to the living room. I motioned for him to sit down on the couch, and stared at him for a good minute as he made himself comfortable. When he finally looked back up at me, I managed to ask him if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He asked for a glass of water and I gratefully excused myself to get him his refreshment and to let myself collect my thoughts in the kitchen alone. I don’t know about him, but I sure as hell felt anxious, wondering what exactly would be accomplished by the time Zayn walked out of my house that day.
After a few minutes, I walked back into the living room, apologizing and making up some random excuse how the water filter attached to my kitchen sink (my family doesn’t even own one, though) was acting up. Zayn just nodded and sipped the water, and I knew he was calling my bluff. Hell, the ant crawling around on the pavement outside of my front door could’ve called my bluff. I was being that transparent.
We sat in more uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes until I felt myself slowly begin to go mental. At which point, I decided to get on with the show and opened my mouth, “So, let’s talk, shall we?”
I shimmied forward in my seat across from Zayn and he mimicked the action, clearing his throat, “I don’t really know where to start, to be honest.”
I nodded my head slowly, “Right… but you’re the one who wanted to talk, so whatever it is you wanted to talk about, just go right out and say it. We don’t need to waste time with small talk.”
Zayn considered this for a bit, biting his lip, “Well, I want to talk about you and me.”
I waited for him to continue, but he just looked back at me as if he was waiting for me to say something. I just shrugged and nodded, “Alright, what about us?”
Again, Zayn took a little while to respond, taking little sips of his water here and there. Meanwhile, I bore my eyes into him, wanting so desperately for him to just spit it out. As he opened his mouth, I cut him off, “Please. Just tell me what you want.”
He shut his mouth again, locking his gaze on me. A few moments later, he turned away and bit his lip, “Well, first, I want to ask you to forgive me. When I look back at everything that happened, I cringe, you know? Like, I don’t know. I guess I should’ve defended you more or stood up for you or, I don’t know even the right word. But, do you understand what I’m trying to get at?”
He turned back towards me, waiting for what I had to say. (I tried not to fall into his brown puppy dog eyes.) When I didn’t make a sound, Zayn looked down at his lap and just like word vomit, it all came out, “Look, Keiko, I like you. I really do. You’re attractive, you’re smart, and you’re fun to be around. And, I didn’t really know how to handle liking someone like you. On one hand, I’m fighting with myself and trying to sort out these feelings and on the other hand, I’m fighting with management and the people who are in charge of my career. And, I never thought that I’d be in this position. The way I treated you has got nothing to do with you. It’s all me and my own problems and, unfortunately, it came out in the poor way that I treated you. I just want to say that I’m really sorry about everything that happened to you because of me.”
When he finished, his brows were furrowed and his right leg was bouncing furiously. I stared at him, in awe of how vulnerable he looked, and reached across the coffee table to touch his hand, “I forgive you.”
Zayn relaxed a little. Still looking down at his lap, he opened his mouth again; “I really do enjoy being with you, Keiko.”
“You’re not so bad either, Zayn,” I joked. I moved my head so that I could make eye contact with him, and when I did, I smiled at him, “You don’t have to be sorry for being human, you know.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up into a crooked smile, “To be honest, Keiko, I don’t really feel human around you.”
- - - - -
The awkwardness wore off quickly from that point in the conversation. We moved to the kitchen where I showed off my swift dialing skills and ordered some Thai take-out. We had approximately four hours to kill before my parents came home from work. (Yes, I’m among the lame population of college students who still live at home. Poke fun at me all you want, but I get free laundry, free room and board, and free food. Yeeah, buddy.) Zayn and I passed the time flipping through hundreds of channels, fighting over the last skewer of Thai chicken satay, looking at my baby pictures, and catching up on each other’s lives.
“I can honestly say that I’ve seen you naked,” Zayn had said when we came across a picture of my baby self in the bath.
“Wait, Lou did what?” I had asked when Zayn told me stories about the boys’ tour shenanigans.
It was honestly a really good time. It felt really normal. And, I shut out the little voice inside of me telling me to not get too excited about the new connection.
- - - - -
“That was really fun,” Zayn said. Paul was already outside in my driveway, and the two of us were trying to see how long it would be until he would come barging in to my house to pull Zayn away.
I nodded, “Yeah, it was nice.”
We heard a car door open and close, and the two of us ran to peek out the window by the front door. When we saw Paul approaching the front door, we looked at one another, defeated. I opened the front door, smiled at Paul and apologized, “Sorry, we couldn’t find his phone. It slipped between the cushions in the couch.”
Paul cocked his eyebrow at me, “I’m sure that’s why you two kept me waiting.”
With that, he turned around and headed back to the car, leaving Zayn and me on the front porch.
“I’ll call you later tonight,” he promised, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before following Paul’s footsteps.
But, after taking a few steps, he stopped and turned on his heel. He looked back at me and I at him. Then, he bounded back up the steps of the porch and stopped just in front of me. He bit his lip in the sexy way that he does and planted a sweet kiss on my lips.
When he pulled away, he looked straight into my eyes and said, “Fuck what management says.”
YOLO
”Happy birthday, Zayn! – Keiko”
January 12, 2013
”Thanx – Zayn”
- - - - -
“In other news, remember when this picture of a very somber Caitlyn Walters leaving One Direction’s Los Angeles hotel surfaced the other night? Well, it seems the mystery behind the starlet’s woes has been solved. Her fling with the boy band’s Zayn Malik has reportedly come to an end after only lasting a few short weeks. Both Walters’ and Malik’s camps have yet to comment on this break-up,” explained the Hollywood gossip reporter.
- - - - -
January 29, 2013
“Can we talk?” – Zayn”
- - - - -
I paced back and forth in my living room. I fiddled with the frayed hems on my shorts. I braided my hair, and then let it fall only to braid it again. I picked at my chipped nails. I did whatever I could to not let myself sit idle.
For some reason unknown to my conscious self, I decided to torture myself and let Zayn Malik into my life for the third time. You know what they say; third time’s a charm. Right?
Ugh, why am I so pathetic?
Before I could dwell on that thought, the doorbell rang. As if being controlled by some invisible force, my legs pulled me out of my chair and straight towards the front door. I paused before pulling the handle open and told myself I had two options: I could really go and try to commit to making something work between Zayn and me work or I could open the door, say no thanks, and send him off on his merry way.
Let’s just say that when I opened the door, one of these choices was eliminated.
“Hello again,” he half-smiled.
“Hi there,” I replied, moving aside so that he could enter.
Without saying another word, I led him to the living room. I motioned for him to sit down on the couch, and stared at him for a good minute as he made himself comfortable. When he finally looked back up at me, I managed to ask him if he wanted anything to eat or drink. He asked for a glass of water and I gratefully excused myself to get him his refreshment and to let myself collect my thoughts in the kitchen alone. I don’t know about him, but I sure as hell felt anxious, wondering what exactly would be accomplished by the time Zayn walked out of my house that day.
After a few minutes, I walked back into the living room, apologizing and making up some random excuse how the water filter attached to my kitchen sink (my family doesn’t even own one, though) was acting up. Zayn just nodded and sipped the water, and I knew he was calling my bluff. Hell, the ant crawling around on the pavement outside of my front door could’ve called my bluff. I was being that transparent.
We sat in more uncomfortable silence for a few more minutes until I felt myself slowly begin to go mental. At which point, I decided to get on with the show and opened my mouth, “So, let’s talk, shall we?”
I shimmied forward in my seat across from Zayn and he mimicked the action, clearing his throat, “I don’t really know where to start, to be honest.”
I nodded my head slowly, “Right… but you’re the one who wanted to talk, so whatever it is you wanted to talk about, just go right out and say it. We don’t need to waste time with small talk.”
Zayn considered this for a bit, biting his lip, “Well, I want to talk about you and me.”
I waited for him to continue, but he just looked back at me as if he was waiting for me to say something. I just shrugged and nodded, “Alright, what about us?”
Again, Zayn took a little while to respond, taking little sips of his water here and there. Meanwhile, I bore my eyes into him, wanting so desperately for him to just spit it out. As he opened his mouth, I cut him off, “Please. Just tell me what you want.”
He shut his mouth again, locking his gaze on me. A few moments later, he turned away and bit his lip, “Well, first, I want to ask you to forgive me. When I look back at everything that happened, I cringe, you know? Like, I don’t know. I guess I should’ve defended you more or stood up for you or, I don’t know even the right word. But, do you understand what I’m trying to get at?”
He turned back towards me, waiting for what I had to say. (I tried not to fall into his brown puppy dog eyes.) When I didn’t make a sound, Zayn looked down at his lap and just like word vomit, it all came out, “Look, Keiko, I like you. I really do. You’re attractive, you’re smart, and you’re fun to be around. And, I didn’t really know how to handle liking someone like you. On one hand, I’m fighting with myself and trying to sort out these feelings and on the other hand, I’m fighting with management and the people who are in charge of my career. And, I never thought that I’d be in this position. The way I treated you has got nothing to do with you. It’s all me and my own problems and, unfortunately, it came out in the poor way that I treated you. I just want to say that I’m really sorry about everything that happened to you because of me.”
When he finished, his brows were furrowed and his right leg was bouncing furiously. I stared at him, in awe of how vulnerable he looked, and reached across the coffee table to touch his hand, “I forgive you.”
Zayn relaxed a little. Still looking down at his lap, he opened his mouth again; “I really do enjoy being with you, Keiko.”
“You’re not so bad either, Zayn,” I joked. I moved my head so that I could make eye contact with him, and when I did, I smiled at him, “You don’t have to be sorry for being human, you know.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up into a crooked smile, “To be honest, Keiko, I don’t really feel human around you.”
- - - - -
The awkwardness wore off quickly from that point in the conversation. We moved to the kitchen where I showed off my swift dialing skills and ordered some Thai take-out. We had approximately four hours to kill before my parents came home from work. (Yes, I’m among the lame population of college students who still live at home. Poke fun at me all you want, but I get free laundry, free room and board, and free food. Yeeah, buddy.) Zayn and I passed the time flipping through hundreds of channels, fighting over the last skewer of Thai chicken satay, looking at my baby pictures, and catching up on each other’s lives.
“I can honestly say that I’ve seen you naked,” Zayn had said when we came across a picture of my baby self in the bath.
“Wait, Lou did what?” I had asked when Zayn told me stories about the boys’ tour shenanigans.
It was honestly a really good time. It felt really normal. And, I shut out the little voice inside of me telling me to not get too excited about the new connection.
- - - - -
“That was really fun,” Zayn said. Paul was already outside in my driveway, and the two of us were trying to see how long it would be until he would come barging in to my house to pull Zayn away.
I nodded, “Yeah, it was nice.”
We heard a car door open and close, and the two of us ran to peek out the window by the front door. When we saw Paul approaching the front door, we looked at one another, defeated. I opened the front door, smiled at Paul and apologized, “Sorry, we couldn’t find his phone. It slipped between the cushions in the couch.”
Paul cocked his eyebrow at me, “I’m sure that’s why you two kept me waiting.”
With that, he turned around and headed back to the car, leaving Zayn and me on the front porch.
“I’ll call you later tonight,” he promised, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before following Paul’s footsteps.
But, after taking a few steps, he stopped and turned on his heel. He looked back at me and I at him. Then, he bounded back up the steps of the porch and stopped just in front of me. He bit his lip in the sexy way that he does and planted a sweet kiss on my lips.
When he pulled away, he looked straight into my eyes and said, “Fuck what management says.”
YOLO
♠ ♠ ♠
Ugh, last week was super busy so that's why this one was a little delayed! Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me your thoughts about Keiko & Zayn!Here's Keiko's outfit for this chapter.
xoxo