The Boy Who Could Fly Without Wings
1/1
”I’m going to fly.”
That had been the first words the blonde haired boy had ever said to him. The raven haired boy had been surprised by the blonde’s bluntness and his way of speaking to sincerely even though it was just a statement. The shorter male had truly wanted to fly; Zayn saw it in his eyes. How the blue orbs lit up at the words, at the dream he’d revealed to the stranger. Maybe he was the first one to know, Zayn had thought, fascinated by the way the sentence came out so hopeful, like it contained the greatest words.
“What do you mean?” Zayn asked.
The slightly cold air were biting on his ears, stinging the skin with its brisk way of flowing past. They stood beside each other on the bridge, looking down on the water rushing below. The look of longing appeared on the pale skinned boy’s face; Zayn noticed when he studied him.
“I just want to feel the wind against my face without having my feet on the ground. I want to let go.” he said with a small smile, meeting Zayn’s eyes for the first time.
<><><><><>
The next time Zayn met him, the Irish lad was drunk. Long gone in his drunken state, almost unconscious from the toxic liquid he had consumed through the night, as he stumbled across the lawn. It was a shame, Zayn thought, that the small so innocent-looking boy was so stupid. Stupid enough to let his mind be clouded with alcohol, making him unable to form even one coherent sentence. Maybe one audible word or two managed to struggle past his thin, chapped lips.
It had only been a couple of weeks since they had met on the bridge as complete strangers. Zayn still remembered the blonde’s first words to him. It was like they were engraved on his chest, he couldn’t let go of the sentence that had flowed out of the other’s mouth with a small smirk upon his features.
“I’m-“ The blonde begun, a small smile gracing his lips before he continued to slur. “Gonna fly soon.”
Zayn had stayed with him that night, with a promise that he wouldn’t leave. He wasn’t sure if the drunken lad would remember it in the morning. Maybe his words would be forgotten and long gone with the alcohol and Zayn would be left with a hung over teenager. But he had promised.
<><><><><>
Zayn had stayed with him, not just over the night, but for weeks, even months. Leaving the boy wasn’t an option, he’d rather stay. And he had even remembered the promise, and had made sure that Zayn swore that he would never leave.
Being friends with Niall wasn’t easy; it was rather difficult to deal with his slightly bipolar behavior. Zayn would often describe Niall as a thinker; the blonde could stay within his thoughts for hours. Zayn was sure that if you leaned in close enough, you could hear the cogs working inside his brain.
Niall would call him more than often, slur into the phone, telling Zayn how much he hated his mum. Zayn knew that Niall’s mum wasn’t the best; she’d rather spend her money on expensive clothes to herself and liquor than food and clothes for his son.
<><><><><>
People were cruel, at least in Zayn’s opinion. He’d woken up more than ten times of tapping on his window, a bloody and destroyed Niall on the other side of the glass. The younger never complained though; he would simply crawl underneath the warm covers in Zayn’s bed and cry himself to sleep against Zayn’s chest. The alcohol reeking from his mouth, the smell spreading through the room. Zayn didn’t mind though, he only held him closer.
When Zayn would wake up, Niall would be gone. A note would always be taped on his mirror, apologies messily scribbled on the light blue paper. And when they met the next time, Zayn wouldn’t mention it. He would let it pass and wait for Niall to return outside his window with a split lip and a black eye.
Before Zayn had made the decision to let every visit in the middle of the night pass, he would ask what was wrong, why people did this to him. Niall would tell him to mind his own business. He did. But he would never forget.
<><><><><>
On the outside Niall’s family had looked perfect. Diamonds decorated his mum’s neck and earlobes. Expensive wine stuffed in a cabinet in the basement. Perfect house and perfect garden but no one had seen the cracks in the surface. Underneath all the perfection, the family was wrecked. The wine was replaced by filled vodka bottles which were empty before you could count to ten.
Ear rings and necklaces would be taken off; handprints on her skin would be visible in the morning. Wondering how it could end up like this. He would lay his fingers on her, painting her like a canvas, covering her with purple paint. Tears would leak out of her eyes as she’d cry herself to sleep while the father would lay unconscious on the sofa, empty bottles lying at his feet.
Niall could hear them, the screams, even the whimpers. Drowning in the guilt because he wasn’t strong enough to save his mother from the monster who was supposed to be his father and his mother’s lover. Not her reason to break, to be miserable.
<><><><><>
The first time they kissed was awkward. Their teeth bumping together and tongues messily working against the other. Hands traveling over smooth skin, eyes closed. There were no fireworks, simply only a tingly feeling in the pit of their stomachs.
The sex wasn’t less awkward, but it seemed perfect to them. At least to Zayn. He could never forget the expression of Niall’s face as the pale boy lay underneath him in the grass. So beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. Eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar, nostrils flaring with each breath as Zayn slowly eased into him.
Zayn fell asleep with Niall in his arms, when he woke up, Niall was gone.
<><><><><>
It had been almost four months since Niall had talked about flying when he’d brought it up again. They stood at the exact stop where they met for the first time. The bridge with the water running underneath. Cold and dangerous.
“What do you think it feels like?” he’d asked.
“What?” Zayn had replied confused.
“Flying. Just imagine.”
“I don’t know, I don’t really think I want to.” Zayn said with a shrug.
“I think it would feel amazing and don’t you worry, I’ll be flying soon.”
<><><><><>
Zayn found Niall on the bridge, after a panicked call from the Irish boy’s mum. He was curled up on the concrete, wind whisking his dyed blonde hair, messing up the strands of hair that had never been perfect.
Zayn sat down silently beside him, wrapping his arms around the shivering form. This wasn’t really how he wanted to find Niall. He’d rather found him outside his window, tapping on the glass once again. But this time without any visible injuries, because they both knew how torn he was inside.
“It’s really scary…” Niall whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Zayn asked quietly.
“Everything.”
Zayn held Niall closer, pressing the smaller teen to against his side, letting his lips fall to his hair. Aware that Niall would mostly protest if he’d lifted him to place a kiss to his chapped lips.
<><><><><>
The second time they had sex was better, not as awkward. The kisses weren’t as messy as they had been before. Teeth barely touching as their tongues wrestled between their moist lips. Hair disheveled and clothes messily strewn over the floor.
Zayn had ended up with red lines from Niall’s nails, all over his back. Love bites decorated Niall’s shoulder neck, the dark botches engraved on his pale skin.
Once again, Zayn fell asleep with his arms around Niall’s petite body. When he woke up, Niall was gone. Again. And Zayn was sick of it. Sick of being treated like shit. He didn’t speak to Niall for nine days.
<><><><><>
Zayn was woken up in the middle of the night, the shrill tone of his phone echoed through the room. Searching blindly on the bedside table, Zayn flipped the phone open without looking at the ID.
“Hello?” Zayn said groggily.
“I need you.” Niall sounded desperate.
“I’m sleeping.”
“Please, I need to talk to you.”
<><><><><>
Zayn found Niall on the bridge again, perched on the ledge, feet dangling in the open air. It’s dark outside, the only thing that provided any light was the streetlamps. Doesn’t need more than that, Zayn thought as he rested his elbows on cold edge.
“Sit here.” Niall patted the spot beside him.
Zayn climbed up. Sitting down beside Niall, Zayn studied the blonde’s face. He looked happy. The last time he saw Niall’s eyes so lit up was the first time they met. Right on this spot.
“Do you remember when I told you about flying?” Niall asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I asked you what you thought it felt like.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to imagine anymore.”
Zayn looked down, not wanting to meet Niall’s eyes if he’d turn his head. Niall’s voice was wrecked, so broken. But longing was evident in his tone.
“We could- we could do it together, Zayn. You and me.”
“Niall, no.”
“Why not?” Zayn could see Niall turn his head in the corner of his eye.
“I love you.” Zayn whispered.
“I love you too.” Niall said back. “I really mean it.”
He did mean it; Zayn could see it, hear it in his voice. It was nothing but sincerity when Zayn met his tear filled eyes. Niall reached out for his hand, and Zayn took it, held it firmly in his grasp. Never wanting to let go. The water rushed beneath them, disturbing the silence.
Niall leaned in closer, breath blowing against Zayn’s face as they looked at each other. Then Niall smiled and whispered in his ear.
“Let’s fly.”
That had been the first words the blonde haired boy had ever said to him. The raven haired boy had been surprised by the blonde’s bluntness and his way of speaking to sincerely even though it was just a statement. The shorter male had truly wanted to fly; Zayn saw it in his eyes. How the blue orbs lit up at the words, at the dream he’d revealed to the stranger. Maybe he was the first one to know, Zayn had thought, fascinated by the way the sentence came out so hopeful, like it contained the greatest words.
“What do you mean?” Zayn asked.
The slightly cold air were biting on his ears, stinging the skin with its brisk way of flowing past. They stood beside each other on the bridge, looking down on the water rushing below. The look of longing appeared on the pale skinned boy’s face; Zayn noticed when he studied him.
“I just want to feel the wind against my face without having my feet on the ground. I want to let go.” he said with a small smile, meeting Zayn’s eyes for the first time.
<><><><><>
The next time Zayn met him, the Irish lad was drunk. Long gone in his drunken state, almost unconscious from the toxic liquid he had consumed through the night, as he stumbled across the lawn. It was a shame, Zayn thought, that the small so innocent-looking boy was so stupid. Stupid enough to let his mind be clouded with alcohol, making him unable to form even one coherent sentence. Maybe one audible word or two managed to struggle past his thin, chapped lips.
It had only been a couple of weeks since they had met on the bridge as complete strangers. Zayn still remembered the blonde’s first words to him. It was like they were engraved on his chest, he couldn’t let go of the sentence that had flowed out of the other’s mouth with a small smirk upon his features.
“I’m-“ The blonde begun, a small smile gracing his lips before he continued to slur. “Gonna fly soon.”
Zayn had stayed with him that night, with a promise that he wouldn’t leave. He wasn’t sure if the drunken lad would remember it in the morning. Maybe his words would be forgotten and long gone with the alcohol and Zayn would be left with a hung over teenager. But he had promised.
<><><><><>
Zayn had stayed with him, not just over the night, but for weeks, even months. Leaving the boy wasn’t an option, he’d rather stay. And he had even remembered the promise, and had made sure that Zayn swore that he would never leave.
Being friends with Niall wasn’t easy; it was rather difficult to deal with his slightly bipolar behavior. Zayn would often describe Niall as a thinker; the blonde could stay within his thoughts for hours. Zayn was sure that if you leaned in close enough, you could hear the cogs working inside his brain.
Niall would call him more than often, slur into the phone, telling Zayn how much he hated his mum. Zayn knew that Niall’s mum wasn’t the best; she’d rather spend her money on expensive clothes to herself and liquor than food and clothes for his son.
<><><><><>
People were cruel, at least in Zayn’s opinion. He’d woken up more than ten times of tapping on his window, a bloody and destroyed Niall on the other side of the glass. The younger never complained though; he would simply crawl underneath the warm covers in Zayn’s bed and cry himself to sleep against Zayn’s chest. The alcohol reeking from his mouth, the smell spreading through the room. Zayn didn’t mind though, he only held him closer.
When Zayn would wake up, Niall would be gone. A note would always be taped on his mirror, apologies messily scribbled on the light blue paper. And when they met the next time, Zayn wouldn’t mention it. He would let it pass and wait for Niall to return outside his window with a split lip and a black eye.
Before Zayn had made the decision to let every visit in the middle of the night pass, he would ask what was wrong, why people did this to him. Niall would tell him to mind his own business. He did. But he would never forget.
<><><><><>
On the outside Niall’s family had looked perfect. Diamonds decorated his mum’s neck and earlobes. Expensive wine stuffed in a cabinet in the basement. Perfect house and perfect garden but no one had seen the cracks in the surface. Underneath all the perfection, the family was wrecked. The wine was replaced by filled vodka bottles which were empty before you could count to ten.
Ear rings and necklaces would be taken off; handprints on her skin would be visible in the morning. Wondering how it could end up like this. He would lay his fingers on her, painting her like a canvas, covering her with purple paint. Tears would leak out of her eyes as she’d cry herself to sleep while the father would lay unconscious on the sofa, empty bottles lying at his feet.
Niall could hear them, the screams, even the whimpers. Drowning in the guilt because he wasn’t strong enough to save his mother from the monster who was supposed to be his father and his mother’s lover. Not her reason to break, to be miserable.
<><><><><>
The first time they kissed was awkward. Their teeth bumping together and tongues messily working against the other. Hands traveling over smooth skin, eyes closed. There were no fireworks, simply only a tingly feeling in the pit of their stomachs.
The sex wasn’t less awkward, but it seemed perfect to them. At least to Zayn. He could never forget the expression of Niall’s face as the pale boy lay underneath him in the grass. So beautiful, almost too beautiful to be true. Eyes closed, mouth slightly ajar, nostrils flaring with each breath as Zayn slowly eased into him.
Zayn fell asleep with Niall in his arms, when he woke up, Niall was gone.
<><><><><>
It had been almost four months since Niall had talked about flying when he’d brought it up again. They stood at the exact stop where they met for the first time. The bridge with the water running underneath. Cold and dangerous.
“What do you think it feels like?” he’d asked.
“What?” Zayn had replied confused.
“Flying. Just imagine.”
“I don’t know, I don’t really think I want to.” Zayn said with a shrug.
“I think it would feel amazing and don’t you worry, I’ll be flying soon.”
<><><><><>
Zayn found Niall on the bridge, after a panicked call from the Irish boy’s mum. He was curled up on the concrete, wind whisking his dyed blonde hair, messing up the strands of hair that had never been perfect.
Zayn sat down silently beside him, wrapping his arms around the shivering form. This wasn’t really how he wanted to find Niall. He’d rather found him outside his window, tapping on the glass once again. But this time without any visible injuries, because they both knew how torn he was inside.
“It’s really scary…” Niall whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Zayn asked quietly.
“Everything.”
Zayn held Niall closer, pressing the smaller teen to against his side, letting his lips fall to his hair. Aware that Niall would mostly protest if he’d lifted him to place a kiss to his chapped lips.
<><><><><>
The second time they had sex was better, not as awkward. The kisses weren’t as messy as they had been before. Teeth barely touching as their tongues wrestled between their moist lips. Hair disheveled and clothes messily strewn over the floor.
Zayn had ended up with red lines from Niall’s nails, all over his back. Love bites decorated Niall’s shoulder neck, the dark botches engraved on his pale skin.
Once again, Zayn fell asleep with his arms around Niall’s petite body. When he woke up, Niall was gone. Again. And Zayn was sick of it. Sick of being treated like shit. He didn’t speak to Niall for nine days.
<><><><><>
Zayn was woken up in the middle of the night, the shrill tone of his phone echoed through the room. Searching blindly on the bedside table, Zayn flipped the phone open without looking at the ID.
“Hello?” Zayn said groggily.
“I need you.” Niall sounded desperate.
“I’m sleeping.”
“Please, I need to talk to you.”
<><><><><>
Zayn found Niall on the bridge again, perched on the ledge, feet dangling in the open air. It’s dark outside, the only thing that provided any light was the streetlamps. Doesn’t need more than that, Zayn thought as he rested his elbows on cold edge.
“Sit here.” Niall patted the spot beside him.
Zayn climbed up. Sitting down beside Niall, Zayn studied the blonde’s face. He looked happy. The last time he saw Niall’s eyes so lit up was the first time they met. Right on this spot.
“Do you remember when I told you about flying?” Niall asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I asked you what you thought it felt like.”
“I know.”
“I don’t want to imagine anymore.”
Zayn looked down, not wanting to meet Niall’s eyes if he’d turn his head. Niall’s voice was wrecked, so broken. But longing was evident in his tone.
“We could- we could do it together, Zayn. You and me.”
“Niall, no.”
“Why not?” Zayn could see Niall turn his head in the corner of his eye.
“I love you.” Zayn whispered.
“I love you too.” Niall said back. “I really mean it.”
He did mean it; Zayn could see it, hear it in his voice. It was nothing but sincerity when Zayn met his tear filled eyes. Niall reached out for his hand, and Zayn took it, held it firmly in his grasp. Never wanting to let go. The water rushed beneath them, disturbing the silence.
Niall leaned in closer, breath blowing against Zayn’s face as they looked at each other. Then Niall smiled and whispered in his ear.
“Let’s fly.”
♠ ♠ ♠
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