Fragile

The cup of tea slipped from my hand and crashed to the ground, sending hot tea and shards of glass in various directions from the point of impact.

“W-who are you?” I stuttered, backing away, my lower back hitting the counter.

“I could ask you the same question,” he said softly, staring into my eyes with his shining brown orbs.

He looked away from me and looked around the apartment. “Lou! Are you here?”

I heard Louis shifting on the couch. My knees were wobbling, trying to keep my body up.

“Y-yeah,” he called out tiredly.

“Good. Should I be worried about the bird in your apartment with the wide blue eyes who looks like she’s about to fall over?”

Louis’ eyes widened as walked briskly toward me, tripping slightly. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes.

“It’s alright, Di. This is my mate, Zayn. He is harmless, and he would never hurt you. He just looks like a bad boy, but, in reality, he’s just a big teddy bear,” he smiled at me.

I relaxed a little and tried to breathe.

“Really, Lou? Did she have to know that?”

He shot Louis a glare, but it softened as he smirked. Louis threw an arm across Zayn’s shoulders. “Of course she did, Zany!”

After the words left his mouth, Louis ran, and Zayn chased after him.

“I thought I told you to never call me that again,” he said as they slowly rounded the table.

“Seemed to have slipped my mind.” Louis grinned and continued to get away from Zayn. Louis was faster than him and he was losing until Louis collapsed to his knees, holding his head.

We both ran over to him, concerned looks conquering our features.

He was curled up into a ball, his chest heaving. His face was pale, and sweat was beading along his forehead.

“L-Louis? Are you okay? This isn’t funny. Come on! Look at me. Say something,” said Zayn frantically.

Zayn’s hands were shaking as he tried to find out what was wrong with Louis. He let in a breath and decided to carry him to the couch. By that time, Louis seemed to relax and tried to sit up, but Zayn’s hands held him back.

“You scared the shit out of me, mate. There is no way in hell you are getting up. Now sit down. You, go and pour another cup of tea,” he ordered.

I did as he said, gracefully stepping on multiple pieces of glass. I bit back the pain as a piece lodged itself into my skin, making blood seep through my sock. Gathering the tea, I swiftly made it into the living room, bringing with me a trail of blood.

I handed the tea over to Zayn with shaking hands.

“Thank you, erm…I never really got your whole name. Unless you want to be called Di,” he said, trailing off.

My head was starting to feel light as I processed his words. “Umm, I-it’s Diana,” I replied languidly.

“Are you okay?” Zayn looked me over, his eyes landing on the blood that was pooling next to me from my foot.

“No, you’re not. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you bandage that up instead of doing what I asked? Here, come with me,” he said, grabbing my wrist.

The thoughts flooded back into my mind, and I flinched away from him, ripping my arm from his gasp.

His eyes bore into mine. They were worried. He held his hands up.

“Look. I won’t hurt you. Just…Just come with me so that I can stop the bleeding. I promise that nothing bad will happen.”

Slowly, I started following him, making sure not to step on the foot with the glass stuck in it. He took me down a dark hallway, and my breath began coming in gasps as my heart ran out of my chest, afraid to help me face what was ahead.

We took a slight right into a wash room. He flicked on the light and grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet under the sink.

The room was fairly large, its walls welcoming; they were a light tan color. The rest of the room was splashed in whites and browns of varying degrees.

Zayn motioned for me to sit on the toilet seat. That was when I really looked at him.

He was tall and slim, his dark skinny jeans perfectly clinging to his legs. He was wearing a fitted black shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing various tattoos. The swirls of what he loved most clearly displayed like a book on his arms. They were the words of an artist, the emotions I understood clearly. There was pain held behind the many shapes. My mind was fixated on the meanings, the reasons, behind them.

His hair was styled messily, the dark black strands finding their own place on his head. His jaw was sculpted like a statue, the sharp lines beautifully constructed as if by the most skillful hands. He had dark eyelashes that brushed his cheekbones, covering the glimmering brown eyes that had flecks of amber scattered throughout the large, puppy-like portals to the soul.

My eyes fell to his simple suede boots as I lifted my foot off of the ground. He kneeled on the floor and plucked the shard of glass from my foot with the large plastic blue tweezers that came with the kit. I gripped the sides of the toilet and held back a scream. He looked at me apologetically as he gently pulled the sock from my foot.

The blood was flowing slower than before as he cleaned the wound out. He gently wrapped a bandage around the cut after making sure there weren’t any stray pieces of glass in my skin. He carefully placed everything back in the first aid kit and put it back in its rightful place under the sink.

I sat on the seat as I watched him move to discard the bloodied materials. He washed his hands slowly. Once he turned off the sink, he turned around to look at me.

“What happened to you?”

I didn’t expect those words to flow from his mouth. I remained silent for a while, contemplating that answer. The simple answer would be that I didn’t know myself. I went out, and reality finally hit me in the face. I was stupid for being alone. I deserved what came to me.

I felt a hand wipe at my face. I jumped at the contact.

“Sorry, you were crying,” he said softly.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault. If anything, it’s mine. I…I just don’t want to talk about it right now. I’m still not ready,” I replied, leaving out that I still didn’t know everything.

“Is that what you think?”

The question caught me off guard again. Why was he asking these questions? Why wasn’t he giving up like everyone else?

“Because, if that’s the case, then you shouldn’t think that way. I can guess what you’ve been through just by the bruises on your arms. It took me a bit longer to realize it, but I figured it out. I know enough to assume that you’ve been taken advantage of. I know that you’re probably thinking you deserve it, but no human being deserves that. Anyway, I will respect your wish to not talk about it, but sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell someone, and if not me, then Louis. Louis…it’s crazy…I’ve never seen him more taken by a girl. His eyes haven’t been that bright in a long time,” he said, trailing off.

I looked down, my face turning pink. How could he have guessed that? Why does he even care? I guess he was right. I did need to talk to someone.

“Thank you,” I replied simply.

Suddenly, Louis was swaying at the door with a panic stricken face. He looked like something was tearing down his whole world.

“What’s wrong, mate?” Zayn ran to his friend to steady him.

“I-I saw s-something,” he said.

“What was it, Lou?”

“I-it, it’s coming. H-he’s coming back. The m-man, w-with the s-scar,” he managed.

I gasped and placed a shaking hand over my mouth. He couldn’t come back. Why would he? What did he want with me? I was just another girl he tried to fucking rape. Why in the hell would he keep coming for me?

“What do you mean? How do you know?” I asked, visibly shaking.

“T-the image played in my h-head. He’s coming for a-all of us.”

“Louis, listen to me, it has to be nothing. You can’t just say something like that without proof.”

“B-but, Zayn, it felt so real,” he said, shaking.

Zayn looked into Louis’ eyes, probably seeing the same thing I did: the truth. Louis looked pained. I was scared, but Louis needed the both of us. I felt myself limp toward his vulnerable body and slip my arms around him, enveloping him in a hug.

He felt so cold as opposed to last time, but sweat had plastered his fringe to his forehead. His blue eyes were filled with fear.

“I’m scared,” he breathed into my neck.

“I know. I am too,” I replied, tightening my grip on his body.

Zayn and I carried Louis out of the bathroom and into the living room, placing him on the couch. He had calmed down, and his skin was gaining some of its color back.

“Lou, what aren’t you telling us? She deserves to know if it involves her.” Zayn’s voice filled the room.

“I can’t tell you right now. I’m not even sure if this is all true. I’m just trying to sort everything out. And stop invading my thoughts. I thought you agreed that you wouldn’t do that," he said, his eyes widening as he realized what words escaped from his lips.

What did he mean by 'invading my thoughts'?

“You know it’s true,” he said. Then he looked at Louis, his brown eyes boring into blue.

They looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other. Finally, Louis broke the silence.

“Diana, I think we need to talk. All of us. Including the other boys. W-we have something that we want to tell you, or show you rather,” he said slowly.

I looked at the both of them, confused as to what was going on. They weren’t making any sense. I plopped down on the couch and stared blankly ahead, unwilling to speak.