Finley Abbott and Liam Payne were inseparable since they were little kids. Fast forward to 2012- as they finally meet again. This time, Liam and his bandmates are internationally famous and tour worldwide.
Finley thinks she's got all of Liam's mates figured out, all except one. Zayn Malik.


7. what is he hiding?





Finley's POV


   I had just got around to thinking that maybe Zayn Malik wasn't such a dick after all. Naturally, that abruptly changed.

   With tour finally over, the boys started dispersing home. Harry and Louis headed back towards Cheshire and Doncaster, Niall flew home to Mullingar, Zayn was probably going home to where ever the hell he was from.

   Zayn was still left on the bus with us, and he'd spent the entire drive sleeping, sprawled lazily and not even stirring. At one point of the trip, Louis and I had taken markers and started drawing all over his skin, which he still hadn't noticed. Zayn had a nice moustache now.

   As the tour bus arrived in Wolverhampton, Liam and I pressed ourselves to the window, taking in the sight of our hometown with hungry stares.

   The bus pulled up out infront of Liam's old house- and I felt the memories of our childhood wash back over me.

   "We're home!" yelled Liam, tossing his backpack over his shoulder and literally jumping out and running to his house. It was a small, modest little place. I smiled as I followed, watching as his mother greeted him with a warm hug.

   "Ruth," I said as I popped up behind Liam who was grinning broadly. His mother's gaze flickered to my face, and I immediately saw the reproach and shock in her eyes.

   "Finley?" she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, before she dropped it quickly, looking guilty as though she should have been more tactful. "It's...nice to...see you again."

   Clearly, it wasn't.

   "Zayn! Lovely to see you sweetheart," exclaimed Ruth, brushing past me. Zayn? What was he doing? I turned around confused, but Liam took my hand and pulled me inside the house.

   "Finley, Zayn's staying with us a while," he explained in a hushed voice as he watched his mother and Zayn talking friendly, like they were all hunky-dory.

   "What?" I demanded, "Why? Isn't he going home?" Liam shook his head, avoiding my eye. Ruth took our stuff and started to distribute them in our rooms- one for Liam, one for me and apparently one for Zayn.

   Zayn frowned at me as he stepped inside the house.

   "Is she staying here too?" he asked Liam, acting as though I wasn't there. I was pretty proud of that moustache I'd drawn on his face. Ruth obviously must have been convinced it was real.

   "Yeah," Liam said firmly, "Finley's living here for a while until she finds a place." The confusion in Zayn's face made me feel like he wanted to ask, but he just shrugged and walked off, his face still covered in Louis and I's doodles.

   As Zayn disappeared in to his new bedroom, I turned quickly to Liam.

   "Li, you've got to promise me you're not going to tell him about Dean," I said in a hushed tone. "He- he can't know. No one can know." Liam's mouth crinkled into a line, and he pulled into a tight hug that smelt like fresh bedsheets and Lynx deodorant.

   "I promise," he mumbled into my ear, pulling away and patting my butchered hair. His eyes hovered at it expectantly. "On that subject, we should probably fix up your hair." I smirked and shrugged.

   "We should probably haved fixed me up a while ago," I replied, "But I guess better late than never." He gave me a wry smile, before his mother popped up again. She spared me a concerned look, before she was whispering quietly to Liam in a hushed tone. I took the hint, and slunk off down the corridor. I didn't know which room I was in, so I thrust the first door open on my right.

   I caught sight of Zayn sitting on his bed, something cupped in his hands as he leant over, breathing in deeply. As soon as the door had been flung open, he jerked up quickly, nearly dropping the object, his cheeks flushing a dull red. His eyes looked wild, his pupils dilated until nearly the whole of his eye was black. My breath caught in my throat in recognition.

   He coughed hoarsely, before finally managing to rasp at me,

   "What the fuck are you doing?"

   "Nothing," I blurted, my eyes darting from side to side, looking for an out. "Sorry I was looking for my room and-"

   "Get out!" he snarled.

   "Sorry," I gasped, grabbing the door and slamming it shut after me. I froze for a moment, leaning against the wooden frame. It took a while for my mind to realise that I knew exactly what he was doing. I'd seen Dean bent over and doing the same thing a few times before.

   A glass bottle, bubbling liquid and a nauseating gas rising up the mouthpiece. I'd just seen Zayn smoking.


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