Killing You (Ziall)

Niall Horan has done the impossible. He's fallen for a killer.

Zayn Malik has one mission: to get rid of Niall and those close to him.

When these two conflicting interests collide, the pair of boys find themselves in a war between the heart and the mind. Which one will win depends on which emotion--love or greed--can win the battle.


5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 Zayn knew he was breaking every single rule he had ever set for himself by letting Niall free of the chains that had bound him. He was vaguely aware that he was experiencing a moment of weakness. This sort of thing never happened to him. He was a hardened killer. He had made sure years ago to rid himself of all "happy" emotions. The only things he could feel were emotions like greed, anger, and hatred. That is, before Niall came along and had to fuck up everything that Zayn had worked so hard for. He was a killer, not some damn romantic. 

All these foreign feelings were clouding up his thoughts, making him do things he would never do otherwise. More than once, he found himself smiling--yes, smiling--to himself whenever he thought of a certain boy with a blonde quiff and a heavy Irish accent. And it wasn't his usual masochistic smile dripping with sarcasm, either. No, this was more like a little schoolgirl grinning like an idiot around her first crush. Any other time, in his right mind, Zayn would've beat his head in with a brick for acting like such a bloody idiot. But with Niall's perfect face occupying his every thought, Zayn was definitely not his usual self. 

Zayn hunted through his jumbled thoughts, trying to remember things that Niall enjoyed from the file he had been given by Big Boss--BB, as he had grown fond of calling the man. He regretted his half-hearted skimming of the information now that he had gotten acquainted with the boy locked in his basement. 

Zayn now sat at the granite-top breakfast bar, drumming his fingers along the slick surface in a rhythmless tune.

Think, Zayn, THINK!

He looked around his spacious kitchen absently. Then it hit him. Niall loved food! Of course! Zayn would cook the little blonde angel a lovely meal to prove he wasn't all bad. 

He didn't want to leave Niall too long after their tense but friendly-ish encounter a few minutes ago. If he had any luck whatsoever, Niall was rethinking those cruel words he'd hurled at Zayn the day before. At the moment, he had Niall right where he wanted him. He'd have to hurry, though, or Niall's thoughts would no doubt drift back to when Zayn slaughtered Josh before his best mate's very eyes.

Zayn's thoughts drifted to the terrified look flashing through Josh's tear-filled eyes, the pathetic whimpers escaping his chapped lips, and best of all, the sight and feel of his warm red blood washing over Zayn's needy fingers. He cracked a smile and felt his hands begin to shake slightly with the lust for more blood. As soon as he realized what was happening, Zayn snapped himself out of it and stood from his seat at the bar. 


He had to show Niall he wasn't just some bloodthirsty murderer. His continuous thoughts of his next target and his constant need for freshly spilled blood screamed otherwise, but since Niall had come along, that need had lessened somewhat. He could literally feel something shifting in him. Zayn had yet to decide whether he liked the new feelings or not, but for now, he focused on Niall and Niall alone. 

Zayn got to work on preparing the grand breakfast he was to serve Niall. It was past breakfast time, but it was his favorite kind of food to cook, and he figured that Niall wouldn't care, as long as he was getting a hot meal. He had gone days already with nothing but water and whatever leftovers Zayn had felt like throwing to the boy, as if he was a pigeon on the street. Yeah, he definitely would be excited for a decent meal for once. 

Pulling the fridge open, Zayn peered inside at its contents, searching for inspiration. He removed some eggs, a package of sausage, orange juice, and the ingredients for pancakes. He was going to go all out, because that's how Zayn liked to do things. The stovetop finally heated up and began sizzling as the boy added a couple pieces of sausage. He was about to return the package to the big silver refrigerator when he remembered reading that Niall not only loved food, but he had a big appetite to go along with it. Zayn slipped his long fingers back into the plastic and grabbed a few more pieces of the oily meat and threw them in the hot pan. He got to work on scrambling the eggs until they were fluffy. He removed them from the heat and set the whole steaming pan in the microwave to keep them warm while he fried the pancakes. After scooping ladlefuls of pasty batter onto the greased skillet, Zayn took a step back and crossed his arms, waiting for the pancakes to start bubbling at the sides, indicating they were ready to be flipped. 

He had learned to be quite the cook in his few years of working for BB, considering he had to be locked indoors the majority of the day for fear he might be recognized by someone. Who Big Boss was afraid of, he wasn't sure. Zayn was extremely skilled at what he did and always made sure to clean up after himself, never leaving any loose threads that could connect him to the crimes. But he obliged his boss's wishes nonetheless. He knew if he didn't, BB would most likely have one of his creepy right-hand men after him in no time. Zayn may be good, but those men were better. Zayn wouldn't stand a chance against them. 

The pancakes were fried to a perfect golden-brown in no time, and Zayn began to look for something to pile the plates of food onto. A large wooden platter lay in the middle of the breakfast bar. It was usually for decoration, holding some cerulean marbles and a glass vase with a few fresh flowers arranged neatly within, but Zayn decided it would be the perfect serving tray for the food he had prepared. He dumped the marbles carelessly onto the countertop and watched as several rolled away and onto the floor. The flowers, he decided, could stay. Zayn shoveled spoonfuls of steaming hot eggs and sausage onto one white china plate and piled a stack of pancakes drizzled with Nutella on another. He wedged a glass of orange juice neatly between the two plates and nestled a napkin and fork under the lip of one of them. He silently thanked himself for picking out the platter with handles. 

Zayn's eyes quickly scanned over the food laid out at arm's length. He suddenly felt incredibly nervous. Would Niall even like it? He shouldn't have bothered. It was all for nothing. Stupid, stupid Zayn!

He felt a sudden flare of rage building up inside of him that made him want to smash the whole thing to bits on the floor. Zayn made himself take deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut tight. 'It'll all be fine,' he assured himself. Once the anger simmered down, Zayn made his way over to the door at the other end of the kitchen and brought the squeaky bolt across it, careful not to spill any of the food. He held the tray against his hip, much like he would a laundry bin, and fully opened the door. Once he crossed the threshold and was stood on the top step, he swung the door shut behind him and held the tray in both hands once again. 

The dark basement was silent--not that Zayn expected Niall to be making much noise. But what if the boy had escaped? Zayn's pace down the stairs quickened slightly. No, Niall still had to be here. There was no way he could have gotten loose, right? 

Zayn was in no way prepared for the sight he was met with at the bottom of the stairs. He halfway expected to find it completely empty, no trace of the Irish boy. He would've preferred that to the reality of what he saw. 

"Hello? Blon--" Zayn began to call out for the boy when he was stopped short by the sight of Niall, lying unmoving on the floor near his tool chest. Zayn's horrified eyes scanned the boy's body, landing on his favorite knife protruding almost mockingly from Niall's stomach. Blood was flowing mercilessly from the wound. It was everywhere. On the floor, on the glinting steel handle of the knife, on Niall's hands. Everywhere. Zayn was used to sights like this, but seeing Niall like this brought Zayn no pleasure. 

The tray Zayn had brought for the boy slipped from his hands and he vaguely heard the glassware shatter to the floor, but he paid it no mind. The only thing on his mind was Niall. 

"NO! OH GOD, NO!" Zayn screamed at the top of his lungs. This couldn't be happening. How could he have been so stupid? He never should have let Niall free of his shackles. He pushed all these thoughts from his mind, though and rushed to Niall's side frantically. He couldn't be dead, he just couldn't be. 

The older boy kneeled before Niall, not caring that he was getting blood all over the knees of his dark skinny jeans. All the mattered was Niall. Zayn couldn't bear the sight of the silver object stuck straight through Niall's delicate skin. Pinching his eyes closed, Zayn grabbed the handle of the knife and slid it from the oozing wound as gently as possible and tossed the blood-smeared object to the side. It skittered away across the cold floor, but Zayn would have to find it later. Right now, he had to focus on fixing this mess. 

Zayn reached his cold, shaking fingers toward the boy cautiously. He laid them gently on the pulse point on Niall's neck, where he should have been able to feel the pumping of blood. After a few seconds, he began to worry, feeling nothing. Zayn pressed his now-bloody fingers deeper into the flesh of Niall's neck and almost began laughing for joy when he felt a very slight flutter. Niall's heart was still beating, but just barely. He had lost quite a bit of blood already. 

Zayn carefully lifted the tattered remains of Niall's dirty t-shirt from his bloody torso and threw the ruined material to the side. He took in the sight of Niall's pale, muscular stomach painted a sickly mix of rusty red and bright crimson and almost choked. This was all because of Zayn. It was his fault Niall had tried to kill himself. Maybe he really was a monster. 

Zayn made himself stop with all the self-deprecating thoughts and forced himself to return to the situation before him. The hole in Niall's stomach was pretty deep, but as Zayn examined it further, he came to the conclusion that it hadn't lacerated any organs. It was a wound obviously inflicted by amateur hands. It wasn't fatal, IF Zayn could get him to stop bleeding in time. 

He looked around frantically for something to press to Niall's wound, but found nothing. Without further thought, Zayn quickly whipped his black t-shirt over his head and wadded it into a tight ball of fabric. He covered the gouge and applied enough pressure to ease the bleeding, but not so much that he would cause further damage. 

This was all his fault, Zayn thought once again. A strangled scream of frustration he hadn't even realized he'd been holding back escaped his lips and echoed around the deathly silent room. Why did he have to go and do something nice? That's why all this was happening. He should've just stuck to being the ruthless killer. That's what he was good at, after all. 

Zayn decided then and there that whatever it was he'd been trying to do, it had to stop. He was meant to kill Niall and the rest of One Direction, not befriend them or whatever the hell Zayn had been fantasizing about. He was a murder. Killing is what he did best. 

The words came tumbling from Zayn's mouth before his brain could even register them. "You're not getting out this easily, Blondie," he whispered darkly. "Your last breath will be spent when I say so. It will be me holding the knife, not you. I'm killing you, Blondie. I'm killing you." 


[ A/N: so there it is. Chapter 4. Just when you thought Zayn was getting somewhere...BAM nope just kidding!

It's a shit chapter, I know. Just a filler that had to come before the next ones to set them up. I'm sorrrryyyyy :'(  

Alright, I love you and I hope you like this chapter even though it's complete SHIT. xox ]

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