(Niall and Zayn)
When bestfriends Simran & Mollie meet two boys on the tube, will something more become of it? Or will heartbreak be the only thing left?


Will their past change the future? Will their future affect the present?



14. Morning

***Simmie's POV***

I wake up to the sunlight streaming in the curtains, bathing me in a soft glow. I can feel my duvet wrapped around me. Under my head lies a rock solid pillow. A moving pillow. I look up and see Zayn's sleeping face. His face is so relaxed and content, he's sleeping with a smile on his face. His long inky lashes fan out along his cheekbones, shining in the light. Looking at his face for a moment longer, I realize I should get up. Extracting myself from his arms will be a problem. His arms are wound so tight around me, I feel protected. It's amazing how my broken rib hasn't been crushed some more with sleeping like this all night. Untangling his fingers I manage to escape, feeling the cold air brush against my skin. I tuck him back in, his face contorted into a scowl where I moved away. Luckily he remains asleep. Padding across the apartment I grab a tee of the pile and my pair of Levi's from the room as well as some clean undies from the drawer, not caring they match. Carrying on into the bathroom, I lock the door and strip. Grabbing a towel of the rack, I hang in on the door and hop in the shower.


After doing my mundane morning routine, I towel dry my hair, wrapping the damp yet curly strands into a ponytail, not bothering to straighten it, and step into my Saturday clothes. Saturday's the miscellaneous day. I get up, make breakfast, do the grocery shop and clean the apartment. Today, I gathered would be different. Brushing my teeth and re-drawing my face, I unlock the door and put my clothes in the wash bin. Checking on Mollie, I creep into her room carefully as not to disturb her. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I could see two figures in her bed. Hers and Niall's.

Remembering she's eighteen and free to do what she wants, I creep out before I follow the urge to shake her awake and ask what the hell she thinks she's doing. But then I see her tee shirt peeking out over the covers and realize that nothing happened. Phew. Retracing my steps out the room and softly shutting the door behind me, I go back into my room where I search through the Bolton drawer of my dresser. Pulling out an XL tee I normally sleep in and a pair of sweats, I shut the door and traipse to the bathroom again. Setting them on the toilet lid, I grab a new toothbrush and a bottle of shaving cream with a new disposable blade for Zayn from under the sink in our small yet modernly monochrome bathroom and leave them on the counter by the sink. Creeping back to the kitchen, I see Zayn still asleep his fingers curled in a vice grip around my duvet, which was pulled up to his chin.


I got myself some breakfast ie a banana from the fruit bowl on the side and put the kettle on. Whilst the kettle boiled, I got a mug out of the cupboard and put a tea bag in it. Wandering over to the fridge, I retrieved the milk and picked up a table spoon and the sugar pot. Setting everything on the breakfast bar, I realised I wasn't drunk last night, only buzzed, and that's how everything was out away last night. Smiling at the thought while I made my tea, I heard a soft groan. Zayn was awake.
"Morning sleepyhead." I said with a genuine smile, "do you want some tea?" "Mmhmm" was the grumbled reply I got back as he stretched the kinks out in his neck and back. Reading his mind, I say cheerfully,"the bathrooms just around the corner. Feel free to use the shower. I've put the stuff I think you'll need in there." He smiles his thanks and gets up to go. He turns around to pick the duvet up but I stop him halfway. "Don't worry about that," I say, "I'll sort it out in a minute." He looks at me and then the duvet, wondering what to do. I smile at him and he smiles back, dropping the duvet on the floor and turning in the direction of the bathroom. In a few moments, I hear the water run and the kettle boils again. While the kettle boils, I pick up my duvet and return it to my room, and then focus on his cuppa.

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