Maybe

(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?

Maybe.

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

Maybe.

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31. My fallen angel

***Simmie's POV***

I race into our apartment, slamming the door behind us. Leaning our backs against the wall, I look at her from the corners of my eyes. I sigh, finally letting the breath I was holding go. Turning my body around to face her, I chuckle. My chuckle turns into full out laughter, pushing myself off the wall. Mollie just looks  at me, her face of bemusement painted on. I roll on the sofa laughing. Mollie starts to walk away from the door, towards her room.

The apartment falls silent, we hold our breath and Mollie freezes as the door gets so violently beaten, it moves. Frozen in place for a few moments, I look at Mollie  Raising a finger to my lips, signalling silence, she nods her head at me. Reaching the door, I look through the peephole. Seeing two men in black hoodies, hood up, I get ready to fight.

Opening the door, questioning myself as to why I did it, the two men push past me, one going towards Mollie and the other standing in front of me.

Growling at them, they both look at each other before ripping off their hoods. Zayn and Niall. Phew.

I glance over at Niall. He's rubbing his hands over Mollie, panic etched on his face as he frantically asks her if she's okay. I look at Zayn ahead of me.

"How did you find us?" I asked him, genuinely concerned.
"Mollie invited us." He replies coming closer towards me. I look at Mollie and she just shrugs her shoulders at me.
"Who is he?" Zayn asks angrily, running his hands over my body, checking for injuries. I push his hands away, angry myself.
"It has nothing to do with you." I say crossing my arms over my chest.
"I think it does." He angrily replies.
"I can fight my own battles. I don't need someone to fight them for me. I've had it with men thinking that they need to know everything about everyone so they can fix it. You can't fix this and you sure as hell can't fix me." Not giving him a chance to reply, I storm off to my room.
***
Walking into my room, I shut the door behind me. Grabbing a pair of cutoffs, I strip of my tee and skinny jeans, discarding them on the floor. In my underwear, I pull my shorts up, not bothering to button them over my black boxers. I'm not going to think about what happened, I sternly remind myself. I walk past my full length mirror, catching a glimpse of myself. Walking back to my reflection, I see my rib cage.
 

Sighing to myself, I analyse below my plain black T-shirt bra; several bruises stand out, angry blacks and blues against my caramel skin. A lump stands out on my back and I twist my body to see it. More bruises coat my back, surrounding the bone. I never told Mollie.

Pondering on how I should tell her, I twist back around, hands on my hips. Just as I walk away from the mirror, my bedroom door is forced open. I wish I locked it.
"Did he do that to you?" He accuses angrily, pointing to my rib.
"Pushing for an answer isn't going to get you anywhere."
I say reaching for a tee shirt, to pull over my bra.
I can feel him watching me, his eyes almost branding me. I level him a look, letting him know he's not forgiven for what he did. Crossing my arms over my chest, I notice the material has been washed too many times that it's actually shrank. And pretty much see-through.
Great.
The move causes my shirt to rise to show him my navel and the waistband of my boxers. I can see him looking at the band of skin exposed, never looking away from it.

After a few minutes of me glaring at him, he looks up at me and inches closer.
"Baby, princess, I worry about you." I hug my arms closer around myself.
"I know it's not my place to say, but baby, I need to know you're okay." He looks me in the eye, desperation on his face. "Please." He adds begging.

"What about the girl from Little Mix? What about the girls who throw themselves at you every concert?" I ask him. "I need to know. I need stability, trust and fidelity. I'm not accusing you of cheating, I need the truth."

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair while I roll my eyes.
"Perrie and me; we're not a couple. It's a publicity stunt, gets us both more fans. It's hard to date, it's too risky with fans. Yeah, girls do throw themselves at me. And the other boys; Louis and Liam, they have girlfriends and they're fine with it." By this point, he's in-front of me, reaching for my belt loops to pull my closer. Laying my hands on his chest, I push him onto my bed.

Not forgiving just yet, I climb over him; my hands either side of his head, my legs either side of his.
"Yes it's not your place to say but I do understand where you're coming from. But look at it from my point of view. I don't want to talk about what happened between us but him and I....lets just say we fought." I say, my brow creasing and my lip being bitten again. Suddenly turning playful, not wanting to return to the serious conversation, wink and add, "but I won."

Zayn smiles up at me and gosh, he really is a sight for sore eyes. His hair's fanned out slightly, creating a small halo over my patterned bed sheets. My fallen angel.

Leaning down over him, our noses touching, he asks me if he's forgiven. I whisper that he is against his lips. He smiles against my lips before he kisses me, long and slow. His hands work up my legs, to the hem of my shirt. His fingers run delicious havoc on my back, his nails scraping my skin. My hands go under his head, my fingers grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He moves further up, everything was the waist down touching. My body was in flames. He rolls me over so I'm pressed flat on my bed. I wrap my legs around his waist before playfully nipping his lip. Rolling myself back on top, he pulls away.
"So you want to play like this?" He says with an impish grin.

He rolls me back over, and pushes me from my hips up the bed, kissing my navel. As soon as my ankles were on the bed, he drags himself up, straddling me as he goes. He sits back on his haunches, looking at me.

Reaching up for him, I rope my arms behind his neck and pull him down to me. His face millimeters from mine, I kiss his cute little button nose before flipping him over me. Pushing us both up the bed, I thread my fingers through his. Using his hands, I drag his arms up above his head, pressing our bodies together. My legs were once again straddling his waist, on my knees. Dragging his body up my his hands, I'm effectively sitting on his lap while he leans back like the king he is (Malik meaning 'king' in Arabic), his arms folded behind his head; biceps straining, his tee pulled taut over his body.
"I'm sorry princess for acting like I did." He looks down, his long inky lashes creating shadows on his cheeks. "I've never felt like this before. When I saw you with him, I-" I cut him off with a kiss. I feel the same way. I can't tell him so I pour it into a kiss.
 

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