One Direction One Shots

This is a collection of my One Direction one shots. Every time I get a new one written I will upload it as a chapter or two here :)


4. Fix Me { Zayn Malik not-famous }


Got the idea for this one shot while I was in London's tube. It's a bit weird and might not be that exciting, but I just decided to write it down in a note on my phone anyways. Hope you guys like it. Oh, and by the way I'm sorry for any spelling/grammatical mistakes, I haven't had the time to read this through so there might be a few!



The train bumped in a shaky pathway on the rails as I pulled out my ear buds from the small hole in my iPod, making the music in my ears stop blasting within the moment. With a pressured movement I dropped the music player alongside its ear buds securely down in my small bag. The seat beneath my thighs felt warm against my skin, but even in the heat of the late summer night the presence of it felt nice. Better feel too hot than too cold, right? 

It was one o'clock in the morning, and the darkness of London's underground tunnels made everything around me look just a bit scarier. Being alone in the last wagon of a train can be a bit lonely, but right now all I really wanted was some company...To keep me from the shadows. 

Until half an hour ago I had been at my friend Alexandra's flat, but when I'd realized just how late it had gotten I'd hurried to the nearest underground station. I had to be at my brother and his fiancé's brunch the next morning, and if I didn't get some rest soon I would definitely not be able to make it through the day. 

"The next station is London Bridge," a woman's voice coolly spoke over the train's speakers, making me jump from my seat and hurry to the nearest set of doors on my right hand side. There was no need to waste more time, so I might as well just get up from the underground as fast as possible.

The view of a station's yellow and white tiles flashed in front of my eyes and soon enough the train decreased its speed, stopping perfectly and in a smooth movement at the platform that was almost emptied of people. The doors slid open as the woman's voice once again spoke: "London Bridge. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform." 

But apparently someone hadn't listened nor comprehended the last part of the woman's mechanically spoken words, as just when I was about to step out of the train, a shadow of a foreign man took character as he fluctuating moved towards my wagon, his foot getting stuck in the empty space between the train and the platform and tripping over his own jelly legs just as he approached the carriage. 

His fall didn't take me by big surprise, but I still couldn't stop myself from taking a small step back in startle when he stumbled over the small edge of the train and into the almost clear wagon. 

Stepping out on the platform I bit my lip in curiousness, my forehead suddenly furrowed in worries lines. The man behind me was lying helplessly on the floor of an empty train carriage, close to passing out because of his heavy downfall and the alcohol that apparently had infected his blood - and the worst part was that no one was there to care for him. Shouldn't I, just for once, try to be a good person and aid him? 

I took a quick decision and jumped back onto the train just as the doors started closing. 

I could get off sometime within the next few stations. 

"Mister?" I said, kneeling down at his side and gripping tightly onto the yellow metal bar beside me as the train went back into movement. "Are you all right?" 

When his face slowly turned from the floor to look at me, I raised my one eyebrow in surprise; I hadn't expected him to be that young.  

Nor that handsome. 

His plump lips were turned downward in a small frown when he put a hand to his forehead, carefully rubbing a sore spot on his upper skull's tanned skin. The hair that once had been a styled, black quiff was ruffled up, some parts of it lying in cascades of sweat on his forehead. His hazel eyes bored through mine as he finally discovered me sitting by his side. 

By his looks I guessed that he was just about my own age, but his state of health made him look like he was years older. He was worn-out, a complete mess; but still he managed to look like the most beautiful person ever. 

"What happened?" he asked out of nowhere, his blank eyes uncomprehendingly searching for the underground station that by now had been past us for long. His eyes went wild when he grasped for my hand, gripping tightly onto it at soon as he found it. "Where am I?" 

"You fell when you tried to enter the train." I gave his hand a single squeeze. "That's where you are right now. Now let me help you, okay?" I slipped an arm around his muscular shoulders, aiding him in getting up from the floor with a bit feverish gesticulations and some awkward pulls and movements of my body. When I at last got him thrown down in one of the many empty blue seats he put a hand to his pumping forehead, letting out a resigned moan.  

I placed my bottom in the seat beside his, staring awkwardly out into the air as his head turned to face me. Sitting beside someone attractive in a train without staring at them had never been harder. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't seem to be," I spoke slowly in clean sanity.  

His eyes went blank, overtaken by the darkness. "That's because I'm not. But I don't expect you to understand." 

His words hit me harder than they should have. But who was I to judge anyway? This stranger’s whereabouts shouldn't be on my mind. 

"At least I could try to," I say with a sigh, finally glancing over at him. Something had happened to him and the curiosity in my chest was starting to show. "All you have to do is explain." 

He turned away, an almost scornful smirk playing on his lips. "You really don't wanna listen to my bittersweet life story. You don't have to pretend you're interested in getting to know me." 

"What makes you go to the conclusion that I don't want to get to know you?" I asked with a small smile. This foreign guy somehow captured me...was it strange of me to think that he actually was a nice guy? He may be drunk and a tad repulsive, but at the same time everything about him made me think that he was just another labeled and misunderstood person, thrown away into the trash can by the people around him.  

And maybe he was. But right now he was talking with me like he didn't have a care about the world passing us both by in a blur. 

"What's your name?" I asked, fiddling with the sleeve on my warm, oversized sweatshirt. How could a situation this uncommon make me nervous? I had lost track of myself. 

"I wanna know yours first," he spoke, his voice suddenly a lot more secure and tone so much more serious. 

His eyes found mine. I smiled. "It's Emma." 

His only reaction was a simple nod. "I like it. Your name. The sound of it." It was like his drunken state suddenly overwhelmed him once more; his sentences got shorter and he spoke in cuts, his voice changing into something that could've been off pitch every now and then. 

I tried to catch his attention by a cough. 


"And yours was?"  

An almost miserable frown showed in the lines of his gorgeous facial features. "It doesn't matter. I'm a nobody." 

I shook my head in disagreement. It wasn't possible for a guy like this to be a no-body. If there was one thing I was sure of, then it had to be how these thoughts of mind weren't just per-consumptions. "Don't say that." 

He raised his one eyebrow in a sigh. "Without her I am." 



"That's not a very good answer." 

He let out a melodramatic chuckle. "It's a cliché, really. Boy met girl, you can guess your way to the ending. Oh, and in case you're wondering why I'm sitting here like this, you don't need too many clues before you know it's all because of her." 

I swallowed. Talking about an as sensitive and emotional subject as his lost love had never been my intention. But I still couldn't ignore the lingering question in my mind: Had he become an honest drunken mess just because of the empty promises of one girl? 

I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer. 

I jumped when a foreign ringtone pinched through the air. The captivatingly gorgeous boy beside me quickly pulled up a shabby iPhone from his pocket, ignoring his incoming call with a simple tap on the screen. Just before he slipped it back into his pocket, my eyes caught sight of the blurry, white letters on the back of his blue phone case: Belonging of Zayn Malik. 

A smile that was barely visible formed on my lips. So that was my drunken strangers name. 

"Do you remember which station you're getting off at?" I silently questioned in an almost soothing voice.  

"I can't."  

"I could help you-" 

"Why are you doing this?" he all of a sudden blurted out, his dark hazel eyes filled with something that I couldn't quite put my finger on ... and even though I didn't want to realize it, it might just have been amusement.  

He leant forward, resting his torn and dirty knuckles on his knees. I raised an eyebrow when he let out a tad crazy chuckle. "Y’know, a simple drunken guy on the metro station in the middle of night." He wrinkled his nose as he took in the scent of his clothes. "Most people wouldn't even have looked at me, they would more likely feel disgusted." 

Now it was my turn to laugh. "How can you be so sure about that?" 

The subject changed quickly and shortly afterwards to a direction I maybe wasn't that comfortable with when he changed position in his seat and looked at me. "You're a pretty girl," he calmly told me, eyeing me from head to toe with a look that was anything but uncaring. 

Or undesirable. 

"No," Zayn went on, like he was speaking to himself and not to another person. His tongue flickered out to moisten his pink lips as his eyes slid up to meet mine in a close-held gaze. "You're actually more than that," he noted, slowly removing his hand to my face to caress my cheek that even in my resistance slowly started flushing. 

I was genuinely so surprised that a guy like him would show affection towards me that I went numb, unable to move. 

He gently cupped my chin, and before I knew it his eyes had fallen to my lips. "A rare kind of beauty." 

When he leaned in and closed the last space between our lips an odd feeling surrounded my mind. Everything about the situation was wrong, but still I couldn't force myself to turn away. This guy was probably only looking for some comfort and affectionate caring by another human being, and I was able to give him that. 

His pink lips felt balmy against mine as he deepened the kiss with an unknown passion - and I let him.  

Without myself realizing it my hand sneaked around his neck and pulled him closer in a harsh movement. What was I doing? What had happened to me? 

Then I realized that I hadn't ever been able to stop myself. If he did the first move, I would obey within the moment. 

And that was exactly what I had done, wasn't it? 

Zayn was left dumbfounded when I pulled away suddenly. For a brief second a confused crinkle showed on his forehead, but then the light of a wonderful smile took over his face. "You're amazing, you know?" 

This guy really knew how to mess with my head - and it wasn't just the good way. It was like each sentence he said built up the wall of confusedness in front of my eyes just a tad taller. But still I could feel myself blush slightly, like I took his saying as some kind of compliment, and in pure wonder I raised my one eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?" 

He didn't answer my question. Instead his captivating, beautiful dark eyes slid down to my hand lying on the black plastic armrest between us. I watched his face turn to solicitude as he with the hint of a smile let his fingers intertwine with mine. 

And again, I let him. 

"Please go out with me." 

This was going too fast. Thirty minutes earlier he had been a drunken stranger and now he apparently was some kind of love interest asking me out. This damn cliché felt like an original Hollywood movie. Except it wasn't. 

I started to protest. "But-" 

"We just kissed. You can't possibly say no." The smile playing on his lips was now invincible. He'd had the whole thing planned, didn't he? Right from the first time his blurred eyes caught sight of me he had wanted to do this. 

Any thinkable reason of why not to accept this guy's request whizzed through my brain all within a few seconds. Yes, he was more than cute, but I desperately needed something to cover up with; an excuse. "I don't know you." 

He held the eye contact strongly. "But you will." 

I barely shook my head. "That's still not a good enough reason." 

This time he didn't have anything immediate to shoot back with. He'd lost his breath, as if he was trying hard to pull his scattered thoughts together into one piece. Something was surely on his mind, and now he was picking up his courage to tell me. 

"Fix me." 

His words were kind of unexpected for me to hear. I had been unprepared of him speaking again, but now I could slowly feel something burn up inside me. If my guessing was right he was probably referring to the fact that he was actually broken. Getting drunk every night because of some lost love who didn't even think twice of what she was losing. I would never let a guy like Zayn go. He was too perfect for anyone to deserve him. 

To my wonder it didn't surprise me when I heard myself say, "I'll try." 

When the doors of the tube slid apart next time the last impression I got of my surroundings was a beautiful boy and his lips slowly nearing mine once again.

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