Years ll

"Just answer this one question. Did you even love me?" The tone of scaredness laces her question waiting for my answer.

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4. Chapter 4

Zayn's POV:

I never had the intentions of telling Kiera that. But thank god, something is cheering me up. 

Katy's in my lap and laughing as I'm tickling her. I never knew this about her and I just figured this out. 

"Zayn!.....please stop! I'll do anything!" she screams with laughter in her voice. I stop and flip her around so she is facing me. 

"Anything?" I ask raising my eyebrow. She huffs, in thinking what any other guy would say if a girl said that to them. 

"Yes, I guess anything." She says looking at me. 

"Kiss me." I whisper in-between our faces. 

"Okay, you could have just said that." She smiles biting her lip. Hey, that was my thing. 

She leans closer and I clasp her cheeks in my hand, closing the gap and her lips on mine. 

 

Katy's POV:

Zayn caresses my face in his palms making my lips brush his at first, then him coming in more forcefully and taking control. 

My empty hands at my sides but soon act as I notice he has abs, really nice abs. My hands touch his chest as they slip up his shirt and I can feel the warm, tan lines and bumps under my fingers. 

His tongue drags along my bottom lip, asking for entrance and I give him the answer. Both tongues explore each other once again and my hands still pressed against his chest, his on mine waist. 

His fingers start fiddling like mine, and soon enough he is slowly rolling my top up. 

"Nuh-uh. Not today Zayn." I smile at him, kissing his nose. 

He groans as I totally pull away from him, and move to the side. I'm not even close to ready for that. 

He turns on the television trying to ease off of my denial, when I notice the light purple marks on his knuckles. They're less purple than the first time and I didm;t the explanation for them. 

"Zayn, why do you have bruises on your hands. It was like you were figh-" I gasp at my own discovery. 

"Zayn! Were you fighting?" I ask him, standing in front of him. 

"No...well not recently." He asks tilting his head different ways to see the show but I get in the way every time.  

"So you were!" 

"I said not recently!" He complains back at me. 

"Zayn tell me now!" I demand. 

Zayn fighting gives me the chills. I mean I know he can fight but I don't like the idea. I don't wanting him getting hurt. Purple and black marks littering his beautiful face, is hopefully never gonna happen. 

"It was nothing, it was when thatguyattheclubtouchedyou." He mutters really fast. 

"What?" I ask sitting in front of him. 

"It was...um...when.... at The Roof, that guy. I broke a couple bones in that guy's body."

"His nose or something?" 

"Well that, jaw and some ribs."

"Did you get arrested?" It can't be that, because we spent the next day together. Wait, it was like late at night? 

"No, no one saw."

"So, you fought him, broke his nose, jaw and ribs and it was illegally?!" 

"Babe, calm down. I was doing it for you. You shouldn't be treated like that, so I showed him his consequence. Look, you're not hurt, I'm not hurt, and we will never see that scumbag again." He says reaching my wrist, taking it and bringing it toward him; causing my body to jerk forward. He takes me in his arms and brushes my hair. It doesn't really help since the way he's hugging me, but its the thought that counts. Right?

"Just please don't?" I say after a few minutes of just hugging. 

"Yea." His answer didn't seem promising but I'll take it. 

"NO!" I hear a high voice yell. Kiera. The scream sounded of scaredness. 

We both run into the room she was in and Niall was there.  Talk about awkward. 

"Sorry, for distracting you guys. I'm fine" Kiera says but rubbing her hands over her eyes. I pull Zayn away and he actually follows. We try to drown out their conversation but it doesn't really help. They sound like bickering adults ready for divorce. 

We go out to the garage and talk, kiss and paint some more on the walls. 

"Zayn, we barely know each other, tell me about your childhood and every thing." He gives me a weird look and keeps painting. 

 

Niall's POV:

"You still have to take Jonah to the football game. You promised." She tries to say strongly. I can tell. Did I really make her this weak? If only she knew what I was feeling. 

I should have just never called dibs on her, just grew some balls and asked her out. But of course I have to do something and later it comes back and screws up. 

"I know, but I'll only go if you go." I say, trying to get this relationship back on track. 

"Well I guess.....he just won't go to the game." Well that took me by surprise and hijacked my statement. 

"Kiera, please." I say reaching for her hands, and taking them in mine. 

"NO!" She yells, I've never seen her like this, and it scares me. A couple seconds later Zayn and Katy come in the room, worried looks on their face. 

"Sorry, for distracting you guys. I'm fine" Kiera rubs her eyes, and she's tired. Not from lack of sleep or anything but from this. Me trying to talk to her mostly. 

They walk out of the room, and I hold her hands again. 

"Please, it was a mistake, I never should have done that. I'm sorry for breaking you, I can show you I'm sorry, if you just trust me again." I say in front of her. This is how much I love her begging. If it gets her back to me, I'm all for it. 

"No, I'm sorry. I just can't let that happen again. Not anymore." She says crying. I get up and each my hand out to her face, to brush away the unwanted tears but she backs away. 

I need something to convince her. Something she loves. That's it! I sprint up her stairs with her following me yelling my name and to stop. I barge in her room and grab the guitar in the corner and sit on her bed, looking at her when she comes in. 

She gasps, and this was one of her favorite things of mine, my voice. I have no clue why she liked it so much, but whenever I sang, she always complimented me on it. 

I take my eyes off of her, and notice everything different. 

The pictures on her mirror-gone. A couple pictures ripped in half on the floor, phone pieces scattered in a small pile on the floor. My football jersey on her bed, next to me. With stains on them, I touch them lightly and their wet. Her tears. I caused her this. 

This beautiful young girl in front of me, broken. Crying. Miserable. All because of me. 

My fingers start strumming without me fully noticing whats going on. 

"So your friend's been telling me
You've been sleeping with my sweater
And that you can't stop missing me
Bet my friend's been telling you
I'm not doing much better
'Cause I'm missing half of me..."

 

 

 

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