Brook’s Pov - Flash forward.
I sat there in the bed, with my arms around my self, it was odd being back here. Getting ready for a wedding that for the first time was not going to be my own.
Liam walked in the room shirtless with a cup for me.
“You don’t know how much I have missed you” he smiled, and sat down next to me.
“Have you spoke much to the others?” I asked, and he shook his head.
“I only got the invitation to the wedding… just like you, I haven’t seen the others since you … you know” he spoke, and I nodded.
“You are better now aren’t you?” he asked me, and I smile weakly at him and nod. “Good… and thanks for coming to stay with me and not anyone else” he smirked.
“Well your the only one that came to see me often enough” I shrug.
“How often did Zayn visit you…” he asked me.
“Not often enough…” I begin, I stand up and move to the window, with my back to Liam, who watched me. “He came for the first two weeks every day, then for the next two it was twice a week, then it became once a week and an “I’m sorry” phone call, then one every two weeks, and then just a letter, and then he didn’t see me… and you know why” I spoke.
“He broke you again, huh?” he asked me.
“No, not this time” I say.
“I have a question for you” he whispered, walking behind me, and letting his hand trace up my arm I turned to face him slowly.
“Yes?” I asked him.
“When you said… never mind” he shook his head and turned from me.
“Liam, what is it?” I asked him.
“You said marriage wasn’t for you, and you don’t think you’ll be in love again… do you still mean it?” he asked me, and I shook my head softly.
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because its good to know I have something to work for” he smirked up at me, with light chocolate eyes.
“Something to work for?” I asked him.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the way I look at you” he said to me.
“Liam, you know how sick I have been, I have barely noticed the seasons changing around me, how am I suppose to notice the way you look at me?” I asked him.
“Because I look at you with complete and utter adoration, my dear” he smiled at me. “And Brook?… About Zayn, I know deep down you know its best for yourself, but I also know you hate the thought of him being with her”
End of flash forward.
Three days had passed and I had another counselling session. Zayn hasn’t asked about what Harry asked me, or we spoke about, or even why he saw me in his arms. He knew to leave it, and I am glad he did.
We were all in the kitchen, discussing the next counter attack. Hope hasn’t spoken a word to James whilst I have been around. - In fact, it’s almost like James doesn’t exist anymore, he comes and goes as he pleases, which makes things easy for me and Zayn, though Flo is still a reassuring problem.
“Zayn, would you guys take a break or something?” I say, and he looked over.
“We are nearly done now, babe” he spoke to me.
It had been hard to get any sense out of Zayn for the past few days, his head had been so stuck into this whole situation that it was hard to get even an ounce of attention.
“You’ve been working at it for days” I sighed, and walked over sitting at the table all the boys were huddled around.
“Perfection takes time, Brook… I thought you would of known that” Flo spoke from the doorway with a cigarette in her mouth, she walked passed me and walked around to stand by Zayn, on her ripped skinny jeans and her low cut shirt.
“Well, are you at least going to tell me this perfect plan?” I asked snarling.
“There is no need for that, you’ll get in the way” Flo muttered.
“Excuse me?” I stood up straight and walked towards her.
“Why don’t we step outside?” Louis asked me, and I looked to him, as his arm was in front to start me, and then Zayn looked over, and I raised my eyebrows, even he wasn’t going to tell me?
“No, I’m done” I muttered to him, and shrugged his arm away, walking up the stairs.
It’s late afternoon in the house that was meant to be a fresh start for me and Zayn. The fresh start now involves the past, and its a shameful how we have to change just because new people are in our lives.
i sat in the room that offered me condolence, if anything it made me feel worse, so I grabbed some shoes walked down stairs, and grabbed the keys opening the front door.
“Where are you going?” Zayn jumped out and asked me.
“I don’t be here right now” I snap.
“Why?” he asked me.
“I don’t want to see Flo throwing her self at you and making me feel like shit, you are telling me anything, this is more my problem than yours” I snarl at him.
“Flo is just being friendly” he defended her.
I was getting pretty sick of that to.
“Yeah well she can take her being friendly, because I don’t want it” I say.
“Brook, would you just stop” he spoke getting angrier with me by the second.
“Why, i’m not needed her anyway, clearly” I say.
“Brook-..” he sighed stepping forward, but I step back clutching the keys in my hand.
“I will be back later” I say, and walk out the door.
“You know one day when you walk away Brook, I am not going to stand here like a fucking fool begging you to stay” he shouted out the door at me, and I turned around in the light rain.
“I don’t ask you to” I shook my head, before walking to get in the car away from the trouble that had been caused at the hands of me again.
Maybe if I did just leave them, they wouldn’t be in danger, they wouldn’t be so pained my the vicious words that left my mouth.
I drove around in the car for a while. Not sure where I was going.
I drove to the old house which was Zayn’s and I had soiled it with my presence.
It still hadn’t been sold, and I still had a key. I opened it up and walked inside, the carpets had been ripped up so cold concert lay beneath my feet, the wall paper was ripped and tattered. The house was cold as my breath turned into the steam, with rose.
I walk into the living room, and I sighed to myself. Looking around the room which once held happy times, and bad ones, it was like nothing ever lived here. Like this was a barren waste land where love, happiness and hope went to die.
I saw on the floor a photograph, and I wish I could say it was of me and Zayn being happy, or the boys all laughing whilst caught of guard.
It was me.
Me and Harry.
In the picture we stood on a beach, and it from the days we ran away. One I had kept, and never showed Zayn. I picked up, and wept. Wept for the boy who’s heart I broke, and he was now breaking mine in return. I hated the feeling. The feeling of nothingness, it was like tears had no meaning because I had cried to many.
I had no right to be sad.
I left him, for a boy that barely breathed with out me by his side.
Yet, I still cried, for in the photo, Harry’s skin was soft, his hair pushed back with that scarf I had given him, his tattoos weren’t a dusty black like they are now, they were bold and perfect, a little bit like him in that way.
The edges of the photo were tattered and worn, the photo was even dusty, yet the smiles in that picture will be forever carved into my memory.
When years pass, and I have pushed him to far so he is sat in a broken down hotel room with bottle of whiskey in his left hand, and us in his right- maybe it should be the other way around- I will give him this picture, just so he is reminded that it was not the air that made me happy that day, nor the warm wind of summer, but the way his deep green eyes bore down on me like the way the sun beamed down on us. That is what made me happy, him.
When I have pushed him to far, and told him I love him, yet I don’t. That’s when he can look at this, and crumple it and rip it, and do what he so wished with it.
I fold the picture and place it into my pocket, taking a deep breath as my pocket feels heavier with the burden. I dry my eyes with my cold fingers from my surroundings, and I feel like I have been here to long.
Yet I still need to look in one more place.
I walk up the stairs and open the creaking door to mine and Zayn’s room.
I sit down on the window ledge, and look around the room that was once so vibrant with my love, now it was too long ago to remember a time with that feeling.
As I walked, I felt a floorboard creak under my foot, I stepped back and knelt down lifting the board up, and as I looked inside was masses of paper, and I lifted them out.
Drawings of me.
I looked through, and I knew Zayn could draw, but this was amazing. He had drawn me, and him, and he put words about me on the pages, and things that had happened were scribbled down next to the drawings, his words about Harry were the hardest to read, or so I thought, until I saw how he wrote about himself, and I sighed reading the rule words he had put in his own head, some of the things I had said were wrote down too, and I sighed.
Then I read more and looked closer at the pictures of me, and I realised he had done a picture ever day we had been together, and something that had happened that day. He had made a book of drawings and words, to wrote our story, and I cried.
He drew me in the bar, with my eyes staring intently at him. - With the word Innocent.
He drew me in the hospital with tubes coming out of me. - With the word Fragile.
He even drew Charley. - With the word Gone.
He drew me in my wedding dress. - With the word magnificence.
He drew me with tears down my cheeks. - With the word Torn.
He drew me with a bottle of whiskey in my hand. - With the word Troubled
He drew me finally stood in the back garden of our new home, with my back to him, but I had turned to face him, and the this didn’t have a word, it had a sentence. - I love how she makes me feel. Like anything’s possible, or like, my life is finally worth living.
I grasp all the pages together, and sighed standing up. I needed to see zayn.
I got outside, thanking the once soiled house for this gift.
I tried to start the car, but it wouldn’t start, so I got out leaving everything but the pages, and slammed the door, running now in the heavy British rain.
I ran, I could hear my heart beat in my ears, and my lungs were large taking in the air that was needed. The pages got rain drops on them, which made me want to go faster, so I could keep them dry and with me.
I had ran for about 20 minutes, and I reached the bottom of the road that led me to the house. I felt the rain seeping through my clothes, and I saw Tiff’s car drive past me up to the house, and I looked over and then continued to run with my wet hair whipping in the wind.
A further seven minutes I was almost stood outside in the rain, but Tiff had clearly already told Zayn I was running, because Zayn was stood outside running towards me.
“Brook, are you fucking mad?” he asked me, walking towards me cupping my face.
“Zayn I am so sorry, I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I love you, I do, so much, and it’s so hard with everyone living with us… to.. to show you that I do love you, I know I am making you question it, because I see Harry, and because I don’t talk to you but I am madly in love you… and I know I question you too, about Flo, and that you don’t care, but I know you” I cried, and pulled the pictures up to his chest.
“You went to house?” he asked me, and looked.
“Zayn, you shouldn’t feel like your a bad person, you never hurt me as much as I have hurt you, and I know that now, I can’t be mad at you when I’m the one who constantly makes the mistakes… these drawings, you did one every day and that is… amazing, I mean you spent time drawing me, and I didn’t ask you to, but you just did, and the way you spoke about me, like I was this perfect thing, that got a little bit damaged here and there, but I am beyond that and you still love me… and I think that is remarkable” I whispered, and he smiled down at me, taking the drawing from my hand.
“I like drawing pretty things” he smirked down at me, and I laughed at the fact I had thrown my feelings at him, and he just smiled.
“Zayn…” I laughed softly, and smiled at him.
“You don’t have to say anything, I know your finding this hard, and I know you love me… I just get jealous, and I have pushed you away, because I don’t want you to get hurt because of me again, and its not your fault, okay, its really not… none of this is… I have hurt you in the past, don’t say that I haven’t because I have, and I am going to feel rotten about that for the rest of my life, but don’t you dare feel bad, because I know your hurting, and I just want to make that better” he whispered.
“I love you” I whispered, “And I know I don’t tell you enough, but I really do” I smile and he dropped the papers on the floor, and I went to pick them up.
“Don’t… I will draw you again” he whispered, “But time you can be ready…” he whispered, kissing me softly, and I smiled at him.
“Like one of your french girls?” I asked him with a chuckle, remembering us watching that film together.
“I’d like that” he smirked, and kissed me again, and his lips tasted of raindrops and cherry.
We walked inside, but I stopped before we got inside.
I picked up the paper, and Zayn came to stand behind me with his arms around me, and I smiled softly with the damp pages in my hand. “I still want to keep them, because when I’m old… or if there comes a time when you don’t love me, I will still have them, not just the memories” I smiled at him.
“Okay, but there will never be a time when I don’t love you” he smiled at me.
I had spent the remainder of the day with Zayn, just Zayn, but he had gone now, he said he had to do something. So I waited in the quiet house at 10 o’clock.
“Brook, come here” I heard Zayn’s voice.
I stood up and smiled as he stood in front of the bathroom, “I want to take you up on that offer” he spoke.
“Which offer might that be?” I asked him.
He opened the door behind him, and I smiled walking in. The bath was ran, and bubbles and rose petals lay in there, candles lay all about, and a bucket with ice and champagne in lay near the bath, opposite the large room was a chair, and a sketch book and pencil, I smiled softly feeling Zayn’s hand run down my arm.
“Can I draw you like a french girl?” he muttered, against my neck, and I hummed a yes, letting him slowly, run his hands down me, and take me clothes, of moving to stand in front of me, lifting my shirt up, and kissing my stomach, and I let my hands find his hair.
He lifted it off me, and I smiled at him as he kissed me then lowering himself to his knees, letting his hands fall on waist, and softly touch me hips, pulling down my shorts, then running his hands up my thighs, kissing them softly.
“You can handle the rest I assume?” he smirked at me, placing with the lace on my panties and I smiled, kissing him softly, letting his hand touch my back, and pull me closer to him.
I lay in the bath smiling at him as he drew, I couldn’t help love him, feeling my heart burst with passion, this boy really did love me, and I wanted to everything in my power to keep him.
Personally I love this chapter.
What do you all think, i need to know so I know if i should carry on, or change things.