Post Office Pal ( Zayn fanfic)

I see him everyday, with that slick black hair in a quiff and his beautiful hazel eyes. He's always running in and out the same time i Do, everday. He always gives me that small smile that sends my heart flying through my chest. Someday I'll get the courage to face him, to say hi and introduce myself. I kniw his name though, its on his mailbox. Zayn Malik, my post office pal


2. chapter 2

I wake in the middle of the night, a terrible pain in my stomach and I feel nauseaus. I hug myself tightly and curl into ta.ball on the bed as I cry out. I attempt to fall back asleep but its no use. I eventually make it to my feet and walk to the kitchen in search of a glass to drink some water. As in taking the first sip, it comes hack up and im dashing to the bathroom where the contents of my dinner come back up. I hurl and sink to the bathroom floor. Did i eat something bad? I wake the next morning still on the bathroom floor. I reach up to my forehead and im soaked in sweat. Only one i must have, the flu. I get to my feet and I collapse on the couch, where I fall asleep again. My stomach lurches and I bolt awake again and I tgrow up on the carpet in my midst of trying to get to the bathroom. Ugh! I rinse my mouth again and work to clean my vile from the floor, although the cleaning supplies dont agree with me. The smeel makes my stomach flip and Im throwing up again. God can this day get any worse? I cough and splutter before my breath comes back and I drrink some water. The flu hasnt hit me this hard for at least six years. I walk back to the couch, feeling lightheaded and fall asleep where I sleep the rest of the day and night. I awake the next morning feeling exahausted and still nasaeus. I lay on the couch all day, sippimg warer but i end up puking my guts up again only worse this time. I rinse my mouth and brush my teeth and go back to the couch, flipping on the tv, where i soend most of the day... other than when my stomach is being wmptied. I try and eat a piece of toast but it only comes up half an hour later. Maybe fresh air will work? I wobble out to the front door and step outside in my bare feet, but my feet meet some paper. Huh?I look down in confusion and see papers and bills, with flyers..I bend down and pick it up, flipping through finding on the bills and the catalouges adressed to me... then i find a sticky.note stuck to the last bill. ' You havent come in to get your mail for the past two days... I drove by and your car was at the house... maybe your sick? I was concerned plus the post was having trouble fitting the maul in the slot... hope you get better soon ... xx -Zayn Malik, your post office pal.' I stare at the note in my hands and my stomach flips again, but not because Im naeseus... because the boy of my dreams cared enough to bring me my mail and left me a note too... maybw bwing sick wasnt so bad afterall
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