Poetry - Zayn Malik Fanfiction

Zayn Malik. He's sweet and caring. Never would he hurt a soul. That's his cover. His dirty past is built of lies and destruction. He finds a girl, a girl by the name of Noel. What keeps them sane? Poetry.


22. "Only the gentle are ever really strong."

"Only the gentle are ever really strong." – James Dean

The hospital room was cramped. Cold, cramped, and scary. The walls where dull and grey. They seemed to close in with each blink. The sickening smell of medicine and anesthetics loomed in the air. A window was placed on the wall, blinds closed over it. It was small. A bed lay against a wall, taking up a lot of room. Attached to the bed was a pole with gadgets and beeping machines, the only sound in the room. That was soon changed.

Noel and Sasha stood next to the bed, hearts racing. A light sheet was draped over Zayn, who was dressed in a hospital gown. His eyes where shut and his face was relaxed, almost like he was sleeping.

But was he just sleeping?

A male doctor walked into the room, dressed in dull colors. He had grey hair and a grey mustache, holding in his arms a pad of paper.

“I’m glad you could make it.” His voice was deep and serious.

“I came as fast as I could,” Noel said quietly, eyes fixed on Zayn. She felt as if the tears would spill at any moment. Zayn meant everything to her, it was truly hard to see him like this. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, lips quivering.

“You’re probably wondering what condition Zayn is in,” he suggested. Walking up to the bed, he looked down.

“Yes we are,” Sasha responded, even though the statement wasn’t for her. The doctor gave her a curious look.

“Zayn Malik.” He opened the top page of his notebook. “He has a concussion.”

“I-is that bad?” Noel had to ask, she knew nothing of injuries. Her hands shook, so she gripped the steel bar next to Zayn’s bed.

The doctor cleared his throat. “This one is, yes. Zayn hit his head pretty hard. He should be asleep for days. It’s a very slight chance he’ll slip into a coma. I doubt it.”

Noel sucked in her breath, chest heavy. “B-but, he can?”

“Um, yes. But he probably won’t.” He put on a fake smile. “Don’t worry.”

Noel bit her bottom lip to stop her from crying. She felt Sasha’s hand against her back.

“When Zayn wakes up, he will be… different.”

“What do you mean, different?” Her voice came out shaky.

“His emotional state will change. He’ll most likely show high levels in sadness or anger. He will also be very tired. Very very tired. His sleep schedule will change, definitely.”

“Okay,” Noel breathed, shaking at the thought of Zayn being highly angered or sad. “Can I be alone with him in here, please?”

“Of course.” Sasha slowly walked towards the door, whispering, “It’ll be okay.” They exited the room, leaving Noel alone with Zayn.


She bent down beside him, looking over his features. He looked relaxed, almost peaceful. His breathing flowed out of his slightly open mouth.

Noel felt her bottom lip quiver. Her heart pounded and her head ached. “Zayn,” she whimpered. “I know you can’t hear me. I know you can’t s-see me…”

She started to cry; she couldn’t help it. A hot tear rolled down her cheek. Small weeps escaped her mouth and her back heaved. She was a wreck.

“Zayn,” she said, barely able to speak. “P-please don’t go into a coma. You want to stay with me. Here with us.” She clasped her eyes closed, tears splashing on the fabric.

She rested her head against his chest.

Thump thump.

His heart was beating. She cried onto him in relief, but sadness was still tinged in it. “Zayn, stay strong for me, okay?” She let all her warm liquids from her face seep into his gown. “Please, stay strong.”

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