My Light

Zayn POV

The weather was starting to change, the shift in the wind, shorts being replaced by pants and jackets, the air had a crisp smell to it. I don't know what I'm doing here. Needed to get away from London, I should have went to Dubai or LA where it's nice but I chose New York. The massive amount of people from all different backgrounds pulled me here. I've spent the last two days doing nothing. Lounging in my hotel, drinking, fighting the urge to smoke but I've finally given up cigarettes, no turning back now.

Today I've decided to venture out. Let the sunlight hit my face, feel the air on my skin. But with my luck, its cloudy out. The day looks bleak. I pull the hood of my jacket over my hair, slip my sunglasses on even if it's cloudy. Things are just easier that way. I can avoid the questions, the gawking, the fans.

I'm staying on the Upper East Side, all these sections of New York City have always confused me but it's not like I have somewhere to be. I can get lost in the city for the day, the week, the rest of my life if I want to. I head down the steps to the subway. Today I just feel like riding the rails. Studying people. People have always interested me.

It's still early in the morning, the train is quite crowded as it's Monday, everyone is anxious to get to work. I see small children crying to their mothers about how tired they are, men tapping their feet waiting for their stop to arrive, women shifting uncomfortable in their seats, people without homes pulling in as much heat from the train as they can. Their are too many people here to actually study them individually without getting distracted. The noise, the constant stop and go, doors open, more people get in, people fight to get off, I find myself lucky that I had the career that I did, I never have to be like that.

We lose the lights every once in a while,sometimes they flicker. People sit next to me, take up more of a seat then I do, people smell. Some people talking loudly on the phone, on too personal things if you ask me. People listening to music too loudly. I saw someone picking their nose, reminding me to take a bath in hand sanitizer when I get home.

I see were passing through neighborhoods, this subway takes us to the financial district. We stop at West 14th Street when things get a little more calm. That's when I see her. Have you ever seen the movie Big Fish? When he sees the girl and time literally stops? I place my hand on my chest and remember to breath as she quietly steps over the gap and takes a seat on the train. She hasn't made eye contact with me, or anyone on the train to be honest. I swallow with all my might, I feel as though I've been struck by lightning, all the noise is gone. Just me and her, even though she doesn't know it.

She sits, crossing her ankles and pulls her bag away from her shoulder. Her long brown hair flowing past her breasts, I notice some of her long fingers wrapped in a few small bandages, I have no idea where they could have came from. I sense her angst when she starts digging through her bag a little faster, trying to find something. I notice when she finds what she's looking for she places her other hand on her chest and breaths a sigh of relief. A book. I can't tell what it is, I do know it's older, or else she's read it quite a few times.

I study her as she smiles slightly, turning the pages quickly. Engrossed in her book. She has it low on her lap so I still can't figure out what it is that has her so intrigued. I give up for a second when we stop again and more people get on the train, I stand to give my seat to a pregnant woman. I don't mind, I inch just a little bit closer to her, supporting myself on the overhead rail. I want to speak but its as if my voice is gone, the words are formed in my mouth but they just won't come out. And she's yet to look at me.

We stop at Broome Street and she puts her book away quickly, throwing her bag over her shoulder and standing, squeezing past me with ease and waiting by the door. I turn to watch her as she waits by the gate, we stop briefly, then just like that, she's gone.

I take her empty seat as the train starts to fill up a little more for people bound for the Financial District. Who was she? How did she have this pull on me when she didn't even notice me? I sit back, running my fingers through my hair, suddenly not remembering my original plan to people watch. I have to talk to her. I have to.

I ride the rails the rest of the day, pulling out my sketch book and drawling people. I read a newspaper someone left behind, I even caught a snooze for a little bit. I can see how people fall asleep on the trains, the slight motion of the back and forth, the quiet in the middle of the day, it's very lulling. I drew her. Reading a book on the train, its a crude piece, her hair didn't have the flow that I remember, I was focused on her eyes. Her light brown eyes with just a touch of eyeliner and mascara, nothing over the top, nothing too much. I remember her thin upper lip and larger lower lip, nude lips, nothing on them from what I could tell. Maybe chap stick, she looks like a girl who always has chap stick on her.

Mainly I think of her quiet grace. The way she crossed her ankles, the way she brought her hand to her chest, the way she pulled all her hair to the side exposing her neck. She had a plain white shirt on, from what I could see, she was wearing a pink coat so I could only see the top of her shirt. Skinny jeans and tan flats. She carried a plain canvas bag, no markings as to tell me where she came from. Other than the fact that she got off on Broome Street and on at West 14th.

I lean back in my chair, suddenly finished with my tortilla soup and water. Sometimes I just want a normal life. A quiet life where I could marry someone, have children with them and life our lives out forever. But that's not what I get, that's not my life plan anymore. I wouldn't trade it for the world, I met great people, made fantastic friends, and lived a dream most people would kill for.

But when that all stops, it's a hard thing to put behind you. It's not something you can easily walk away from. People linger, rumors linger, it's not a switch you can turn off. I just needed to leave London. Get out and do my own thing for once. Focus on what makes me happy and what I truly want to do. Trouble is, I have no idea what I wanted to do. So I just drawl. Spend my money and use my hands to create.

I want to see her again tomorrow. It's tricky to get on the same train as someone else, they're always coming and going but as long as I get on the train at the same time as I did yesterday I should be good. Should be.

“Excuse me, are you Zayn Malik?” My breath drops just a little bit. I don't want to acknowledge this voice but it's part of me and who I am.

“Yes.” I smile, it's fake, but she'll never know.

“Oh my God, can I take a picture with you?” She's smiling wide, I can't deny a fan, even if it's been so long.

“Sure.” I stand and clasp my hands together, I always felt it was awkward to wrap my arms around someone I didn't know, I wanted to respect people more than that. She holds her phone out and snaps a few pictures of us, thanks me and walks away.

I sit back down and mess with my phone, scrolling around on twitter, checking my e-mails. I don't dare to check google, I'd rather not know the latest gossip about myself. It's about when I stand to leave that my phone vibrates. I look down and smile, it's Safaa, my littlest sister.

“Safaa, how are you?” I ask, sitting back down and smiling. She's almost sixteen now. It's hard to believe how quickly things happened, I missed a lot about my sisters growing up when I was gone making my millions. It all seems so unimportant now when I struggle to have a simple conversation with them.

“Zaynee, how are you? Where are you?” She asks.

“I'm in New York City, just lounging at a cafe.” I lean back stretching my feet out.

“When are you coming home? We miss you.” She whines just a bit and it makes me laugh. I miss all my sisters.

“Um, I don't know, I'm just here to be here you know? I'm relaxing.” It's a shitty excuse but I just need to find myself on my own terms.

“But you can relax here. Please come home Zayn.” She pleads with me and just the sound of her voice hurts my chest. I pull the phone away and tap it on my shoulder, trying to think of something to say.

“I will soon my little apiya.” I promise her.

“I'll hold you to it bhaiya. I've got to get back to my studies. Love you.” She hangs up quickly, leaving me to stare at my phone, making assumptions. I do miss my family, I miss my parents and my friends from home but it's nice to just be.

Notes

Hey everyone!! So this is it, first chapter of my Zayn story. Might seem like it's moving fast but it's not. :) Our MC will remain unnamed until the fourth chapter, but I wanted you all to know what she looked like.

I'll post another chapter in a minute to get the ball rolling. Thank you all so much for everything you have done for me, it's so appreciated.

Happy Friday!!

xoxox