Hometowns are graveyards.

I had been in Long Island forever, I didn't know life in another place. Despite traveling, living somewhere is completely different than going as a tourist for a short amount of time. I thought about this all as I sat on the big recliner in Zayn's living room, not paying attention to the movie on TV.

"It's the eyes, chico, they never lie."

I wondered if Zayn would run away with me, if he'd abandon everything just to go. Maybe. It was hard to tell. After last night- I felt like he'd do anything if I asked. If I convinced him to leave with me so I could start over, I knew he'd at least think about it. I feel like Z would never abandon his job, though, and in that moment I realized that my father had a very tight hold on him.

Everything that had happened between us was overwhelming. From one day to another- we had grown so close. I thought I was being so careful, not noticing I had left my scars out in the open. Zayn was the first person I ever opened up to. It scared me shitless, just because he could truly abandon me at any moment without looking back.

But I didn't want to keep him with me for the wrong reasons.

A text comes in suddenly, his name on the screen immediately warming my cheeks. He had run out to get us coffee and cigarettes- the most nutritious breakfast.

Z: Babygirl
A: Daddy
Z: Miss u. Open the door yeah? Got coffee

I excitedly sprung out of my comfy spot, absolutely beaming. His shirt was a bit big on me, but it smelled just like he did- cologne, mint, and cigarettes.

How could I miss him this much when he had only been gone for a half hour?

I opened the door and there he stood, shining and sparkling like a diamond in a glass case. My man. His twinkling eyes crinkled endearingly as he grinned, his pearly teeth perfect just like he was. Zayn kissed my forehead as he walked in, his casual strides like the ones of a gangster in an old movie. Confident. Full of fire.

He sat the coffee down gracefully on the island in the kitchen, along with a white plastic bag. Z looked focused as he emptied the bag's contents: cigarettes, new turquoise lighter, a pack of bubblegum. I could only watch that cigarette he had freed from the pack, only to put it with the others again, but backwards.

The lucky one.

It was crazy of me, to so desperately want to be that cigarette in between his long fingers now. Desperately crazy of me to wish I was that cigarette in between his pink lips.

"I can feel you watching me."

I blushed, his tall figure approaching me. "I'm sorry."

He smiles lovingly, "I trust you were good while I was gone. I was hoping we could spend all day in bed, since I have a long day tomorrow."

I must have been pouting and visibly upset; it wasn't long before Zayn cornered me into the hallway, his cigarette secure in between his lips. His eyes were drowning me, that leather jacket was not helping these butterflies running rampant in my stomach.

He smirked, the lit tobacco just hanging there casually, but it was the most elegant thing in the world, just like he is.

"I missed you, hard, " Zayn's voice is low, his hand on my hip, his right index and middle fingers held his dying cigarette. "How am I supposed to go to work tomorrow?"

There was so much desperation in the air, he was so close to me I could have passed out drunk on just his presence.

I inch my face closer to his, noticing him simply drop the cigarette on the floor. "Like you always do," I replied, clearly faking nonchalance, "maybe I'll be here when you're back."

He raised a brow. "You belong here, with me. I know you'll be here, angel."

Zayn pressed himself against me, seconds later connecting his mouth to mine. His lips tangled with mine, the sensual gesture turning into a power struggle.

"You're mine," he whispered against my lips, "I think we belong together."

Slow caresses turned into his rough hands pressing down on my hips, our bodies impossibly closer somehow. It wasn't until his sharp teeth bit down on my bottom lip that I let out a pained moan. A metallic, warm liquid stained his lips as he continued to kiss me until I really was delirious with desire.

We pulled away breathless, not saying anything yet. The dizzy looks on our faces were both probably equally insane, but we wouldn't stop looking at each other.

A loud ringing interrupted our enchantment, he rushed over to get it immediately. I figured it was that important, even if I felt jealous that his attention was on someone else.

"I'm busy is all," He frowned, lighting up another cigarette. "I'm awar - yes, I'm aware you need me, but we discussed this. Don't call me when I'm with Anastasia,"

My heart fluttered and curiosity grew. I walked into the kitchen with him, sitting on one of the stools. My coffee was still steaming hot, so a cigarette will do for now.

"I fucking told you, I hate repeating myself. You know that. Do not disturb me when I'm with her. I will be there later, don't call again." He spat angrily before hanging up immediately, shaking his head in frustration.

"I'm sorry," He began, "Fucking people at work need me later, can't do jack shit alone and without me giving orders."

"Who was that though?" I replied suspiciously.

"Kate."

"Who the fuck is Kate?"

He sighed. "Works at the office."

My body felt very alert and strange. Angry, like I could destroy anything if I felt like it. "Can I go with you?"

Zayn raised a brow. "No, you know why. I said no more."

But I'll cry if you leave me for too long. "I just want to be close to you," my voice cracked.

His expression softened, but a million things were going through my head. "I decided it's best for you to stay. You know I know best, baby."

I took a long drag of my cigarette, my hand visibly shaking because of my sudden distress. "You're gonna fuck her, aren't you?"

I'm standing in front of him now, defiance written all over me. He was going to fuck her and bring her to replace me. Maybe this was his way of saying he was through with me.

"Shut the fuck up," he gripped my wrists angrily, "I only want to fuck you, make love to you... Stop being an idiot, don't rush to negative assumptions."

I can tell he isn't lying, his eyes say it all. But just as he's looking at me softer, I see something else in him.

Danger.

"It's the eyes, chico, they never lie."

I know good and well that dangerous men like Zayn were rare. Guys that will put you in your place when needed, guys who look the meanest in public just so no one approaches you.

Later on I'd learn about the nature of this violence, the birth of his overprotective side. I'd learn and see things I could only wish I had recorded, to keep forever. You never notice how fast you're living until you've slowed down and you lose your entire life.

I know good and well that him claiming me, being rough, and making my lip bleed on purpose are all little ways that danger and violence manifest. I know violence is it's own sort of beauty.

And he was my beauty, my violent lover, my lungs, my favorite drug.