Zayn

It took me a few more turns and swirls before the cappuccino was good to go. To top it off, I sprinkled some cacao powder over the heart- shaped foam- as the order wished. It had become one of my specialities, making creative figures out of the coffee foam. So they said.

Latte art was the only way for me to express the creativity that I had inside of me, as baking cakes at the cafe I worked at, surely wasn't for me. Unless someone craved black, burnt and hard as a rock scones and muffins. Too bad I hadn't ever heard someone ask.

Once I had placed everything on a tray, I quickly placed a biscuit near her cappuccino and walked over to the old, grey haired lady who came here a lot.

"So Daphne, here it is. Your heart shaped cappuccino with cacao powder and a blueberry muffin." I carefully placed the cup and muffin on the table in front of her and held the tray with one hand, passing her a smile.

She smiled at me, "Thank you, son. How comes I see you the whole week now and not just on Saturday?"

"Didn't you hear? The school closed because there were not enough pupils on it. They all moved to another school and they already had a music teacher." I sighed softly. It wasn't my intention to become a music teacher for the young kids, but once I got the job I had loved every single minute of it. Too bad the school had to close and therefore made me lose my job.

The old woman sighed. "Oh darling, I'm sorry to hear that. The kids loved you." She placed her warm hand over mine, rubbing circles over it with her old, shaky fingers.

"Nothing to do about it." I shrugged slowly and gave her a genuine smile.

I saw a small frown appearing on her face as she grabbed my wrist softly, quietly observing it for a while. "What happened to your arm?"

"To my arm?" I automatically frowned as well, mostly in confusion, and moved my attention to the place she was looking at. A rather dark blue spot had appeared on my skin near my hand. I thought about what could've been the reason for the bruise, but couldn't make up my mind. "I honestly don't know. I haven't noticed it before." I said honestly, inspecting it a bit more as I turned my wrist.

"Be careful, Zayn. We don't want you to hurt yourself now, do we?" The woman- who genuinely felt like my own grandmother- started stroking the bruise with her old, shaky finger. "Go back to work before you get your bum kicked, don't want to keep you up."

I laughed. "Alright, I'll see you later Daphne."

Walking back to the cafe counter, I kept glancing at the bruise on my arm. It hadn't been the first mysterious bruise so it made me really confused as why I kept getting bruises without noticing it.

"Did they ask you to do it?" My mum questioned, concern laced in her eyes as she glanced at me.

Sighing deeply, I dropped my pen onto the table and looked up at her, frowning. "No mum. I wanted to do the financials. I have nothing else to do in the evening so, it's fine."

She shook her head. "But Zayn, darling, you work six days a week.. don't you think that's enough already?"

"Mum, I offered it. I'm tired, yes. But it's the good tired. I can sleep well at night and I won't be tired in the morning anymore." I lied. I always felt tired, but I just loved working. Doing nothing at all made me feel useless, and when they needed someone to check the finances I hadn't hesitated to offer myself up for the task.

My mum stayed quiet and I continued calculating the bills and the revenue from this month in peace, actually happy that she didn't comment on it anymore. I hid my yawn and quickly rubbed my eyes while I looked up and saw my youngest- six years old- sister sitting on the opposite of me as she played with her toys.

I smiled by myself and stared back at my paper. Just then I noticed that a red drop had fallen on it as it wasn't there before. I was sure about that.

I kept staring at it, trying to find out if it was actually blood. It all was confirmed when more drops fell down on the paper, hiding all the typed words and numbers. I wiped my nose and my hand was stained red. I frowned deeply, this wasn't the first time I had gotten a bleeding nose either. In fact, I had been getting these for almost every day lately.

Shoving my chair away, I held the back of my hand to my nose as I walked over to the kitchen to retrieve some napkins.

"What's wrong?" Mum wondered, pointing to my papers with one hand as she was braiding Doniya's- which was the eldest sister- long black hair.

I shrugged, removing the tissue from my nose and staring at the deep , red, colour of it. "My nose is bleeding. Nothing too bad."

She glanced at my wrist and softly turned me around, taking my arm in her warm hands. "You've got some bruises on your arm. Did you bump into something?" Mum swallowed, and I couldn't deny the slight fear I saw in her, usually, warm brown eyes. It confused me.

"Uhm, no? And if it did happen, I cannot remember it," I answered honestly, turning back around.

Mum took another tissue out of the carton box we had standing on the counter, and started wiping underneath my nose, cleaning the remaining spots of blood away. "Do you have any more bruises? Maybe on your back? Or stomach?"

"Not that I know of," I pulled up the dark green shirt I was wearing and inspected my own stomach, noticing one or two bruises near my ribs. Glancing at my mum again, I noticed the fear in her eyes only became stronger.

She turned me around and observed my back, perhaps pressing on a bruise as a pain shot through my body. "Ouch- why did you do that?!" I hissed, giving her an apologetic look after that.

Rolling my shirt back down when goosebumps appeared on my skin due to the exposure, mum stared into my eyes for seconds long without saying anything. "I think you need to see a doctor, Zayn."

"Why?" I groaned, letting her know that I didn't feel like it. "I feel as healthy as a fish! There's nothing wrong with me. I must've bumped against several things in the cafe, I mean-"

My mum didn't give away any expressions as she cut me off. "Because I say so. You've been getting bruises, bleeding noses and you wake up several times bathing in sweat."

I didn't really know what my mum was trying to say, but it felt like she knew all along the way.

The next day we took a few blood tests. To me it was slightly satisfying- watching the blood drip into the small tubes made out of glass. My little sister thought it was scary and my mother gave nothing away- like she was doing the whole time. It scared me, but I knew she was just worried.

Later this week we got a phone call. They had the results. There was one problem, though. For some reasons we couldn't get the results through the phone but we had to visit the hospital to get the results.

Mum was extremely stressed. My dad tried calming her down but nothing worked. I tried to stay positive and thought I had to visit the hospital because the nurses and doctors simply understood my results better than the general practitioner, so they could elaborate everything better.

I took the day off from work, grabbed the keys and started putting on my shoes.

"Where are you going?" Mum asked, her eyebrow slightly raised but her expression soft.

I shrugged on my jacket, "To the hospital. I want to know what my results are." Grabbing my beanie, I pulled it over my head and adjusted it so that it would warm my ears as well. It was cold outside, the crisp autumn breeze coloring ears and noses red. The past few days had been rainy, but when weren't they here in England?

"Why are you going now? We're going together, Zayn and you know that because I told you." Mum stated, loosely holding my wrist- perhaps because of the bruise- but also because she had always been very gentle towards her children.

Sighing, I turned around and briefly glanced at her "Mum. It's just the results. I'm twenty one, with a drivers license. I can do this myself perfectly fine."

"I said so, Zayn. You're going to listen to me, if you want to or not. Fine if you want to go now, but I'm joining you." My mum slipped on her shoes, coat and her scarf and told my dad to look after my sisters. I became extremely moody instantly and I couldn't help but mutter my answers every time she asked me something.

The drive was long but we did make it eventually. My mum held the envelope with the letter tight to her chest and for some reasons, she couldn't look at me when I tried to make eye contact. I wanted to make sure she was still okay, despite the fact that she had made me quite moody.

I honestly didn't understand what was wrong with her. She was acting so overprotective, like I was still a little boy but yet she couldn't look at me and she hadn't bothered to tell me what letter she was holding.

We entered the hospital and all kind of emotions, feelings and people were stumbling around. Families with newborn babies and smiles on their faces, people with broken legs, arms and more, crying people, laughing people. The hospital wasn't a place I liked to visit as I had history in it as well.

I felt my mum's hand touching my arm softly and I gave her a warm smile. I wanted to calm her down, but I also needed a smile back. I didn't want her to worry about me and I wanted her to act like she normally would, as her behaviour scared me.

It worked, kind of. She did give me a smile back but once she looked away her sad yet worried expression was back.

"Mum.. whatever it is, it will be fine yeah? Why are you so worried?" I wondered, trying to observe her expression.

She sighed softly and I saw a tear rolling down her cheek. "I can't help but.."

"But what?" I kept looking at her as I followed her into an elevator. She obviously knew the way. I didn't.

She gave me a smile, "Nothing Zayn. You're right. It will be fine."

I decided not to ask further and we continued to walk in silence once we got out of the elevator. My mum glanced at the letter she was holding and she turned to the right. I kept following her until we arrived at a hallway with chairs.

We both sat down on the uncomfortable, hard, plastic chairs and as mum absently started to flip through a magazine, I simply stared at the people that came by. Waiting felt like ages, but eventually the door opened and a mother and child left the small room.

I stared at the child and my heart skipped a beat when I got a better view of him. The child- who wouldn't be any older than ten years- was completely bald and had tubes from tube feeding attached to his skin with band aids. His skin looked pale and his face looked swollen from medication. Dark circles were visible underneath his eyes, and his mother placed him into the wheelchair as he was too exhausted to walk.

It all reminded me of when I was a little boy. I was only five when I got diagnosed with Leukemia, but when I turned seven I had my last chemo and I was officially considered clean. It was such a miracle, as there had been a night where my family had said their goodbye's to me. Everyone thought I was about to pass and they prepared themselves that I wouldn't be there in the morning anymore. But I somehow still had some strength in me, some strength to fight.

I had check ups until I was eighteen but it hadn't came back one single time. And as I had been clean for over ten years, they decided to stop the check- ups as they didn't expect for it to come back.

But now, thinking about my mysterious bruises, nose bleeds and waking up in sweat..

Swallowing, I started looking around the department and my eye caught the word Oncology. That's when I understood my mum's worries.

That's when it hit me.