Crystal misses Zayn like hell, but is the feeling mutual? Pls vote and comment and show some love ❤️

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when we collide
02| into his' life

Zayn was struggling, the struggle was unreal, he couldn't even move a feet. His toes curled and fingers twitched as he looked outside his window. Who decided that work should be early morning dàmn?

He turned around and much to his displeasure found a girl, possibly naked. Her brown locks falling over her face as he spotted her underwear lying on the floor. Somehow struggling out of the blankets he wore his boxers and yawned loudly.

The girl shifted in her sleep and varily smiles at him. "hey gorgeous."

"Hey. . . could you possibly leave now? I'm sort late for office."

"Excuse me?"

"Excused-"

"But I thought-"

Bloódy hell, he has a meeting.

"See the hang is I can only please one person a day and today doesn't seem like yours.”  Zayn cringes.

“Can we reschedule this to never?"

"You're such an asshole!" the girl whines pulling the sheet closer as if it gave her closure.

"I'd tell you to go to hell but I work there, which reminds me I've to go, can you please rush this sweetheart?"

The girl glares at Zayn and stands up wearing her clothes in the most comfortable way she could passing a middle finger and a 'massive fu.ck you' and running downstairs, then as if Jesus reincarnated from the dead to throw the light of wisdom on Zayn to remind him about his sense of vision he passes a look to the clock. Which he shouldn't have done, obviously.

"Holy shít, I'm so dead!" He runs to the restroom and starts brushing his teeth. "hold up Usain Bolt, where did you keep the red file?" Dead. So dead.

Taking a quick rinse, definitely stood a chance at a world record there, Zayn rushes to his wardrobe and takes out a shirt and a tie, changing to his utmost speed.

"Good morning Mr. Mal- are you late again?" Carolina, probably the only good influence in Zayn's life, now working at his house for 3 years as his maid, Zayn was used to her daily reminder of what a piece of lazy àss he was.

"Thanks for the dearest reminder, can you fix me a quick breakfast now that you're done sympathising my current uncomfortable situation?"

Wide eyed as she stares, Carolina swiftly nods almost walking out but stopping to question, "you need any help?"

"Hey siri, how to successfully plan a homicide?"
"Woah, okay," she laughs, jogging her way downstairs.

"Ugh the Red file, where can you be?" Zayn picks up his phone giving a quick ring to his colleague Watson, who by the way according to Zayn was the reason Zayn was bipolar. He wasn't bipolar but you get the hang.

"Good morning Mr. Ma-"
"Where is the Red file?"
"Oh- uh, Sir I took it out of your desk, I thought it'll be safer-"

"Watson?" Zayn speaks in a husky voice, probably fumes of anger leaving his ear.
"Uh y-yes sir?"
"You have exactly thirty five minutes to find a safe place before I reach work."

Giving out an uncomfortable breath, "Aren't you late?"
"No shít, Sherlock."

Hanging up the phone, Zayn quickly slides on his shirt and tie and rushes down. Carolina puts a plate of macaroni and some juice for Zayn to eat as he slides on a chair and eats vigorously.

Dissatisfied with the size of his spoon, the man raises the plate of macaroni to his face, wolfs it down and licks the plate clean. His body shook as he belched loud and long.

"Uhm-"
"Trust me, I know Carolina. I look like a pig right now."
"But sir—"

"Please clean this up and lock the house before you leave, you know where to keep the key."
"B-but sir-"

"Also I'll be leaving tonight for my house so you're on leave. Got to go, Bye!"

"SIR PANTS!" the door bang closes as Zayn jogs down the small pathway in front of his main door, feeling colder than he typical days.

"Good lord have mercy." he whispers, as if it was a jargon and remembering god only when he's fifteen minutes late would help him. Not a chance.

"Good morning—" Martha, the second out of the only good influences in Zayn's life, being his neighbour for two years now, stares at Zayn, cautiously. Watching a guy in his mid twenties half naked on a well morning isn't exactly what Martha pondered about the day to be like.

"Martha, I'm like ridiculously late right now, spare me I'll talk to you soon." Zayn says, almost huffing and half inside his car.

"But honey—"
"Make it quick, Martha."  He sighs frustratedly, eyebrows furrowed. Third actual conversation since morning, Zayn was massively pissed off.

Martha gives out an awkward laugh, going through the crisis of how to phrase 'honey you look terrible in the boxers with the shirt and tie'. "Do you . . . like have some fancy dress thing at your work?"

"What do you-" Zayn cringes.

How could the good lord work without inserting the huge dick of embarrassment up Zayn's ass.

Zayn laughs because that's what he's good at. Martha joins him awkwardly. They laugh for a good second before Zayn interrupts.

"Actually yes, we thought its becoming very boring at work y'know?—"

"I think Jeffrey is calling me?" Martha laughs, knowing very well Jeffrey is out cycling like every morning.

"Isn't it? I think I heard it too." Zayn knew it too, the old man's day wouldn't budge without him going on a cycling spree every morning.

Martha runs, literally runs, throwing the idea of watering her plants far away, she just needed to find escapism out of the bloody situation.

"Oh look what's that flying high in the sky? My self respect is what, congratulations." Zayn hisses to himself, rushing in to see Carolina marching in haste, her face furrowed with anxiety.

As soon as she sees Zayn, as if her soul came crashing back inside her she whispers, "Sir you're not wearing any pants."

Zayn rolls his eyes, "Is it so Carolina? But what about the plan of waiting 7 Christmas' until you finally told me?"

"Sir I wanted to-"

"Carolina, do me a favour please?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Shut up?" Carolina awkwardly mumbles as Zayn rushes in his room, taking out the first thing which he gets his hand on, extremely in need of ironing.

He sighs in defeat, just like everyday he was a mess. A complete mess, these are times he wished he could persuade his mother to live with him. He rushes, dumping his bag inside the car and slamming the door shut.

"Lord do I drive miles to work or just across continent?" Slamming his head on the steering wheel, he sighs. Again.

After almost driving like a maniac and breaking forty three signals, and almost flying his car, Zayn parks his car outside the building of 'Artsy Enterprises' exactly at 10:06 P. M. being forty five minutes late.

"Jesus, you drive like it's the end of the world." Flicking her blonde locks Margaret walks towards Zayn. Her suit crisply neat and ironed unlike Zayn who looks like the definition of almost dead/ barely surviving.

"I know that was illegal but it's okay." Zayn slams the door shut and sighs for the fifth time, his tie drooping low and his shirt half tucked in as he stares at Margaret, his work acquaintance. Maybe slightly more than acquaintance but definitely not a friend. All she ever did was throw some light of practicality on Zayn, which he so needed, but won't accept.

"Jesus, this looks like someone wore it to a zombie apocalypse." She says, looking extremely amused as she points at Zayn's pants.

"You're equivalent to a fúcking thong in my life, god, can you not stay up my ass." Zayn hisses as he starts walking inside almost tip toeing across his boss' cabin and running pass it. Margaret laughs as she's hot on his heels.

"Someone is grumpy today."

"Great observation, mind giving me some space?"

"I'm sure you got another girl yesterday didn't you?"

Entering his cabin, Zayn slams his bag on the table and hangs his jacket on his chair. "Open that box." He points at a small box lying on his work table. Margaret hesitantly opens it to find it empty and passing Zayn a weird look.

"Last time I checked that was where I kept your nose, found it in my business y'know?" Rolling her eyes Margaret slams the box on Zayn's work table.

"See Malik, if this is your idea of moving on—"

"At least I'm not finding girls from old age homes."

"You just did NOT strike my sugar daddy kink."

"Sweetie, that's exactly what I did."

"Malik, seriously, it's high time to get your shit together. Yeah, she cheated and it hurts, but really bringing new girls every night isn't the best solution you know?"

"Margaret can we please for the love of god not discuss my love life right now?"

"Love life? Honey that's non existent, what I'm discussing right now is your talent to make bad decisions without any ounce of alcohol in your system."

"The door is there, please help yourself." Zayn hisses, falling on his chair and leaning his head back. Margaret laughs, moving her head in disapproval as she heads for the door.

"A wise man once said, Just chuck it in the fúck it bin."

"Yeah sure, please tell me anger management balls aren't for pressing but throwing at people who cause it.”
“Why?”

“Because." A ball knocks Margaret right on her face as she rubs her nose, passing Zayn a glare.

"You really need someone to help and get your shít together. Anyway there's load of file work waiting for you given by yours truly."  Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes in the process. Margaret walks out, the sound of her heels clinking on the floor ranging around. Taking a sigh of relief Zayn sits straight, covering his face with his hands. 4. Conversations.

"What life is this?"

"Also." Almost jumping out of his chair Zayn looks up, clutching his chest as he stares wide eyed at Margaret who stares back at him, peeping through the door.

"Aren't you late, Malik?" That's when Zayn loses it and bangs his head on the table.

If life was soup, Zayn was fork.

༻❁༺

The only thing making Zayn peerless right now was the fact that he had a half day and then a week off. He almost jogs as he exits the workplace towards his car, a small smile playing almost wishing he could cartwheel to cloud nine to express his happiness.

"Zayn!" and there goes the moment. He turns almost forcefully and passes a small smile to his boss.

"Weren't you late?" just one person, just one person more to remind Zayn and he'll lose it.

"I w-was." He admits, biting his lip in the process.
"Is everything alright?"

Zayn furrows his brows, lightly chuckling as the London breeze brushes pass him. "Sure, is something wrong?"

"Just wanted to make sure. You know, you're changing."
"Sorry?" that's something a fifteen year old girlfriend would say, why was his boss saying that?

"Zayn, the day I recruited you, I saw this passion in you for Art, a determination to pass through all the applicants y'know? Right now it's so dull." Jason Malder, Zayn's double senior at work, not really any type of influence, stares at him. His brows furrowed in a questioning manner.

"You forgot to submit the presentation." Zayn gasps loudly, eyes wide as he stared at his boss, almost wanting the ground to suck him inside because he's so going to hell for this.

"I-I. . ."
"Zayn, y'know if you weren't one of the best employee I have, I would've fired you a month back? Its taken me loads of years to make this organisation stand. I remember when you joined for internship, the fierce look you carried. Zayn, this is your dream job, are you really going to let it sideline?"

"Mr. Malder, I'm sorry. . . Just-just give me a day more I swear—"
"Zayn, can I purpose something?"

"Please don't fire me, I'm- I-I can't—"
"Jesus, you're shaking, listen to me first. There's a big tenor coming next month and I really want our artists to get it. You are great influence on them. Zayn, my man, there are ten more well known organisations wanting to win this tenor to feature their painting in the Mid Art Gala next year."

Zayn slides his tongue on his bottom lip, taking in the information and waiting for the 'get it or you're fired' but what comes out next stuns the life out of him.

"Make a presentation, select the paintings, make them, do whatever the hell is needed. If we get this tenor, I'll promote you to the board of directors."

"Wait, WHAT?" Jason laughs, keeping his hand on Zayn's shoulder.

"I'm giving you three weeks to do this. I'm sure you'll ace it and prove to me the fire is still in there. I believe in you." Jason smiles, patting Zayn's shoulder and walking inside the building leaving Zayn thrown completely off guard.

༻❁༺

Zayn enters his house, closing the door behind him, falling on the sofa and embracing the silence with open arms. Living in a big house had big disadvantages, and when you're completely alone, it just sums up. Quickly changing into a new tee and jeans he rushes down with his suitcase and sits down again.

He so needed someone.
Zayn dials his mother and as he waits for her to answer he picks at the loose threads in his knee cut jeans.

"Honey?"
"Hey mum, I hope you remember I'm coming over?"
"Yes, obviously I do, sunshine. Your dad wants to talk."
"NO DONT-"
"Zayn, you're off?"
"Yeah, I-uh took a half day at work today."

"Not like you have much work anyway." Zayn sighs. He was so over this topic, how his father was stubborn to not accept his career choices even though he was twenty five now.

"Dad, I don't have time for this."
"I highly doubt. Anyway, come fast, we have to leave."

"Leave? Are we having a dinner or something?"
"No, we're going to London."
"You're saying it like London is four steps away."

"Son, we're shifting back."
"Excuse me?"
Zayn hears his mother mumbling something along the lines of 'not now'.

"Honey, come fast."
"But mum-" as the line hangs, Zayn stares at the phone for a good seven minutes before picking his suitcase and almost running to his car.

He so needed answers.

༻❁༺

"This is just a friendly reminder that I'm a part of THIS FAMILY TOO Y'KNOW!?" Zayn yells, almost bewildered by the fact that his family was moving to London and he gets to know the day they're leaving.

"If only you'll pick that phone of yours."
"I-I've been busy."
"That's not our headache, Zayn." Yaser hisses, sitting down as he sips on his tea calmly.

"When did you get a new girlfriend? Weren't you dating that blonde girl?"
"New girlfriend? I-I what? And no we-we broke up."

"Martha told me she saw a girl leaving your house." Trisha's eyes narrow on her son as he snorts all the while rolling his eyes.

"I really can't live without you and Martha playing James Bond on me? Mum, I'm twenty six."

"So the heartbroken boy becomes the heartbreaker, I see."
"Doniya, píss off."

"Zayn seriously, what did that girl do to you?"
"Mum, can we please not discuss my love life right now."

"Son, you're twenty six, you're age to have fun has passed, it's about time you settle." Trisha whispers, looking at Zayn with nothing but warmth.

"W-what are you implying?"

"Isn't that obvious, they want you to get married." Doniya moodily replies.
"Lord Mum, I'm not ready for it." Zayn gives out a frustrated sigh getting up to help himself with a glass of water. This environment was choking him.

"With that job, you'll never be ready son."
"Yaser, let me talk."

"I've had enough discussion on this. Don't you all have to go?"
"Aren't you coming, you took a week off to spend with us."

"Naah, I'll pass."
"Zayn, don't you want to meet the Hogward's again?" Zayn stops drinking water as he's reminded of the family, the good times, when life was so much better.

Zayn swears, that over these tremendously hard months of loneliness he's concluded that having a long distance best friend is one of the hardest things ever. Even though they tried so hard, they cut off.

Sometimes he did forget how much he misses Crystal and then it hits him like a ton of bricks. Whenever he has a bad day, which is almost everyday since a month, he just wants to hug her because she gave the best and tightest hugs, the kind that are really hard to let go of and he just wants to say hey or hang out all day like old times to rant about his absolutely shit life.

He misses the habit of seeing her every day and go to just getting a phone call every other day until it turned to none.

He so missed just hanging out whenever they had a spare moment and could just drop everything for each other and go get food from Tony's Cafe or just lay in bed and watch movies or just sleepover if they were too tired to drive back to their own beds, fighting over sides immediately.

But truthfully, they spent so much time together that they couldn't tell the difference between one bed and the other. Whenever Zayn would cry she would be right there in a moments notice ready to wipe the tears for him and vice versa.

Supporting his talents when no one did, Parting is the hardest thing because you just hold on to each other and hold on to the greatest hug you know and whisper 'i love you' and 'see you soon' a million times before you let go. She may be only a phone call away but that hug he so badly needed is one seventy three miles away.

"I don't think I've anything to do, might as well help you all shift."
But even when the distance pars, he remembers her a lot of times and he hopes she does too, also waiting for them to cross roads again soon and hell yeah, they will.

_____________________
A/n: Hello sweet potatoes, I LOVE YALL SO MUCH. I CANT BELEIVE THIS TOOK SO LONG I WAS SO DEMOTIVATED IDK DOES ANYONE LIKE IT? IS THE STORYLINE WORTH IT?

BUT THEN I WAS LIKE DO HELL, LETS JUST KEEP GOING AND SEE HOW IT FLOWS.
So, here is chapter two, a crispy 3000+ words hehehe.

Please do vote and comment, it motivates me to next level.

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See yall soon xoxo