Paranoia (Zayn Malik) (editing)

Chapter 24: Base

Luna's POV

I wake up alone in my bed, much to my disappointment, but figure Zayn must've gone for a run like he does most mornings. I am still half-naked but lucky summer is ever approaching so the air doesn't chill me when I peel myself out of the bed. The area between my legs begins to throb again when I see my bra on the floor, next to Zayn's shirt, with flashbacks of the night before hitting my conscious mind, the feeling of his hands in my hair while I had him in my mouth firmly imprinted into my memory.

I pick his shirt up and pull it on, leaving the first few buttons undone, I expect he'll enjoy the extra skin on show.

Following my morning routine, I head to the kitchen, where the late Sunday morning sun is seeping through the windows, leaving a bright tint on the room. Zayn is leaning against the counter near the fridge, the same journal in his large hands.

"Morning." I yawn "How come you're already up?"

He looks up at me, with something behind his eyes that I'm struggling to pinpoint "I didn't sleep in your room."

"Oh." The revelation feels purposefully hurtful "Why not?"

He doesn't reply, attention averting back to the journal.

"I like this shirt." I gesture to the only thing covering me right now, still pushing for his attention.

His eyes scan over me quickly "Mmh."

"What's wrong?" I huff.

"Nothing."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm OK, distracted, I have errands to run today." He closes the journal, finally looking at me properly. He's clearly his distance.

"Errands? What errands?"

"Don't worry."

I frown. I was expecting a warmer reception after last night, but something is clearly bothering him.

"So, you're hiding stuff now?"

"I've been doing that since we met, doll." He points out.

The nickname doesn't hit my ears like it usually does nowadays. His tone isn't full of endearment.

I scoff "Well, I guess that's true. Fool me once, right?"

"I'll be back later." He nods, starting for the door but I stand in front of him, blocking his way.

"I'm not doing this with you." I snap.

"Doing what?"

"The shit communication, the not telling me why you're mad. I don't do mind games, Zayn."

He sighs, but doesn't try to get past me anymore.  He runs his hand through his overgrown hair, closing his eyes momentarily before locking them with mine.

"Last night, you had a dream I was trying to kill you." He mumbles, gripping the counter behind him.

"No, I didn't."

"I took it from you." He explains "Is that really how you view me, Luna? You think I'd hurt you, kill you?"

"No!" my hands cup his cheeks "Zayn, no, not at all."

"Then why would you dream that?"

"I don't know Zayn, they're just dreams!"

"If I know anything, it's that dreams aren't just dreams, Luna, it's your subconscious speaking, and your subconscious isn't a fan of me." He avoids my eye contact.