Class Clowns

Harry's POV:

"I'm going to ask you one last time, Mr. Malik. Did you or did you not have a relationship with your art student, Claire Saint John?!" A policeman slams his hands down on a conference table in the hospital room we've been escorted to and snarls in Zayn's face like a rabid dog.

"Just tell me how she is, and I'll tell you everything you want to know." He growls back, and I mentally roll my eyes. This is not going to turn out well.

"That's not how it works with us... How about a ride to the station, and a night or two in a police cell, will that get you talking?" He asks, and Zayn sits back in his chair, crossing his arms like a kid.

"I just want to know if Claire is alright." Zayn whispers, and the officer shakes his head.

"I'll be back in five minutes after a conversation with Miss. Saint John's father about whether or not to press charges against you and I'll bring the police car and some handcuffs for the both of you. Don't even think about going anywhere while I'm gone." He remarks before slamming the hospital door behind him.

I sink in my seat and put my face in my hands. How did things go so horribly wrong? We pull into the hospital, and Craig flips out, the police are waiting and Craig spills the beans about Zayn and Claire the second he lays eyes on a cop. And Zayn doesn't deny it! So now we're inside the hospital, clueless, confused and possibly going to jail. If Craig had just kept his mouth shut, none of this would have never happened...

If Zayn and I had kept our distance, none of this would have ever happened.

"I'm in big trouble." Zayn mumbles, and I look up at him concerned. He looks like he's aged 3 years in these past few hours, and even though I can't stand him half the time I feel terribly about everything.

"We're in this together, alright?" I remind him, but he puts his hand up to halt me.

"No Harry, we're not." He mutters a tad bitterly. I cock my head sideways trying to understand him, and he instantly realizes my confusion. "Craig told the police it was me, not you. No one knows that you and Claire were anything except teacher and student, and that's how it's going to remain. There is no reason for you to go down for this too." He explains and I'm completely shocked.



"Zayn, you can't do--" I start to interject, but he stops me.

"It's for the best...I can't believe this is happening." He whispers to himself. "I just want to know if she's okay, you know? That's all I care about." He sniffles, wiping the tears out of his eyes.

"I know, me too." I agree, and he shakes his head.

"It's funny, you know. Now that I'll be in prison, it's the perfect opportunity for you two to be together." He chuckles, and stands up to walk towards the door. I stay in the seat and watch him, meanwhile ignoring that comment. I can't even think of Claire like that right now, like an object or prize of a little game. I just hope that she's okay, and I wish Zayn wasn't in trouble.

"We can't leave." I call after Zayn as he swings open the door, and when he walks out of it I am up on my feet following him down the hospital corridors. He's at the nurses desk in seconds, and lying like a professional.

"I'm Claire Saint John's brother Alex, how is my sister? She came in a few hours ago from a car accident..." He stutters quickly as the officer enters the building in the distance.

"Claire Saint John? Hmm... Oh yes!" She smiles as she locates her name, but the frowns when she read Claire's condition.

"What is it? What's wrong?" I ask beside Zayn, unprepared for what's to come. To be honest, I can't even imagine my life without Claire. I know she may love Zayn, and he may be risking it all for her, but if I were to lose her... I don't know what I would do.

"Miss. Saint John's spleen ruptured from impact and is in emergency surgery right now with Doctor Derek to try and repair it--"

"Hey, Malik! What did I say about leaving that room!" The officer bolts down the hall and tackles Zayn to the ground. I stand their dumbfounded as the officer slaps cuffs on Zayn's wrists and pulls him upward towards the wall aggresively

"You're both under arrest for the non-consensual relationship with Claire Saint John." The officer spits, and I can't speak.

"Not Harry, he didn't know." Zayn whispers morbidly, his head down in embarrassment in shame.

"So are you admitting it? It's true?" The policeman shouts in his face, and Zayn looks him dead in the eyes.

"I am in love with Claire Saint John." Zayn states firmly, just like that hauled out of the hospital, with the press snapping photos outside, and he is inside the police car and on his way to jail.

I am in love with Claire too, and the only difference between Zayn and I is, is that I didn't get caught. And now he is being locked away for it, for something he doesn't deserve to be punished for. Criminals go to jail, and in my eyes this isn't a crime.

If love is a crime, aren't we all guilty? And most of all, why should the age matter, especially if Claire is eighteen? He doesn't belong there, because if he does, then so do I.

Claire's POV:

My eyes slowly flutter open to a room that is enveloped with darkness. The only light I see is peaking inside through a window, a window that is unfamiliar to me. The light moves as I watch it, it's still snowing? Where am I? I reach my hands up towards my forehead and feel a wrap around my head, bandages maybe. There's an oxygen mask around my nose, and I immediately rip it out. I'm in the hospital.




There was an accident. Craig. Harry. Zayn!

The first thing I know I have to do this get all these wires and this IV out of my arm. I try to swing my feet over the side of the bed to stand up and run towards the door, but when I do I'm weak at the knees. I feel a sharp pain under my ribs, and slide toward the ground but not before pulling a white curtain that hangs room down with me. The curtain makes a huge crash sound as it pulls off it's track, and almost instantly I hear a a door swing open.

"Claire?" My fathers voice is hopeful as he rushes into the room with footsteps following behind, but he gasps with pure horror once his feet are in my vision.

"Help." I murmur, and before I can even think to go unconscious I'm already back in the hospital bed, hooked back up to the oxygen mask and the IV and wires are all attached to me as if I had never taken them off to begin with.

"Clairebear, I'm so glad you're awake." My dad's voice shakes as he takes my hand and kisses it gently. A doctor is shining a bright light in my face, and I look away from him instantly.

"Hi Claire, I'm doctor Derek, but you can just call me Derek, or doctor. How are you feeling?" He asks, a warm smile playing on the corner of his lips. I look at my father again, he looks like he's utterly exhausted.



"What happened to me?" I ask, and lift my hospital gown just high enough to examine the part of my body under my ribs that was aching before. A medium sized, fresh scar is there with stitches and a few staples. Right above my stomach.

"Your spleen ruptured from the accident, which cause some internal bleeding so we had to go in and repair it." Doctor Derek explains, and I slowly run my fingers over the new scar on my body that will forever be with me.

"And you have a small concussion... and a few burns, cuts and bruises..." My father cuts in, and I pant slowly when I look down at my arms and hands. They are covered in gauze and bandages, and wherever there wasn't a gauze my body was purple.

"I realize this is difficult, but you're going to be fine. The surgery went well, and you are going to be just fine." The Derek guy attempts to soothe my panic, but there's no use. I shift the sheets of the bed and look at my legs, they look the same as my arms. I must be on some serious pain medication, because this looks like it will hurt excruciatingly.

"Claire? Say something?" My dad asks, as him and Doctor Derek stand at my bedside. When I look up at them, I know what they're waiting for me to say, or maybe what they're waiting for me not to say.

"Is Craig okay?" I ask, and Doctor Derek's face drops. My father deters his eyes to the floor, and I begin to panic. "What happened to him? I thought he was okay, he seemed like he wasn't injured..." I sniffle, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Craig Anderson is alright. He has a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle and a few broken fingers but other than that, everything else checked out okay. He was lucky." the doctor tells me, and sits down beside me in the guest chair.

"Are his parents... Do they..." I stutter, unsure of what to say next. I don't even know what I should be saying or what not to say.

"Craig was charged for reckless driving and for putting you in danger, but considering the mental state he was in and his age it has been decided that it's best for him to attend a psychiatric facility along with his family." Doctor Derek explains, and I shake my head. My father stands their with his eyes glued to the ground, not a single word to leave his lips.

"This was never supposed to happen." I murmur to myself, letting a few tears roll down my cheek.

"It's going to be okay, Claire," Doctor Derek gives me his best smile and stands, "but I should get back to my other patients. I'll be back to check on you in a bit, I hope you--" He continues, but I cut him off.

"Where is Zayn?" I ask, and through these last few minutes of silence, but father's eyes finally shoot up. They're dark and angry, but reserved at the same time. The doctor gives him a warning glare, and I swallow, preparing for the worst.

"Mr. Malik is currently in police custody for his relationship with a student." My father says plainly, and I suddenly can't breathe.

"No. No. No. No. No. No." I chant over and over and over and over, trying to convince myself that this didn't happen. "You can't do that to him! He doesn't belong there!" I scream, and the doctor slips out of the room so he doesn't have to witness my meltdown.

"Claire! Do not do this right now!" My father scolds me, and I shake my head at him, slamming my hands against the stiff hospital mattress I'm sitting on.

"No! He doesn't belong there! You can't do that to him! He doesn't deserve it! Zayn doesn't belong in prison daddy, I won't let you do that!" I sob, scooting my way off the edge of the bed again but this time my father holds me down.

"It's for the best, Claire! I'm not going to lecture you right now, but it's wrong! He's wrong! You are wrong!" He screams, and I scream back, but with no words. I scream the excruciating pain I'm feeling inside, I scream for the hurt Zayn must be feeling behind bars.

"Claire!" I hear voices shout my name from outside the door, and seconds later Alex and Mark barge through my hospital room door and wrap themselves around me.

"Please, you have to get Zayn out of there." I whisper, and they both look up at each other at the same time.

"Are you crazy?" Mark shakes his head, stepping away and standing aside with my father. "He's a fucking rapist! That old fuck was screwing my little sister in school, it's volatile!" He adds, and I continue crying in Alex's shoulder.

"You're only upsetting her more! Just shut up!" Alex barks, rocking me back and forth in his arms. "You're okay, it's okay. You're okay Claire, he's okay." He whispers to me, as my broken family looks at each other in confusion and anger.

"I loved him." I choke out, and with that, my father and Mark exit the room without a word. I look up at Alex who has big glowing eyes.

"Claire..." He sighs, and I shake my head.

"Zayn can't be in prison. You don't understand, I was consenting, it was a relationship, he wasn't taking advantage of me, I was happy and--" I ramble, and cough painfully. Alex quickly jumps up and pours me a cup of water, and I happily take it.

"I believe you." He whispers, and my jaw drops in shock.

"You do?" I ask, and he nods. "You have to tell dad to drop the charges." I wipe my eyes painfully with a gauze from my arm and Alex winces once he sees the pain I'm in.

"Claire... That's just it. You're legal, the age of consent. You don't have to press any charges if you don't want to." He says, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. I don't think my 23 year old brother realizes the trouble he can get in by telling me this, either that or I don't think he cares.

"I don't want to press charges." I whisper, and he nods knowingly.

"I mean, I don't know how complicated this is, you know?" He explains, jumping up and pacing back and forth. "I just... I want you to be happy. I don't want this thing to hang over your head and make you depressed or miserable... I don't want you to end up like mommy." Alex tells me, breathlessly. I lay my head down on the pillow and close my eyes tightly. I don't want you to end up like mommy.

"Please don't worry about me... about that." I express in a hushed tone, and suddenly feel extremely tired.

"You need your rest." Alex sighs, coming up beside me and fixing my pillows. I reach over and grab his wrist so he has to look at me.

"When you leave, I want you to go down to the police station and tell them I'd like to make a statement. And check on Zayn, alright? Please, tell him I'm thinking about him, I'm worried about him. I'll post bail, I'll take all the money we got from mom, I'll do whatever. We have to et him out of there, he doesn't belong there." I say, and Alex shakes his head at me.

"Dad's going to kill me if I do that." He groans, putting his other hand to his head.

"Please Alex! You have to do this for me." I beg, and he pulls his wrist out of my grip.

"I'll see what I can do." He sighs defeatedly. "Get some rest, Claire. If this works out you're gonna need some fight in you." He commands, leaving a soft kiss on my forehead.

I lay in bed, close my eyes, and pray.

I pray that Zayn is going to be okay, that he's safe and not lonely, and that I haven't completely ruined his life.

I pray that Craig gets the help he needs, and that he eventually realizes the gravity of his actions.

I pray that my father won't be angry with me forever, because right now I'm sure under his brave front he is mortified.

And in the back of my mind, I pray for Harry. He's mixed up in this, and that's all my fault. I pray that he's not angry with me, I pray that he's not angry with Zayn and mostly, I pray that he's not angry with himself.

And eventually, I drift off into a sleep where my body isn't burn, bruised and battered and life is easier, where age is just a number and loving someone doesn't have any consequences.

Notes